An arm slipped under his dislocated shoulder, and he groaned.
“Sorry, but you’re the priority. I have to get you out of here, Commander.”
“No, she’s — ” Someone reached under his other shoulder — the one with the gunshot — and black fog bled into his vision. His wings and feet dragged along the floor as his guardsmen carried him into the hallway. He’d barely registered the alarm blaring everywhere. His troops clearly needed to work on their diversion tactics.
A blaster shot whizzed by his head. Wync returned fire, while Gix covered his body with hers. He grabbed her neck and flattened them both on the ground. As Wync laid down a barrage, Roden pulled her ear close to his lips. “Gix, I need you to do something.” Before she could respond, he relayed his instructions.
When he released her, she unholstered another blaster and handed it to him. “I’m not sure I — ”
“Go!” he ordered.
After throwing an anxious glance over her shoulder, Gix ran back down the hallway they’d come.
Staying low and against the wall to avoid the gunfire, Roden turned and fired a strafing line across the hallway. Wync had downed one of the guardsmen already, leaving only one. With two blasters now firing at him, the remaining guardsman was convinced that fleeing was the wiser option.
Silence reclaimed the hallway, and Roden pulled himself to his feet with a grunt. Wync reached out, and Roden held a hand up. The larger Draeken stepped back with a shrug. Roden started moving forward as quickly as he could, while trying to avoid stumbling in the spinning hallway. Which was pitifully slow. When they reached the next intersection, Roden took a left.
“Our ship is this way,” Wync said, nodding his head in the opposite direction.
“We go this way.”
“No time,” Wync replied. “We’re cutting it too close already.”
Roden had spilled plenty of blood in his time. Being ruthless was one of his best traits. No life had been worth even a hundredth of his. Until now. “You prep the ship. I’ll be right there. We
need
her.”
“But, sir … ”
Roden didn’t respond. The sounds of blaster shots erupted down the hallway Roden needed to take. His body utterly without strength, he had to make this quick. The sounds of dozens of boots pounding on the floor came closer. He cranked a knob on his blaster, widening the blast path and stumbled down the hallway.
“
Fyet
.” Wync threw his hand in the air, then grabbed him by the shoulders and twisted him around. “Sorry about this, sir.”
Roden couldn’t raise his arm in time to block the punch to his face. His vision blackened with white pricks of light. Just because he couldn’t rely on his eyes didn’t mean he was down. He brought a knee up hard to Wync’s gut. The larger man bent over with a wheeze.
Roden put a hand on the man doubled over and paused. By the echoes in the hallway, they were vastly outnumbered. With his injuries, he was more of a ghost than a warrior, leaving Wync and him to guaranteed death if they remained. He was useless in this condition. With a scowl, he released his guardsman. “Let’s go.”
With every step away from Nalea, his mind grew number. With a clenched jaw, he thought of the woman who’d become as important to him as his race’s survival. He’d failed her as surely as he was failing his race.
By the time he stumbled into the ship bay, he knew that he’d failed. The place had turned into a battle zone. Ships were on fire. Draeken fought against Draeken. Sorrow filled him as he followed Wync to a small transport ship near the edge of the bay. Gix was already in the pilot’s seat, plugging in navigational points, and Wync claimed the only other seat. Roden didn’t argue. Mentally, physically, he was in no shape to give orders. With a sigh, he collapsed onto the floor.
He closed his eyes, his heart breaking. He’d signed Nalea’s death warrant tonight. He’d forced his troops to choose between him and Hillas. How many Draeken would die for his decisions? Everything he’d done was to save Draeken lives, not destroy them. This was the last thing he’d wanted.
Movement at his side brought his eyes open. “Did you get it?” he asked, fighting for the strength to speak.
Gix nodded as she injected something into him. “This will help with the pain,” she said, and her next words sounded distant. “You’re safe now.”
“No.” He sighed, as the drug began to steal his mind. “We just started a civil war.”
Nalea knew Roden was escaping when she’d heard the first shots fired. His pain flooded her again, and his furor tore at her. At first, a small sphere of warmth buried somewhere deep inside her caused her to inhale.
Hope
. Gritting her teeth, she crushed that sphere before it had a chance to make her think of something stupid. Like that Roden would come for her.
Of course Roden would escape. Of course he’d leave her behind. She no longer brought any value to his end game. Her hands fisted. She tried to tamp down the concern for her
tahren
that simmered somewhere in her defective heart. Damn the bond for screwing with her senses, because there’s no way she should ever willingly feel anything for Roden Zyll.
Damn you for making me
feel
.
Yes, it was her fault. She’d allowed the bond to take hold. At least she wouldn’t have long to sulk. The chaos outside her cell was merely delaying the inevitable. Her entire body still ached from the
tahren
feed. She sat, cross-legged with her arms bound behind her, in the center of the blazing hot cell, and made her prayers to the great Uhl. Forced her focus away from the bright lights surrounding her, away from the pain and angst coming from her
tahren
, and away from the Draeken lord who’d succeeded in torturing her in the cruelest way of all.
The thought brought her back to her darkest weakness. Of a man with tattooed wings, who’d pressed himself between her thighs. Of sensual murmurs as he claimed her. Of her orgasms as her soul claimed his and no other. And of the inevitable abandonment. Roden had gotten into her soul and shredded it. Yeah, she had no problem betraying Roden. And so she began to wait …
The night Nalea killed Lord Homs wasn’t called Blood Night, not until days later. Ironic, really. The night started off not bloody at all. All three moons were full, with no clouds to block their pure beauty. Lord Homs had given Nalea a night off from her studies, to go for a walk. She’d asked her mother to come along, but Nexa often chose to spend her nights in the company of Homs instead.
Nalea sulked, but Homs was a good man. He’d been like a father to her. He’d even asked her once to call him so, but she’d snapped at him, and he never asked again. She walked her usual route, all the flowers were in full bloom under the night sky. It was getting late. She was just about to head back when she heard the yells.
Scrambling up the hill, she crawled under a shrub to hide. Fear gripped her. She couldn’t move forever as she watched. First the blood-charges rained down on Lord Weer’s estate. Minutes later, Lord Weer was dragged, still in his sleepwear, into the courtyard. A horde of angry Sephians surrounded him. They tied the Lord to a tree, and three large Sephian males approached.
In their hands they each bore a blood-whip. With each lash, Lord Weer screamed out in agony. The three continued until the Lord cried out to gods he didn’t believe in to help him. No one, not even his servants, came to his aid. Long after Nalea could no longer tell where the blood began and where his skin ended on his back, the men stepped back, rolling their whips and fastening them to their hips.
Lord Weer hung limply from his restraints, moaning and whimpering as the poison coursed through him. The men ignored him, instead talking to the band of Sephians with them. One of the men pointed to the west, and Nalea’s eyes widened. That was the direction to her home!
She shuffled out from the bush, and took off at a dead run back to her home. She had to warn Lord Homs! She ran until her chest burned and her breaths came in gasps. She kept running until her legs nearly gave out but she never stopped. She jogged through the courtyard and up the steps, crying out when she tripped and landed hard on her knee. Pulling herself back up, she reached to the top of the stairs and panted.
Turning to the door, she didn’t bother knocking. Just pushed the door open and stepped inside. In a rush, she jumped toward the massive bed. She reached out to wake him and froze. Ran to the window instead. Several vehicles had pulled up outside Lord Homs’s estate, and Sephians began to pour out.
No! She turned back to Lord Homs, still sleeping soundly in his bed. Thought back to Lord Weer, who was probably still suffering in agony alone. But it was Lord Homs’s face she saw. Homs, the only father she’d ever had, was about to suffer the same fate.
A tear fell down her cheek. Frantic, she searched the room for a place for Homs to hide. Her gaze froze on his nightstand. Silver glinted in the moonlight. The blade he always carried.
With a sniffle, she wiped her nose and stepped closer. Her body was shaking, her breath coming in short pants. When her fingers wrapped around the blade, she bit back a sob. She scolded herself. She had to do this. She had to make sure Lord Homs wouldn’t hurt.
She held the knife out, and then pulled it down and toward her, as though cutting a roast. The cut was deep and jagged. Blood poured forth, looking like a dark river in the moonlight.
Nalea whimpered. The blankets next to Homs moved, and Nalea jumped back. A figure sat up, and Nalea dropped the blade.
Nexa frowned at her daughter, and then saw Homs. She raised a hand to her mouth. “Nalea, what have you done?” Yells from outside pulled her mother’s attention to the window. Splitting her gaze between Nalea and the window, she went to the sill. She gasped. “It’s begun!” she cried out in terror.
She grabbed onto her daughter and shook. “The death forces will kill me for this!”
Even with tears pouring down her cheeks, Nalea stood firm. She reached up and cupped her mother’s cheeks. “Go. I will hold them off.”
Her mother’s eyes went wide. “I won’t lose you, too.”
She pushed at her mom, knowing if she delayed, fear could make her change her mind. She bent down and picked up the bloody blade. “Go!”
Nexa glanced back at Homs and sobbed. She took another look at her daughter for a long, frozen moment, then spun and ran out the door. Nalea hastily wiped her tears and followed, but when her mother took the left stairwell, Nalea went all the way down the steps, not stopping until she walked into the middle of the courtyard.
The death force was already pulling together ranks, and one of the three men stepped forward. She held up the blade. Lord Homs’s crimson blood dripped onto the ground. “We are free.”
Nalea jolted to consciousness at the sound of the door to her cell opening. The lights were now dimmed, and the sounds of fighting had long ago melted into silence. She no longer felt Roden, so he likely was unconscious again, leaving her behind to suffer her fate alone.
Rather than opening her tender eyes, she laid there on her back, unmoving, no need to look up to see who entered. “Hillas, or should I say,
Otas
?”
“
Daughter
.”
“Let’s not play games. My father is dead.”
The metallic
thud
of booted feet came closer.
Thud.
The shuffle of wings.
“Your
tahren
has abandoned you, just as he’s abandoned his people. The coward fled without even trying to save you. I have it on video if you’d like to see.”
“No, thanks.” She forced her body to remain calm.
Breathe. Relax. Breathe.
“I see you’re not surprised.”
“Should I be?”
“Look at me.” When she didn’t, he raised his voice. “I command you to look at me.”
Exhaling, Nalea came back to a seating position, tired muscles protesting the movement. She pried her dry, burned eyes open. The air assaulted her injured eyes.
A finger caught a runaway tear. Distorted, Hillas’s face came into view. If she didn’t know better, it almost looked as though he was concerned, though they’d never met before tonight. “They never should’ve left the lights on. It was never my intention to harm you. I’ll see to it that you get medical attention.”
She saw right through his tactics. The old sympathy ploy. “Why should you care?” she countered.
“We are family.”
“Bullshit.”
“Fair enough.” He knelt before her. “I care because we can help each other.”
While she’d spent a life hating Hillas and the Draeken, her hands were figuratively — and quite literally — tied. “Go on.”
“We can help both of our people by standing together.” Hillas said. “I have no hatred toward the gold-skins. Together, we can broker a peace.”
She came to her feet, and he took a step back. “I saw the power cells. What’s to stop you from just taking what you want?”
He blew out a puff of air. “A wise man once told me that the threat of power was better than power. He planned to force peace upon this world. Now it is my place to bring peace. One way or another.”
As the man spoke, she realized that he lacked the strength and wisdom of the Grand Lord. Otas had confidence. He just didn’t have the gift for leadership. It was inevitable that he would be discovered for the fraud he was.
She tightened her lips. When that time came, if he wasn’t aligned with a Puftan, he’d be publicly executed. He
needed
Nalea. Not only was her life safe for now, she could turn Otas’s weakness to her advantage. “If I play along with your little charade and act the good little Puftan, there can be no further aggressions against the Sephians.”
He balked. “We haven’t attacked the Sephians once since leaving Sephia. You cannot deny that the Sephians have been the aggressors here. Listen, I do not wish to launch an offensive against the Sephians, but if they continue to attack our people, I will be forced to retaliate.” He began to pace. “Perhaps if you were to talk with your people … ”