by Hope Hart
Beth
I stare up at the mishua, feeling like I’m gazing at Mount Everest. Zarix removes his arm from around my shoulders and holds it out.
“Up,” he says.
“Um.” I stare at him. If he lifts me, he’s going to bleed even worse. And yet there’s no way I can climb up alone.
Javir scrambles up on the other side of the mishua and holds out his hand. “Let him lift you just enough to reach my hand.”
I nod, swallowing around the lump in my throat as Zarix pushes me up, a pained gasp sounding from his throat. My walking stick hits the mishua, and she lets out a low growl.
“Sorry,” I mutter as I grab Javir’s hand.
He’s surprisingly strong for his size, and he helps me slide up behind him.
“Wow,” he says. “You should eat more.”
“Don’t start,” I warn him, and Zarix snorts from below us.
His eyes meet mine for a brief moment, the tiniest spark of amusement in them, and then he looks up at the mishua as if summoning his strength.
He hauls himself up, and I reach into the saddlebag for the pain tonic.
He shakes his head. “No,” he says. “You take it.”
“I’m not taking it,” I say, and Zarix shrugs, apparently unconcerned as Javir slides behind him.
I grit my teeth as the mishua starts to move. “Where are we going?”
There’s no reply from behind me, and Zarix’s head has slumped onto my back.
“He passed out,” Javir says, his voice slightly panicked.
“Oh God…”
The mishua stops in her tracks, and I scowl down at her. What now?
“Mishua don’t allow females to ride them,” Javir says. “She can probably tell Zarix isn’t directing her.”
I shove down the urge to let rip with the kinds of curses that shouldn’t reach his ears. Okay, think, Beth.
“You’re a male. Get up front and take over.”
“You think she’ll let me?”
“I think if she doesn’t let you, we’ll tie her to a tree and leave her for the Voildi.”
The mishua lets out a weird groaning sound but thankfully begins walking once Javir grabs the reins.
“Do you know how to get back to his tribe?” I ask.
Javir shakes his head, and fear makes my hands tremble. I can’t be responsible for this stern, gruff warrior dying. Not just because I seem to care more about him than I should but because he’s actively attempting to stop a war.
“Okay, new plan. Do you know where to find anyone who would help us?”
Javir pauses and then turns his head, excitement clear on his face. “My father used to take me with him sometimes when he’d come to buy and sell goods in the market. Usually, there would be a couple of Braxian warriors near one of the prexas. I don’t know which tribe they’re from though.”
I nod. “Do you know how to get there?”
“I think so.”
“Then let’s do it. It’s our only shot.”
The mishua speeds up slightly at my words, and I wonder how much she understands. Does she realize Zarix could be dying right now?
Zarix lets out a rough growl, and I reach back, taking his hand. His skin is cool. Not a good sign.
“It’s okay,” I tell him. “Hang on. We’re going to find help. Just don’t do anything stupid like die on us in the meantime.”
He’s silent, and I sigh, turning my gaze forward. Javir, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to know the meaning of the word silent.
“So,” he says, “why were you alone in Voildi territory anyway?”
I’m so tired that it takes me a moment to understand what he’s asking. It feels like it has been years since I was running through the forest, desperate to find help.
“I escaped the Voildi, and I was trying to find someone to help me save my friends.”
“The Voildi found my father when he was out hunting one day. My mother thinks the pack had been watching him for a few days first. Were you taken from your camp?”
“We were all stolen from different places on our planet,” I say. “It’s called Earth.”
Javir whips his head around to look at me, his eyes wide. “For real?” he asks, and he sounds so much like a kid on Earth that in spite of our dire circumstances, I can’t help but laugh.
“For real,” I nod. “My planet is very different from yours. We don’t live in camps. Some people even live in tall buildings, thousands of times bigger than the tavern.”
“Are you playing with me?”
I laugh again. “I’m not.”
“Why were you stolen?”
I sigh. “Believe me, I’ve been asking myself the same thing every day. I think sometimes terrible things happen to good people. I used to believe that bad things would always eventually happen to bad people, but I thought I was a good person.”
Javir’s voice is low. “My father was a good person.”
I wince, attempting to tread carefully. I’m exhausted, and I don’t want to blurt out anything that could further upset a boy who’s still mourning his dad.
“Yeah. I think sometimes bad things happen for no reason. And it’s unfair. But all we can control is how we react to those bad things.”
It’s going to take me some time to believe this myself. To allow myself to get past the fact that everything I worked for—all the years of training, the homeschooling so I could attend more classes, missing out on rites of passage like prom and homecoming—was all for nothing.
But eventually I’ll need to come to terms with it. If I get home and I really can’t dance again, or worse—and this is something I can hardly bare to think—I don’t get home at all, I need to be able to move on with my life.
“Look,” Javir says suddenly, jolting me from my thoughts.
I focus on the distance as Javir pulls the mishua to a stop. Between the trees, sitting on their own mishua while they talk amongst themselves…
Three Braxian warriors.
Zarix
Beth’s words ring in my ears, and I manage to lift my head from where I’ve been resting it on her back.
“I think sometimes bad things happen for no reason. And it’s unfair. But all we can control is how we react to those bad things.”
Am I one of the bad things that happened in her life? Does she count this entire planet as a “bad thing”? I push that thought away.
This female is more pragmatic than I thought. From the pain in her voice, she has lost more than I could have imagined, yet from the moment she opened her eyes in Sonis’s hut, she has been relentlessly focused on moving forward.
While I’m still looking back.
I pant through the pain as the mishua comes to a halt. Beth tenses slightly as I rest my chin on her shoulder, and then she relaxes, raising her hand to pat my cheek.
“It’s going to be okay,” she assures me. “Do you know those guys?”
I narrow my eyes at the warriors as they notice us and move closer. “They are from my tribe.”
My chin almost falls off Beth’s shoulder as she slumps in relief. Within moments, Tazo is by my side.
He curses as he looks at me. “What happened?”
“Knife meets guts,” Beth says in a small voice. “We need to get him back to the healer.”
“You are a human female,” he says suddenly, taking her in, and she gasps as his eyes widen.
“You’ve seen others like me?”
He nods. “Our qatai bargained with Rakiz’s tribe for one of the females they found.”
I don’t need to see Beth’s face to know that her lips are likely thinning at this declaration, and her voice is sharp as she tilts her head, her soft hair rubbing against my face.
“Bargained?” Her voice is like ice, and Tazo glances at me. “Forget it,” she says. “How fast can we get him back to your tribe?”
Perik clears his throat as he rides closer, and I attempt to ignore the way Dekir—the third warrior—is staring at Beth in fa
scination.
“We are at least a day’s journey from our camp,” Perik says. “We can shave off a few hours if we go at full pace, but…” His voice trails off as Tazo glares at him.
“We will make it,” Tazo says, and I meet his gaze for a brief moment. We have not spoken for years. But somehow, if I am to die, it seems right that it will be while he is with me.
After all, I am responsible for the death of his sister.
Tazo’s brow lowers as if he’s reading my mind, and then he turns to Beth. “Don’t worry, female. This warrior is much too stubborn to die.”
She snorts. “Okay. Let’s go, then.”
Javir moves onto Perik’s mishua, and Tazo reaches for Beth, helping her sit in front of him. The color fades from her face at the movement, and I reach for the saddlebag, almost falling from the mishua.
Dekir reaches out to steady me. “What do you need?”
“Pain…Beth.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snaps. But I open my eyes, unaware they had slid shut.
“What’s he talking about?” Tazo asks.
“He has a pain tonic in his saddlebag. We should force it down his throat.”
Tazo is silent for a long moment.
“We don’t allow females to be in pain when it can be prevented,” he says, and I tense.
He curses roughly. “Zarix,” he starts, but I close my eyes again.
His voice hardens. “Take the tonic, female. Zarix is well used to basking in his pain.”
Beth is silent, but from the slight gagging noise she makes, I can tell she has taken a sip.
Something nudges my arm, and I manage to force open my heavy eyes.
She’s pushing the tonic at me. “Now you,” she insists, her eyes damp. “Please.”
I sigh but take it, swallowing a gulp.
Dekir ties me to the mishua, and I rest my head on her scaly skin.
“Okay,” Tazo says grimly. “Let’s go.”
Beth
It feels weird to sit in front of Tazo on the mishua after getting used to Zarix’s strong arm clamped around my waist. Tazo is a perfect gentleman, but I miss the surly, short-tempered male currently unconscious and slumped over the mishua.
I can’t even explain why.
The sight of him in so much pain…
It makes me want to cry.
This guy saved me from certain death and then only got stabbed because I wasn’t paying enough attention to Javir.
“He’s going to be okay, right?”
Tazo is silent for a long moment. “We have excellent healers,” he finally says. “Some of the best on Agron.”
I don’t point out that he didn’t agree with me.
We’ve been traveling for hours—long enough that dawn is stretching golden fingers over the huge empty space in front of us. I passed out for most of the night, something I’m grateful for, as it’s currently a very bumpy ride.
“This will be the most dangerous part of our journey,” Tazo tells me. “We will be fully visible to anyone lying in wait, and we don’t have time to fight off a pack of Voildi. This will need to be fast.”
I nod. “I’m ready.”
With a glance at the other warriors, Tazo nods, and then I’m clutching onto him for dear life as the mishua takes off.
It’s as if she suddenly has wings.
I hope Zarix is able to hold on tight to the mishua and he hasn’t passed out again. We travel like this for a few minutes, and by the time we reach the tree line, I’m panting.
To think that I once thought I wanted more excitement in my life.
The sun is up, with not a cloud in the emerald sky, when Tazo slows his mishua to a walk. In the distance, a huge structure looms over many other smaller structures.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Our qatai’s kradi,” Tazo says.
Huh. If the qatai is the king, then that massive, sprawling tent must be his palace.
It has to be close to the size of a football field, and my mouth drops open as we get closer and I take in the sheer size of the camp. Thousands of smaller tents cover a huge distance, stretching almost as far as my eye can see. There must be tens of thousands of people living here.
A warrior approaches on a mishua, his eyes widening as he stares at Zarix.
“Prepare the healers,” Tazo snaps, and the warrior immediately turns as we follow him through the camp.
I’m not sure what’s going on between Tazo and Zarix, but I can tell for sure that there’s some bad history there.
We make our way to one of the larger tents, close to the massive structure that’s bigger than anything I’ve seen on this planet.
Tazo helps me down off the mishua and hands me my walking stick. Somehow he’s kept it safe on our bumpy ride. Then the warriors untie Zarix from the saddle and haul him into the tent.
Javir’s feet hit the ground as he jumps down beside me, and his hand shakes as he gives me my crossbow.
“Is he okay?” His voice is small, and I don’t tell him I’m wondering the same thing.
“You heard his friend. He’s too stubborn to die.”
Javir nods, but his face is still serious. “This is my fault. I did this.”
I sigh. “You made a mistake. You acted before you fully thought about the consequences of distracting him. That Voildi saw what you did to the first one. He was luring you into a trap.”
“Zarix could die.”
“He could. But he wouldn’t want you to blame yourself. You did something stupid, and now you get to learn from it.”
Javir just glances up at my face and walks away.
“That was what he needed to hear,” a deep voice says, and I turn.
A man is standing a few feet away, surrounded by warriors. His face looks like it has been formed out of rock, his nose crooked and his hair braided back from his face. He smiles, and the effect is charming, his full lips softening his face as he steps closer.
“I’m worried about him,” I say.
He nods. “I will have my people watch him. He can have the illusion of space for now.”
Strangely, the way he says that sentence makes me want to smile.
“Thank you.”
“I am Dexar, the qatai of this tribe,” he says, and my eyes widen. Oh wow. This guy is the king. I feel the sudden urge to curtsy, and I tamp it down.
Instead, I nod. “I’m Beth.”
“Thank you for helping bring Zarix home.”
My eyes fill with tears, and I blink them away. “I’m partly responsible for his injury,” I say. “It was the least I can do.”
He raises one eyebrow, the movement oddly elegant. I expected him to move like a brawler, but he prowls like a leopard as he moves closer. The light hits his eyes, and I’m suddenly reminded of the green sky on this planet as the sun goes down.
“I will attempt to talk to Zarix now,” he says. “The information he has is crucial.”
“Can I come with you?”
He nods and gestures me ahead of him. We move into the tent, which is much larger than it appeared from outside. I count ten beds at first glance, and the healers have surrounded Zarix, who lies shirtless on the bed furthest from the entrance.
Along his upper chest and shoulders is the same shimmery blue-green pattern I noted on the warrior with the ripped shirt in the forest. From here, they definitely look like scales, and I have the strongest urge to run my finger over them.
Get your mind out of the gutter, Beth. The poor guy’s on death’s doorstep.
“He is conscious now, qatai,” one of them says, and Dexar steps forward. I follow in his footsteps as he moves closer to the bed.
“Zarix,” he says, and the warrior opens his eyes to slits.
“Tecar’s tribe is the first targeted,” he grinds out. “But that information can’t be trusted. Tellou turned on us.”
Dexar’s eyes darken dangerously, and I shiver.
“Just Tellou? Or all of his people?”
Zarix’s brow lowers in a deep scowl. “All of them. They believe they will fare better under the Voildi. Their people are not hunted for meat, so they have chosen to take their chances as the Voildi’s allies.”
Dexar nods. “Anything else?”
Zarix glances at me. “Her leg. She needs a healer.” He winces at something the healers do to him, and I blow out a steady breath, forcing myself to keep my eyes on his face.
I don’t think that’s what Dexar was referring to, but he nods.
“Recover well, Zarix,” he says. “We will need you.”
Dexar gestures to one of the healers, a Braxian woman with long dark hair, and she smiles at me.
I don’t want to leave Zarix’s side, but his eyes have already slid closed. I push away the urge to nestle close, hold his hand, and whisper encouraging words in his ear.
Whoa. I’m obviously so tired that I’ve slid into crazy territory.
“My name is Elliz,” the healer says.
“I’m Beth.”
I turn and follow Elliz, who has me lie on another bed. She begins to gently take Sonis’s bandages off my leg, and I close my eyes as her hands still.
Yeah, my guess is that it’s not looking good.
My eyes are hot as I lie still. She does something that makes me cry out, and I turn my head, opening my eyes as a low, furious growl sounds from Zarix’s bed.
The healers frown and glance at me.
“I’m sorry,” I say, suppressing a yelp as Elliz does something else particularly torturous.
I meet her eyes, which are sympathetic as she glances at my face. Then she pours something on my wound, and I lose all control as a scream rips from my throat.
I writhe in pain, attempting to breathe through the agony. Commotion on the other side of the tent has me turning my head, and I gape as Zarix sits up suddenly, snarling.
The healers shriek, jumping back from him, and I gasp as the blue-and-green scales on his chest turn so dark that they appear almost black.
“Give her something for the pain!” he roars, and Elliz flinches. I don’t bother protesting. For one, I’m close to sobbing, and from the fury on Zarix’s face, he’s not going to rest and let the healers work until I do what they say.
Elliz hands me a cup, and I gulp at the bitter liquid. There’s obviously no fake fruit flavors on this planet, and I pinch my nose shut as I drink some more.
