by Lili Zander
Except me.
Not going to be bitter about that.
Even though I knew that there would be no electricity in space, I brought my laptop along for the journey to Zoraht. (I was teaching myself to knit, and I had thirteen tabs open on my browser, all pointing to Ravelry.) I can keep track of Earth time, sort of, as long as my battery doesn’t run out of juice.
Today’s the one-year anniversary of my brother’s death.
Look at you, trying to couch that in passive voice. Let’s be brutally honest here, Bryce. You killed Liam. You might not have forced him to take the pills, but you did everything else.
For weeks, I’ve been trying to distract myself with Energizer-bunny level activity.
Brewing beer? Check.
Helping Ryanna make fruitcake with alien fruit and syn-made flour? Check.
Going on two disastrous dates with Draekons who were painfully disappointed when no mating magic happened? Check.
Salting fish? Feeding Kaida? Taking over Viola’s greenhouse chores? Check, check, and check.
Nothing has worked. Time ticks on, uncaring.
I could drink myself through today. I could drink glass after glass of kunnr wine, and sink into blissful numbness. But booze is an abyss, and I know it. Kunnr wine isn’t the answer.
Fluffy McCutie hugs, on the other hand, might be the kind of warm comfort I need.
You know, because I don’t have a mate.
Not that I’m bitter or anything. Really.
Maybe the Draekons can instinctively sense the ugliness inside. The same ugliness that kept you from helping Liam. For arguing with him about rehab instead of being there for him. Being a loving, supportive presence in his life.
Guilt and self-loathing are familiar presences. I push them away to the background. Right now, Fluffy needs me.
I think my pet escaped. There’s a weak spot in the shield, in one of the ventilation tunnels near the greenhouses. Everywhere else, the shield feels like a solid wall, and pushing through it is impossible. But in that one, hidden, spot, if you try hard enough, you can get through.
My damn karvil really hates being trapped. She misses the great outdoors. She misses the warmth of the sun on her fur. The smell of fresh air, free of pollution. She misses grazing in her favorite fields.
I caught Fluffy trying to get out two days ago. Crawling into the shaft, I’d pulled her out, sucking in my stomach to fit, and muttering curses under my breath at the tight squeeze. Then I’d told Arax about the vulnerability, and he’d assigned guards around the clock near that tunnel, even though the odds of the Zoraken finding the one weak spot in our defenses are low.
What my pet doesn’t realize? The great outdoors, especially on the prison planet, is a pretty dangerous place. The terrifying dwals—about the size of a pony, and raptor-smart—are one of many predators here. There’s also the swarms of hairus at night. The ahuma’s bite is venomous. Herds of argangana could trample her.
On a different day, I might be sensible, but today? Today, my chest is tight, and my eyes are itchy with remembered tears. Today, I can’t leave my orange fluff ball to fend for herself.
Today, I’m going to find my goddamn pet.
Bryce.
I put the book away in a drawer. It had been a therapist who’d suggested keeping the diary. “You might find it helpful,” he’d said.
It’s not particularly helpful. Some people find journaling cathartic. Not me. It’s just a habit, that’s all. Something to do. It’s not like there’s Netflix on the prison planet, and unlike the other women, I can’t use sex to pass the time. No threesomes for me. Not when every Draekon is desperate to find their mate.
Cock-blocked by biology. Or rather, twat-blocked.
The Draekons aren’t going to come looking for me. A few days ago, Rorix and Ferix, in the grip of the mating fever, had walked out of camp, and the Draekons hadn’t chased after them. They’d accepted their decision. It had been Sofia, Rorix and Ferix’s mate, who’d gone to find them, accompanied by Dariux.
I don’t have a mate. Nobody’s going to risk their life to come in pursuit.
Not that what I’m doing is dangerous.
Okay, it’s a little dangerous.
Fluffy is a creature of habit. I know where she grazes. Dariux’s skimmer is, fortunately for me, outside the Dsar Cliffs, stashed in a cave at the base of the mountain. Before he left with Sofia, he’d been sneaking out too, looking for Raiht’vi. “She’s a friend from childhood,” he’d said when I’d asked him about his search. “I can’t bear to think of her, alone and lost.” His lips had twisted. “Of course, she’s betrothed to Lenox now. Our past is old history.”
It didn’t sound like old history, but hey, if Dariux wanted to lie to himself, who was I to stop him? I’m an expert at burying my head in the sand myself.
Hopefully, Dariux found Raiht’vi.
Hopefully, Sofia found Rorix and Ferix.
Hopefully, they’re all okay. Safe and unharmed.
Hopefully, they’re not prisoners of the Zoraken.
Hopefully, I’m not walking into a trap.
Of course you’re not, I tell myself, forcing a note of cheer into my voice. If all goes well, it’ll take you less than an hour to find Fluffy. You’ll be back before anyone even notices that you’re gone.
As I’m giving myself a pep-talk, I’m also packing. Tent. Bed-roll. Supplies. Hairus-repelling paste. All of that goes into a crude pack.
Liam thought I was impulsive. You always act before you think, he’d scold me. I can’t always be there to pick up the pieces, Bryce.
It’s so vivid, the memory of him saying that to me. I’d been sixteen. My friend Jyoti and I had gone to a house-party on the outskirts of town with a couple of guys we’d just met. One of the guys—Brad Kettle—had tried to stick his tongue down my throat. I’d kicked him in the groin and jumped out of the car, and I’d called Liam for a ride back home.
He’d rescued me, of course. And then he’d proceeded to give me the older brother lecture all the way back home.
He was my big brother. The person who groaned at all my corny jokes yet tried to top them with even worse ones. He was my rock.
And now he’s gone.
I blink away the tears. It’s been a year, but the wound is as raw as ever. Today of all days, I can’t let myself dwell. Swinging the pack on my shoulder, I head toward the karvil-bait tunnel.
Haldax, my least-favorite Draekon, is standing guard. He frowns when he sees my pack. “What are you doing, Bryce MacFarland?”
“Going after Fluffy,” I reply, giving Haldax a cheerful smile. “I think she got out through the ventilation pipe.”
Haldax doesn’t hate us humans, but he definitely sees us as lesser. It’s not personal; he’s obsessed with blood status, and anyone who isn’t Highborn is inferior. He’s fun company, Haldax. Not. “Does the Firstborn know?”
“Sure,” I lie shamelessly. “Would I leave without telling Arax?”
Yes, of course I would. I like Arax—he’s a bit serious for my tastes, but he’s not a bad sort. But come on, I’m not a child. I refuse to ask for permission to leave.
“I don’t believe you.”
I shrug my shoulders. “You could ask him,” I suggest. “Of course, he’s been up all night, watching his mate puke her brains out. He’s probably tired and cranky and freaking out. I’m sure he’ll love to know why you’re bothering him with trivial stuff.”
Haldax wavers, and then yields. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
Too late, buddy. Too damn late. I’m already wriggling my way outside.
Fluffy McCutie, here I come.
2
Hurux
What a disaster.
A week after the dragons lay waste to our camp, we’re finally back to some semblance of order.
If we can call it that. One of the Adrashian ships has been damaged beyond repair. How the Adrashian Federation is going to view the damage of their property, I have no idea. For t
he moment, I have more pressing concerns.
The soldiers assigned to this mission are not from my company. These Zoraken resemble hardened criminals more than trained Zoraken.
Ten of them are missing. Undoubtedly, they’re off in search of Sofia Menendez, attracted by the massive bounty on her head.
When we get back home—if we get back home—I intend to see that they’re court-martialed and thrown out of the Navy for disobeying a direct order.
The other forty are still loyal to me. Thirty-two of them are patrolling the mountain inside which the human women have taken shelter. The remaining eight watch the Adrashian ships. We can’t risk anything happening to them; they’re our only way out of here.
I reach, by habit, for my tin of kesvet cookies, but it’s empty. Bast.
The cookies are an indulgence. My mother bakes the sweet crisps herself; she’s been making them for me all my life. One of my earliest childhood memories is of my father being dragged away by soldiers. I’d sobbed and tried to cling to him, and my mother had pulled me away, her face pale. Two days later, she baked the cookies for the first time.
The maternal display is unlike her, and maybe that infuses the treats with more flavor in my eyes. Every month, she sends me a full tin, no matter where I’m deployed, no matter where I am.
Except this time.
This assignment had finalized in the last minute. A shipment of cookies had been on their way, my mother had assured me, but I had couldn’t wait for them, of course.
She’d seemed upset about the sudden deployment, more worried than usual. So much so that I’d lied about the cookies, telling her they’d already reached me.
Why are you thinking about cookies?
I know why, of course. It’s because I’m avoiding thinking about the disquieting conversation I had with Dariux three days ago.
A knock on the door jerks me from my thoughts. Nardox comes in. “Commander Hurux,” he says, saluting me crisply. “We’ve run into a problem, Sir. Our communicators aren’t working. We can’t talk to central command. We’re even having issues with surface-to-surface comms.”
That’s not good. “Did the dragons damage our equipment?”
He shakes his head. “No, Sir. It’s almost as if someone’s blocking our signal.”
Someone. But who?
You know who, a voice inside me whispers. You heard Dariux’s transmission. The Lost City of the Draekons.
“What about the mountain shield? Have we broken through?”
Once again, Nardox shakes his head. “We’ve been concentrating all our firepower at it, but it still holds. Worse, it’s absorbing the energy we’re pouring into it, and it’s getting stronger.” He takes a deep breath. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
A shield that can’t be penetrated. Jammed communicators. All the evidence points to advanced tech.
I push aside my curiosity. As much as I’m intrigued by the idea of a hidden civilization that has flourished on the prison planet, my mission is clear. Find Raiht’vi. Retrieve the human women. “Tell the soldiers to keep at it.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Once he’s gone, my thoughts return, against my will, to my former mentor.
Once upon a time, I’d been a spy. I’d enjoyed the machinations, the intrigue, the ability to trade wits with the best and the brightest of the Empire. And none had been more talented than Dariux, one of Surax’s three assistants.
That was a really long time ago. Then Dariux had tested positive for the mutation, and had been exiled to the prison planet. So had Zunix, Surax’s other assistant. The only one to survive was Ru’vi ab Crosu.
I’d been younger then. More impetuous. Even back then, there had been rumors about Ru’vi. Every spymaster was ruthless; the position demanded it. But Ru’vi was vicious in a way that I couldn’t stomach.
I resigned my position. Joined the Navy, started over.
What if Dariux is right? What if the human women do not wish to return? What if Raiht’vi genuinely wishes to end her betrothal to the High Emperor?
When the call went out for volunteers to lead an impossible mission to the prison planet, I’d stepped forward at once.
Yes, every ship we’d sent had crashed.
Yes, there were those who believed that it was time for the High Emperor to give up and pay reparations to the Triumvirate. Even those who whispered that it was time for Lenox to forget about Raiht’vi, and choose another bondmate.
Not me. I believed in the mission.
The human women are from a planet outside the Empire. Until the Zorahn ships approached Earth, they didn't even know there were other civilizations in the galaxy.
These women trusted the Empire to take care of them. The High Emperor personally guaranteed their safety. We must try to save them; our honor demands it.
They’ve found mates among the Draekons, Dariux had insisted. They’re happy. They don’t want to return.
Sofia Menendez had said the same thing. Then she’d run up the hill, toward the rampaging dragons, brave and bold and not at all afraid.
At the memory of the dragons, burning everything in the clearing, angry and out-of-control, I shudder in horror.
Each one of those beasts had been larger than our ships. When they’d swooped in, for one shameful moment, I’d been filled with terror. The dragons had been flying overhead, setting the woods on fire, and it had taken all my courage to push aside my fear and shoot at them.
How could anyone find those creatures attractive? No. The Draekons are repulsive. Captivating, but repulsive.
I don't know what lies the Draekons have told the humans. I don't know why the humans believe they are better off here with these savages, but they're not. No one could love the beasts, and I cannot allow myself to forget that Dariux is one of them.
Our comms are down, but the tracking system still works. On my screen, bright green dots indicate the humans. Eight dots. Eight women.
Hang on. One of the dots is moving. Someone’s outside the shields.
I get to my feet. I don’t trust any of the soldiers with retrieving this woman. I’m getting her myself.
3
Cax
For days, weeks, months even, I’ve been watching her. Bryce MacFarland.
She fascinates me. The other women stay close to camp, but not her. With her pet karvil as company, she roams the Lowlands far and wide. Though this planet is alien and often hostile, she’s fearless.
She’s smart too. Never sets out without supplies, never assumes she’ll be able to find shelter. She’s endlessly curious. Vibrant. We have all of the humans and Draekons under surveillance, of course, but Bryce MacFarland is the only one I can’t take my eyes off.
So when she takes off on her own, of course I follow. This time, there’s a company of badly trained Zoraken roaming about on the planet’s surface. This time, she’s in real danger.
I’m speeding toward the Dsar Cliffs in a skimmer, the only piece of technology that the Senate has authorized to leave Ashara, when my comm pings. It’s Silu, my second-in-command. “I’ve only been gone a few hours,” I quip. “Don’t tell me, you couldn’t live without me.”
Normally, that’s the kind of remark that causes Silu’s feathers to ruffle in irritation. Today, it doesn’t even register. “Ashara’s been attacked,” she says grimly.
“What?” I take my eyes off the jungle, and almost collide head-first into a tree. Stopping the skimmer, I pay the comm my full attention. “Tell me everything.”
“The shields were dropped. For twenty minutes, give or take, we were visible to the Zorahn Navy. Seven ships got through. They dropped bombs and skrath.”
Skrath. Energy seekers. Had they disabled the power grids, we would have been defenseless.
Shock runs through me, but my training comes to the fore. “Casualties?”
“No fatalities. Some wounded. Nothing the healers can’t manage. Nixmi Tower took some damage.” She takes a deep breath. “I made a mistake, Commande
r Cax. I didn’t think anyone in the Zorahn Navy would believe Dariux. We didn’t block his message in time, but still, he’s been exiled for sixty-five years. They should have dismissed his talk of a lost city as the ravings of a madman.”
“They should have.” I follow Zorahn politics closely; it’s the smart thing to do when your city is hidden smack dab in the middle of the Empire. “Admiral Nosrux wouldn’t have paid that message any attention. But there is someone in power who knows exactly how dangerous Dariux is.” I rub my hand across my eyes. “I’m willing to bet that Ru’vi ab Crosu is now in charge of this mission.”
Silu knows Adrashian politics better than Zorahn, but even she knows the Spymaster of the High Empire. “Lenox’s lover is now leading the search for Lenox’s bondmate-to-be?” Her tail flicks into the screen frame. “I will never understand your people, Commander.”
I smile without humor. “I don’t understand Lenox either. Double the guards on Raiht’vi. People you trust personally.”
“It will be done.” Silu leans forward with a frown. “As you predicted, the Senate session was inconclusive. They’re waffling, as usual. I gave Sofia access to darniq. Her Draekons were cured in time to help take down the ships.” For the first time, she seems to notice what I’m wearing. “Why are you half-naked? You look ridiculous.”
“Thank you, Silu.” My voice is dry. “This is a disguise. If I’m caught by the Zoraken, then I can pretend to be one of the exiles.”
She snorts. “Those idiots couldn’t catch anyone.”
“I wouldn’t underestimate Commander Hurux.” I twirl the crude bone knife I’m carrying between my fingers. “Our shields dropped. Ships found their way through the asteroid belt. Neither of those things is an accident.”
“No,” Silu agrees. “We have a traitor in our midst.”
She wouldn’t be calling me without information; she’s far too competent for that. “Who’s had access to the shield room in the last week?”
“You. Me. Every member of the Senate. A couple of techs.”
