by Ryan Muree
His stomach tightened, hands curling into fists. This wasn’t what he had intended. He needed to get the focus back on him and his freedom. And Nida’s.
He needed to remember that. His freedom meant her freedom, too.
Brynntial took another sip from her glass and smacked her thin lips. “I apologize for your treatment and what you’ve been informed of. Nida should not have discussed the ceremony with you.”
His brain stopped. What had she just said? “You’re apologizing to me for learning why you’ve kept me? You’re apologizing because I found out?”
“Well—”
“You’re not apologizing for using me. You’re apologizing that I’m finding out about you using me.” He stood, accidentally kicking the chair back behind him.
She jumped and stood in return. “Rowan, please.”
“It’s Rowec,” he barked. “You want to use me, force me to stay however long you want, and you don’t even know who I am. I am Rowec of the Zchi Village. I am a warrior. And if you kill me, my people will come for you.”
Brynntial sat back down, unimpressed.
The gall. The confidence. She had manipulated his brother’s small misstep into a massive boon for her family. And she looked damn near pleased with herself over it, too.
If she wanted to test what the Zchi warriors could do, then let her. They’d come for him, eventually. They were probably already on their way there.
The guards caught his eye. They had moved forward, no doubt to settle him down or remove him if necessary.
“Please,” Brynntial whispered, “let’s sit and have a meal. We are both capable of discussing this diplomatically.”
He shook his head but sat nonetheless. He was really starting to hate that word. Maybe he wasn’t meant for being diplomatic. Maybe his brother had been right, and fighting was all he’d be good for.
Ascara brought out their plates of food and smiled at him. He caught her nudging Nida on her way out, but Nida remained still and didn’t react.
“Rowec, I’m terribly sorry. I’m just as flustered as you are. Can you blame us?”
Yes. He poked at his dinner.
The same slug parts and juices filled his stone plate. He could never eat this grub, seeing as the urge to vomit was already giving him trouble. He took the second goblet of water and guzzled it down.
“I have to be honest,” Brynntial said. “For someone from the Zchi Village, I had not expected this sort of response.”
He pushed his plate away an inch, more as a show of refusal than anything else. “What does that mean?”
“You’re a fighting clan. Everyone knows that. Before the treaty, you kept all the Yvelkians in line with your strength—”
“You know about the treaty?”
“And yet,” she continued, “you’re surprised that we’ve kept you prisoner? You would do the same if the others crossed into your lands, let alone stole from you.”
She wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t the same. There was a difference. “What do you know about the treaty? Are you part of it?”
She took a tiny bite of her meal. “I know that the treaty is the only thing keeping all of you petty humans alive. Please, for just a moment, consider this situation from my perspective,” Brynntial said. “We are a dying people. You know what it’s like as a warrior to have your people’s lives in your hands, yes?”
Yes.
“You’d do anything to save them, wouldn’t you?”
Yes.
She rested her elbows on the table and folded her hands neatly behind her plate. “Now, imagine all you have to do is give up something—say, your life—to save them. Would you do it?”
Without question.
She closed her eyes as if understanding the meaning behind his lack of a response. “Now, imagine that was only a temporary solution. If you could sacrifice just one more life along with yours, you could save an entire generation. You’d never take another life. Only yours and the one necessary to save your people. Would you do it?”
Against their will? The rules of war were different. This wasn’t the same. He wasn’t at war with the Tialans until they’d kidnapped his brother. He wouldn’t ask another clan’s member to give up their lives to save his own people. It would be cruel. “No.”
Brynntial bristled. “No?”
“I would never take another life without their agreement. Our fighters get the choice.”
Brynntial’s nostrils widened as she inhaled. “Your kind has murdered your own a million times over. I’m trying to create life, and your kind is determined to remove it until there’s a winner!” Her voice had risen. Frustrated? Surprised?
“That’s not what I meant—”
“I’ve seen what your kind is capable of!” She tossed her napkin to the table. “You kill randomly—”
He shook his head. “Not random. We kill out of necessity. Kill or be killed.”
“Are you sure there’s a difference?”
He dropped his hands to the table and rose. “It wasn’t right, but those men volunteered for the fight—”
“All of them?”
No. He had told Nida himself. He had trained them since they were little. It was their way of life.
She smacked her lips. “Then there’s no difference—”
“At least they were fighting for something they believed in.”
“And I’m fighting for my family’s lives!” She squinted at him. “We’re not even going to slaughter you. We just need you to stay through the ceremony.”
“Well, I’m not going to play along with this romantic dinner under some grand illusion that I fall in love with you and never leave!” His hands flew as he spoke, the fury had grown full strength to the edge of his patience. Soon, the guards would step in.
Brynntial’s eyes widened as if she had been stabbed by the metal prong she had been gripping. “You should ask your elders about diplomacy.”
He bent across the table at her. He had to stay on topic. “For the most part, I’ve behaved, and it’s only thanks to Nida that I’ve not hurt your disgusting sisters or run away again. I will stay for the ceremony, but I want my freedom!”
Brynntial shot a piercing stare back and forth between Nida and him. Suddenly, she stood, slamming her hand on the table. “Diplomatically? Considering that I’m speaking with a murderous Zchi warrior, we should consider ourselves so lucky to be alive,” she snarled. “How many clans have you decimated all for control?”
He swallowed. Where was this going? This wasn’t the topic—
“How many?” she demanded, “Because I know, and I know that you and your kind don’t handle things diplomatically.”
He was never proud of what the Zchi had accomplished. The lives lost. The blood staining the fields until the next rains. And he had been responsible for some of the most heinous of crimes—slaughtering anyone in his path.
He closed his eyes and sighed. That was long behind him.
“But we’re too beastly, though? Hm?” Brynntial took a deep breath. “We bring life to this jungle, sustenance your people rely on, but we’re the lowly slitherskins?” Her words slid out between clenched teeth. She hated him, or so it seemed.
Perhaps this was as much her diplomatic approach at working with him for the sake of the ceremony as it was his.
“You lie to yourselves,” she continued. “Your entire species is a lie. We’re not the beasts.”
He rubbed his jaw and forehead and sought Nida’s reaction, but she was fixated on her feet. Had the truth about him and his people hurt her feelings? Had he ruined his chance at helping her?
After an extended silence, Brynntial took another deep breath, more sigh than anything else, and closed her eyes. “Perhaps we are both too emotional. Rowec, I apologize for the way Drathella cared for you. I apologize for the way you learned about our hatching ceremony. Let’s postpone this until after the pre-hatching festival. I believe that we can at the very least get along. We both could stand to make a little
bit more of an effort.”
He shook his head. He couldn’t give her any more room. He had to put his pieces into play. “I want my freedom after the ceremony.”
She scoffed. “That’s just not—”
“I want my freedom after the ceremony.” This time he said it louder, stronger. He wouldn’t mention Nida. She could escape with him if she still wanted to, and she could go wherever she wanted to get away from here—even if it meant not with him.
There was a long pause, before she finally said, “Fine.”
He squinted at her. “Fine?”
“Fine. After the ceremony, you can have your freedom. You may walk out of here freely.”
This time she had a real smile, a genuine attempt instead of just a wide mouth with teeth. Why was she being so simple about this? Why the sudden flip?
Something was off. She was hiding something.
“You’re lying,” he whispered. “You’re keeping something from me. What is it? As soon as the ceremony is over, you’ll kill me? You’ll lock me up back in the cell? What is it?” he demanded.
Brynntial’s smile turned smug. “Out. Take him out now.”
The guards dug their claws into his biceps and began dragging him out.
Nida lifted her chin and a finger as if to speak, but quickly dropped them as he passed. Her eyebrows were furled together. Worry had been etched in the creases around her mouth.
She probably hated him now. She probably didn’t want to escape with him even if he figured out how—and he would. He had said too much, an utter failure on all counts and never focused on what was important. He had practice hiding his physical weaknesses while fighting, but mental games? He’d shown too much, gave Brynntial too much information about himself by losing his temper so easily.
Brynntial had been right. His people were murderous. That’s why he had been set on not being a warrior but a more diplomatic leader, and he’d failed his first test.
And then there was Nida. A safe spot for his mind to rest, she was his anchor. His point of focus.
His guards dumped him back into his room. Raz popped his head up, evaluating the disturbance.
Rowec stumbled but recovered quickly to face them.
One purple-scaled, the other yellow.
He’d start keeping track of guard duty changes now, measuring up who was weakest or newest at their post, and after the ceremony, make for his escape.
CHAPTER 14
Nida took three deep breaths and followed Brynn down the narrow, golden hallway to her room.
Rowec had looked so concerned when he’d passed. It was fury when he’d looked at Brynn, but concern when the glint in his eyes had caught hers as he was being hauled off.
She groaned.
She knew the humans weren’t perfect and could be cruel. But she also knew that generalizations were just that. She was part human and had none of those murderous tendencies her sisters talked about so much. And neither did Rowec.
Rowec had seemed embarrassed, defensive, and he’d had no reason to be. He’d already proven that he—that humans—were more than what Brynn had wanted to make him out to be.
The way Brynn had spoken. She didn’t respect humans. She used them. They were a resource to her as much as the gold jewelry in her hair and the Tialan stones beneath her feet.
Rowec was good. There was good in his heart. She had seen it when he glanced at her in that hallway the first night. She had seen it in every lingering smile and touch. In the way he’d taken her hand after his jungle escape, in his playfulness in the durlo garden, in his tenderness for the hatchery.
After tonight, he might have changed his mind about helping them, though. Her stomach felt heavy.
She had wanted to go to him, but it had been better to stay in her sister’s good graces for the moment.
“Can you believe him?” Brynn paced in her private chambers. “To talk so poorly of me.”
Nida bristled. “I think it went both ways.”
Brynn blinked her large green pupils at her and held her hands out. “What? What are you even saying, Nida?”
She inhaled slowly. “I’m saying that… you insulted his entire species and insinuated he’s a giant murderer, but expect him to have a romantic dinner with you and be okay with helping us?”
Brynn stopped and narrowed her stare. “Why are you concerned with what I said to him?”
“Well, I’m just saying that—”
Brynn waved her off and began pacing again, mumbling to herself about how much he knew. “He seemed prepared for this. You helped him too much.”
Too much.
Had she been that obvious? Had Brynn been paying more attention than she’d realized?
She couldn’t risk Rowec’s safety—or the future of her unborn sisters—by getting any closer. She had to lie. “Brynn, I’m sorry. He was asking a lot of questions, and as you see he’s very demanding—”
Her sister waved her hand at her again, dismissing the thought. “No, you’re right. I can clearly see how demanding and abrasive he is. It’s a wonder you were able to tolerate him. Oh, how did our great sister love her mate so much? Was he this… this… ruthless?”
“For some reason, I don’t anger him as much.”
“Well, I mean, considering.” Brynn looked her over, clearly insinuating her human likeness.
Brynn had never been as cruel about her situation as Drathella. But she was never as loving as Ascara either. Brynn treated her like family, but only Ascara treated her as an equal.
“I think,” Nida said, trying to relax her jaw, “he’s just a bit frustrated. They don’t like the same foods we eat or the things we drink. I think he’s used to being out and active, and he’s been cooped up inside this temple, and he’s lonely. That’s probably why he lashed out at you like that.”
An excuse was good. Well, that and it was probably partially true. But his behavior was not just because of his hunger or boredom. If Brynn had seen him the first day…
Brynn stopped and gripped the back of her chair. “Yes, of course.” She laughed. “Of course, that makes so much more sense now. I keep forgetting they’re so primitive.”
Nida cringed. “You could do better to consider them as equals, Brynn.”
It had come off so flippant, so casual, she only caught her tone when Brynn froze and glared at her. The pause growing until it filled the room with total silence.
“Are you falling for him, Nida?”
Her hands went clammy, and a sweat broke out across her brow. “What?” How in the world…? The heat from her cheeks enveloped her. She swayed but kept her hand on the back of a nearby chair for balance. “No. No, that’s… that’s ridiculous—”
“Agreed.”
She snapped her mouth shut and swallowed.
“It doesn’t matter.” Brynn sauntered over to her cluttered vanity. “He can’t escape until the hatching anyway. I’ll make sure of that. Then after, it won’t matter anymore.”
It was true, he’d have a difficult time escaping, but… “Wait. Why won’t it matter after the ceremony? You told him he’d be free.”
Brynn flopped her arms dramatically and reached for a decanter of fermented juice and a glass. “Oh, you know.”
Nida tilted her head and rounded the fluffy white bench between them. “No, I don’t know. What happens after the ceremony, Brynn?”
Brynn lifted her eyebrows at her as she gulped from the goblet and plopped herself down into a large green chair. Some juice sloshed out and onto the bright yellow rug at her feet. “He dies. I die. We both die!”
Nida shook her head. Brynn was losing her mind. How was she already intoxicated from the juice? Had she started before dinner?
Nida yanked the cup from her hand. “What’s wrong with you? You don’t die. The last queen and her mate performed the ceremony, and then they left to explore Lousha together…”
Brynn’s eyes lifted in a smile as she took the cup back and drank some more.
“Brynn.” H
er voice trembled. “Brynn, no. You said—”
“I walked her and her ignorant mate—”
“Ignorant? He didn’t know?” she blurted. “They were in love!”
“Love makes you blind, Nida.” Brynn’s glare iced over. “I walked with them into the sanctuary, Sister did her Life Weaving, they vanished in a beam of radiant, lovely light, the new sisters hatched, and I became queen.”
Brynn had said it as if recalling an honorable moment, but all Nida could see was a human, whose kind had been painted as evil and cruel and had unknowingly followed his love to death.