by Hope Hart
But Varic wasted money on a pretty costume so we can play dress up together and he can pretend to be a real king. Fury makes my hands shake as I reach for the dress, pulling it on without protest. I want to ask these women how much food could be bought with the delicate material, but what’s the point?
Dexar lives in luxury, yes, but he ensures that no one in his tribe goes without. His warriors are ordered to keep an eye on everyone—from the most successful business owners to the oldest widows. Never would he allow his tribe to be hungry and grimy.
I’m so deep in thought that it takes a moment for me to realize that Eagle Eyes is gesturing for me to leave the kradi. The other women begin to file out, and the woman with the black hair glances back at my dirty bathwater with so much yearning that I could kill Varic for that alone.
Could I kill Varic?
I’ve never taken a life before. Beth told me that she and Nevada fought against both warriors from this tribe and the Voildi when they were defending Tecar’s tribe. She said she killed more people than she could have imagined, and her eyes lowered at the admission. But when I asked her if she regretted it, she shook her head.
“Killing leaves a mark on you,” she said. “One that I think you carry for the rest of your life. But sometimes, some people have to die so that the innocent can live. I’m working on becoming okay with that.”
She changed the subject, but I thought about her words that night as I got ready for bed. This is a brutal planet. I’ve seen sights here that I never could’ve imagined. I’ve had two attempts on my life in just a few weeks, and that’s not counting the Voildi who were planning to eat us.
If I managed to take Varic out, could I live with myself afterward?
The pregnant woman makes a tiny sound, and I glance at her. She limps, and my gaze drops to her foot, which is bare on the rough ground. The women allowed me to put my own shoes back on, but all of them are barefoot, and I don’t think it’s because they hate the confinement of shoes.
Varic is pretending he’s the ultimate leader, a tribe king that these people can trust. Meanwhile, they’re obviously low on bare necessities like shoes, clothes, and food.
I stumble, raising a hand to my head as if I’m feeling woozy. One of the women grabs my elbow, and I slide a hairpin out of my hair, hiding it in my fist.
It feels heavy in my hand, with a surprising weight at one end where some kind of design has been carved into the metal. It’s two-pronged, and the feel of the cool metal in my palm is reassuring even though it’s unlikely to be much help.
The women lead me up a small hill to a grassy clearing. The sun has risen, and it’s warm on the back of my neck. In any other situation, this setting would be oddly peaceful—the gush of the river quieter here, broken by birdcalls and the sound of leaves rustling in the gentle breeze.
On the right, a huge fire burns, throwing off heat. The flames are climbing high, and a warrior is adding more wood as I watch.
Unfortunately, Varic is waiting for me—once again appearing unruffled. I wonder what his tribe would think if they’d seen him red-faced and ranting about Dexar, spittle flying from his mouth as he whined about being second best.
“Qatal,” he says, smiling at me, and I roll my eyes. Members of his tribe surround us, and there must be two hundred people in this clearing alone. I have no doubt that Varic has more warriors posted outside the camp.
“I will never be your qatal,” I say clearly, my voice carrying over the shocked gasps. “Look around this tribe. Look at the people you’re supposed to be helping. You’re not a qatai. You’re a fucking disgrace.”
His face slowly turns red, his eyes burning as he stares at me. “I thought you might feel that way.” He smiles. “It’s quite amusing, really. Dexar was so desperate to find you that he rode out of his camp gates, many of his most experienced warriors with him. Some of the youngest, most inexperienced warriors were left as sentries.”
Varic turns his head, and I follow his gaze. Three warriors are hauled forward, all of them bruised and bleeding.
“Qatal.” One of them nods respectfully, and I whirl, meeting Varic’s eyes.
“Your disgust at Tavis’s death proved you have a soft heart,” he says. “I will simply cut pieces off these warriors until you behave.”
He nods, and one of his warriors slices a deep cut into the youngest warrior’s bicep. He grits his teeth, and I’m the one who cries out.
“Stop!”
“Next, I’ll take his arm.” Varic smiles, his tone dripping with smug satisfaction. He points at the ground in front of him, and I slowly walk forward.
My hands are unbound, but the idea of being able to escape this clearing is laughable. I turn my head, and the bleeding warrior’s eyes burn into mine as he silently shakes his head, urging me not to do this.
Varic holds two gold bands in his hands, and my heart suddenly hurts. I’ve seen those bands before, of course. They’re for mated couples. Once they’ve been tenderly tied onto a woman’s wrists by the man she loves, they’re never removed.
Until this moment, I didn’t realized how much I hope to see Dexar holding those bands in his hands one day, a grin on his face as he winks at me.
I bite my lip until it aches. This asshole may think he can force me to mate with him, but I’ll cut off those stupid bands at the first opportunity.
The warrior who led me from kradi to kradi moves forward, bowing his head at Varic respectfully.
“We have gathered to witness the mating of our qatai with his fated qatal. Through this mating, our tribe will be blessed by the gods with one hundred years of peace and prosperity.”
The warrior smiles as the tribe cheers, and I scowl. Ini has a lot to answer for when it comes to that fucking prophecy.
I thought it would be easy to pretend that this means nothing. That I’d cut off these bands and annul this mating like a drunken Vegas wedding. And then Varic speaks.
Even his distant, robotic voice can’t completely strip the meaning from his words.
“I have made these bands to represent our bond. Strong, true, and never to be broken,” he intones. “Will you accept them?”
I hesitate. Varic does not. He flicks his gaze to where Dexar’s warriors are standing, and this time, one of them cries out. I turn, shrieking as one of Varic’s warriors buries a knife in the young warrior’s gut.
“You fucking asshole,” I choke out as the warrior falls to his knees, the knife still flashing silver in his stomach.
Varic laughs, sounding genuinely amused. “You seem to believe that I am lying when I tell you the consequences of your actions.”
I run my gaze over the crowd, lingering on the women, several of whom look pale.
“This is the qatai you follow?” I hiss. “The one you believe the fates will reward?” I laugh coldly, and several of the women drop their gazes.
Varic sighs, grabbing my shoulder and turning me toward him. “Enough dramatics. End this right now, or I will have all their throats slit.”
I glance at the warriors. The other two have been gagged when I wasn’t paying attention, but their eyes burn with fury. The warrior on the ground is groaning, his face gray.
This is it. As soon as Varic reaches for my wrists, it’s going to be impossible for me to conceal the hairpin still clenched in my sweaty hand. The long sleeves of the dress currently hide it, but I have no doubt that this bastard will throw another murderous tantrum when he discovers it.
“Varic,” a familiar sardonic voice says, and I whirl, a sob ripping from my throat. Dexar sits on his mishua wearing an honest-to-God crown, gleaming like fire in the sunshine. His clothes are immaculate, his expression mocking, but his eyes hold a promise of vengeance.
“It has been a long time.” Dexar smiles, and I widen my eyes as I realize how many of his warriors have managed to surround us. From the look of their blood-splattered clothes, they’ve taken down Varic’s guards—quickly, effectively, and quietly.
This is Dexar a
t his best. No one looking at him would have any doubt that he’s truly a king. He runs his eyes over the dusty, unkempt crowd, his raised eyebrow saying exactly what he thinks of them without uttering a word.
A rough hand clamps down on my shoulder, and I know Varic’s about to use me as a shield. I twist back around as he bares his teeth, leaning down to hiss something at me.
I lash out, my hand reaching for him. The hairpin slashes across his face, surprising more than wounding, and he jolts back, his hands automatically releasing me.
I pivot, frantically scanning the clearing. Dexar’s warriors attack, and swords clash as Varic’s warriors leap into action.
Women are screaming, and I dart across the grass before Varic can grab me again. I reach the fire and lift one of the long sticks gathered next to it before thrusting the stick into the fire until it catches.
I hold it in front of me. It’s the only weapon I have. The back of my neck tingles with awareness, and I turn to see Dexar stalking across the clearing toward me. Women are screaming and running out of the clearing, and warriors are fighting, but for one long moment, the rest of the world falls away as he reaches me.
“I knew you’d come for me.”
He smiles at me, and his eyes seem to glow with vengeance as he looks over my shoulder.
“Brix is waiting for you.” His eyes meet mine again, and he jerks his head to the right of the clearing, where there are no more of Varic’s warriors left. Brix makes eye contact, and I nod right before Dexar pulls me close, his lips hard on mine before he pushes me gently away.
He pulls the stick out of my hand and passes it to one of his warriors, who takes it back to the fire. Then he presses a long knife into my hand. “Go.”
I turn my head, but I can’t just run to safety. Not while that warrior is currently bleeding out. Dexar is already stalking to where Varic waits, his sword in his hand and retribution all over his face. His eyes meet mine for a moment, and I shiver at the hatred in them.
I bolt back across the clearing toward Dexar’s sentries. The young warrior is still lying on the ground, his skin so pale that I’d think him dead if not for his twitching hand. The other two sentries have managed to get free, and they’re fighting off Varic’s warriors. One of them is the warrior who refused to help me—the one who ordered me from kradi to kradi—and I wince as Dexar’s warrior drives him to his knees, burying his knife in his gut.
I drop to my own knees next to the young warrior, who cracks open his eyes as I brush his hair off his face.
“Qatal,” he says, awe on his face, and I smile at him.
“Call me Alexis. What’s your name?”
“Mika.”
“Mika, you’re going to be just fine, okay? Dexar will have brought healers with him, so you just have to hold on. Can you do that for me?”
He nods, but his eyes are closing again. I blow out a breath as I notice the knife still buried in his stomach. Right now, it’s acting like a cork, keeping him from bleeding out. If we can get him to a healer—or even better, bring the healer to him—he may just make it.
I huddle beside him, holding his hand. “Mika, stay with me, okay? Can you talk to me?”
He doesn’t reply, and I glance up, my eyes darting around the clearing. There are just a few swords clashing now, and most of Varic’s warriors have dropped their swords, well aware that they’re outnumbered.
Dexar and Varic are fighting to the death. Varic bares his teeth and says something too low for me to catch. It’s likely that he’s hoping to piss Dexar off, but his face remains carefully blank. My heart is stuck in my throat, where it beats like a drum.
Varic swings his sword again, and Dexar simply steps to the side, saying something to Varic, his voice low as Varic’s sword swings past him. I have a feeling Dexar’s mocking him because Varic’s face flushes and he swings again. Dexar dodges the blade, every movement smoothly economical, with no wasted effort.
I’ve seen Dexar train a few times, but the way he moves now…it’s a thing of beauty. He’s playing with Varic, allowing him to get tired even as Dexar steps forward, his arm lightning quick as he slashes across Varic’s thigh.
The other man roars, and I shake as he swings his sword faster this time, slashing across Dexar’s shoulder as he turns. Dexar punches him in the jaw, his knuckles hitting with a crack as he smoothly slides away, and I wince. That’s gotta hurt. Varic’s mouth hangs open, obviously dislocated.
I wince. The pain Varic’s feeling right now must be unimaginable. I glance down at Mika, who hasn’t regained consciousness, and just like that, I lose all sympathy for Varic.
Varic stumbles back, raising the hilt of his sword and slamming it into his own face, sliding his jaw back into place. Dexar doesn’t wait, batting Varic’s sword aside as Dexar raises his again, and he stops playing with him.
The sword slides into Varic’s solar plexus. Dexar pulls it free while Varic falls to his knees, and I close my eyes as Dexar swings his sword.
I swear I hear the thump of Varic’s head as it hits the ground, but it’s probably my imagination.
Dexar is immediately by my side, calling for a healer for Mika.
The warrior manages to open his eyes again, although they’re blurry with pain. “Qatai.”
“You have done well, Mika. Rest now. You will be healed and rewarded for protecting your qatal.”
Brix appears, one of the healers by his side. I haven’t been introduced to her, but I’ve seen her in the healers’ kradi, and she nods at me as she kneels by Mika’s side, opening her huge leather bag.
Dexar pulls me to my feet, cupping my face in his hands. “Are you okay?”
I blow out a long breath and begin to shake as the adrenaline leaves my body. Dexar’s hands shift as his arms wind around me, and I bury my face in his chest.
“I am now,” I say.
Chapter Fifteen
Alexis
I open my eyes, staring straight into achingly familiar forest green. The most incredible feeling of déjà vu immediately hits me. It’s as if I’ve woken up the exact same way every day of my life.
“Were you watching me sleep, you creeper? You know, I’ve already had to deal with one stalker…”
A faint smile touches Dexar’s mouth, but his eyes are still serious. “I have something to show you,” he says. “Will you come with me?”
I raise an eyebrow at his cryptic tone, but his face is giving me no clues. We arrived back at camp last night, and after a quick bath, I fell into an exhausted sleep, curled up next to Dexar. When I woke in the middle of the night from a nightmare, he soothed me, stroking my hair until I fell back asleep.
“Of course.” I reach for him, ready to snuggle. Okay, I’m ready for a lot more than snuggling. But Dexar simply winks at me, rolling out of bed and casting my bare skin one last look as he stalks out of the room.
I grin as he asks Yari for a cold bath.
It doesn’t take me long to get ready, and before I know it, I’m pouting at Dexar as he insists on blindfolding me.
“Come on, is that really necessary?”
He simply winks at me again, holding out the blindfold. “Do you trust me?”
“I guess,” I mutter sulkily, sticking out my lower lip. He strokes one finger across it, and then he’s tying a soft cloth over my eyes.
The air is cool on my skin. My senses are heightened, and Dexar’s warm body cradles mine as the mishua takes us who knows where.
If we were still in bed, I’d be more than happy to be blindfolded. My breath catches at the thought, and Dexar lets out a rough curse as if he knows exactly where my mind has gone.
I’m completely reliant on my other senses to figure out where I am. Dexar’s guards murmur in low voices behind us, and I can’t help but wonder if Dexar is returning me to Rakiz’s tribe.
He’s been acting strange since we arrived back at camp, holding me close and staring at me as if afraid I’ll disappear. But he’s refused to talk about us at all, and when I
attempted to seduce him last night, he simply laughed at me.
To be fair, my eyes were half closed, and I was so tired I was slurring.
“Are we there yet?” I put on my whiniest voice, and Dexar laughs, pressing a kiss to my neck.
“Soon,” he says, and I go back to enjoying the feel of the breeze on my skin.
I hear the rush of water, and I tense, the sound reminding me of Varic’s camp. But Dexar’s body is still relaxed against mine, and I lean my head back until it’s resting against his hard chest.
I’m almost asleep by the time the mishua comes to a halt. I no longer hear Dexar’s guards or the scuffling sound of the mishua behind us, so I’m guessing they’re hanging back.
I’m strangely nervous, and I keep my eyes clamped shut for a moment longer while Dexar unties my blindfold.
“You can look now.” His voice is amused, but I can hear a thread of nervousness, and it’s this that makes me open my eyes.
My mouth drops open.
The spaceship sits on the riverbank, tilted drunkenly while one section leans precariously into the water.
It’s shaped almost like a butterfly, with the tip of one wing dangling down, the cracked fuselage exposing a mess of wires like the innards of a dead animal.
Porthole windows are dotted at regular intervals along the side closest to us, and it’s easy to imagine people staring out those windows as the ship plummeted to the ground.
The bottom half of the ship shows signs of rust, while the top still gleams silver like a new quarter.
I frown. A drop of liquid has just dripped from the ship and into the river. Perhaps some kind of fuel. It’s bright orange and seems to glow, like the inside of a glow stick from Earth.
I’m instantly ready to explore.
“This is the ship that your father saw,” I murmur. “The one that crashed before you were born.”
I tear my gaze away from the ship as Dexar nods.
“I thought I wasn’t allowed to come here,” I say. My eyes widen as another thought occurs to me. “You’re not going to have it destroyed, are you?”
