by Hope Hart
I tremble, and Nevada grins at me, her eyes wild.
“Bet you never imagined this when we were huddled in that cage,” she murmurs, and then she steps back, her gaze running over the warriors.
“Get in place,” she hisses, and the Braxians move as one, eyes lit as they finally get to see battle.
They crouch on the large posts, no more than five feet between them. Muscles tremble as they restrain themselves, waiting for Nevada’s signal.
The Voildi are now so close that I can see individual faces, and I stare at Nevada, willing her to make the call.
She’s a marine, which means she knows what she’s doing. But my heart is racing, blood pounding a beat in my ears as we watch them come even closer.
“Light it up, bitches!” Nevada roars, and the warriors grab the torches, holding them to the Trelga pods, which they haul at the incoming army.
Holy shit. They’re explosives.
Body parts fly, and their front line fractures as they realize what’s happening. The Voildi split, attempting to dodge the Trelga pods, but the Braxian warriors throw like pro baseball players, the packed muscles of their arms allowing them to let the pods fly with a force I couldn’t have imagined.
Nevada glances across at me, a grim smile on her face. “Your turn. Hit ’em hard, Beth.”
I step up beside her, lifting my crossbow. At every internal post, next to the pod-throwers, warriors reach for longbows and crossbows, waiting silently, poised and ready.
I attempt to block out the Voildi’s screams as they die, burning.
They’d kill you and eat you, Beth. Get your fucking head in the game.
One of them charges past the front lines, making his way toward the camp.
“Hold,” Nevada orders, and I grind my teeth as he gets closer and closer. Smoke is thick in the air, the smell of burning flesh mingling with the heady, strangely fresh scent of the pods.
“Hold,” Nevada repeats, and then more Voildi charge past their front line with a roar.
“Fire!” Nevada screams, and I block out everything but the Voildi closest to us, picturing my bolt going straight through his left eye.
I miss.
He weaves to the side, and then his teeth are bared as he lifts his sword, charging closer until he can’t be more than fifty feet away.
My next bolt hits his chest. He screams and goes down, but I’m already aiming and firing at the next, and the next.
It becomes almost routine, and I systematically shoot and kill as one of the Braxian women passes me bolts until there are no more bolts left. Nevada nods at me, and I climb down, feeling stunned and out of it, almost as if I’m sleepwalking.
Now it’s time for the mounted Braxians to play their part.
My heart slams a heavy beat in my chest, and my stomach clenches as I scan the crowd of warriors waiting near the camp entrance. Zarix meets my gaze, his mishua shifting her feet impatiently as they prepare for Tecar’s signal. On the other side of camp, Rakiz is readying his warriors to charge and circle behind the Voildi so we can attack them from both sides.
Fuck it.
I sprint toward Zarix, ignoring Nevada’s hand reaching for my arm. His eyes widen, and then he reaches out, lifting me onto his mishua. He buries his hand in my hair, pulling me close, his arms so tight that he’s almost crushing me in his embrace.
“Stay safe,” I murmur as he pulls away. “I mean it, Zarix.”
“I’ll be fine,” he says. Suddenly there are no hurt feelings between us, and nothing else matters except the fact that this could be the last time we speak.
That reminds me.
I reach beneath my dress, and Zarix’s eyes widen as I pull out the dragon scale.
“Take this.”
“No.”
“Zarix.”
“You wear it.”
I grind my teeth. “I’m going to be safe, hiding with everyone else in camp. You take it. Please. For me.”
Zarix reaches out, wiping tears off my face. He stares at me for a long moment. “You need this from me?”
I nod. “I know it’s small on you, but just wear it over your heart or something. A little protection is better than none at all.”
He takes the scale, but I can see that the effort costs him, a muscle ticking away in his left cheek.
“You will stay with Nevada,” he orders, and I nod. He looks over my head at Nevada, who must also nod because he finally sighs, shoving the scale beneath his shirt, where it covers his heart.
“I’m sorry for not being the male I should have been for you,” he murmurs, staring into my eyes. And for a moment, there’s no battle, no Voildi, no camp, just us.
“You’re exactly the male I need.”
He smiles at me, and it’s sad. “I love you.”
My cheeks are wet with tears, and I let out a hoarse laugh as I wipe them away. “Your timing is impeccable,” I say. “I love you too. Now don’t get dead.”
He doesn’t bother promising to stay alive. We both know it’s a promise he might break. Instead, he stares at me for one long moment, his gaze darting over my face. He brushes my hair back behind my ear and then helps me swing down from the mishua. I move back toward Nevada as Tecar glances at the warriors waiting for his signal. He raises his arm, and everyone goes silent.
“Today we show the Voildi that we do not fear them. We show traitors to our people that their betrayal will not be rewarded. Today we will make sure that any Voildi who happens to live on this planet in the future will flinch and hide at the word Braxian! Ride with glory! Fight with honor! Protect our people!”
His arm comes down, and the warriors roar, the sound almost deafening as they stream out of the camp entrance, galloping toward the battlefield.
I glance at Nevada, who is staring at the other side of the camp, where Rakiz is about to leave with his warriors. The air between them suddenly seems electric as they hold each other’s gaze, and then she finally grins, blowing him a kiss, and he nods, saluting her with his sword.
“That man,” she says. “Can you believe he’s making me stay in here?” She suddenly looks so disgusted that I almost laugh.
“To be honest, I’m surprised you let him bench you.”
Nevada scans our surroundings and then leans close, her voice lowering. “I’d be out there with him, but I just found out I’m pregnant. Would you believe that? These warriors have some kind of super sperm, so you may need to be careful unless you want to be planning playdates with Ellie and me.”
My mouth drops open. “Wow, um…are you happy about it?”
“Oh yeah, I am. I mean I’m a little pissed at the timing, but at least I’m not puking at everything in sight like Ellie. It’s just…hard staying behind. If Rakiz dies and leaves me as a single mother to his giant warrior baby, I’ll kill him.”
I can’t help but laugh as I finger the birth control implant in my upper arm. No giant alien warrior baby for me.
The sound of the battle swells, swords clashing, the roars and screams overwhelming to the ear. It’s everywhere, the battle so close that it feels as if the warriors are just a few feet away.
We head back toward the healers’ kradi, but instead of going inside, Nevada glances back at me, and we skirt around it.
“Come this way,” she murmurs, and I raise my eyebrows as she heads toward a rarely used area within the camp that’s tucked away behind the main cooking kradi.
“Check this out,” she says, and I grin as I take in the crates that she’s hidden behind a large piece of wood. We stack the crates up and climb to the top until we can finally see above the camp and across to the battlefield.
Most of our forces are in place, and we stand in tense silence as the Braxians charge into the fray. The Voildi have sheer numbers, and Killis has obviously managed to convince them to die for the cause as they attack with zero strategy except to overwhelm the warriors.
Unfortunately, that strategy seems to be working.
Terror makes my hands shake
as my eyes find Zarix’s large form on the front lines. He roars, taking down Voildi after Voildi, but it seems as if their numbers never decrease. There are always more waiting to attack.
“What happens when they get tired?” I murmur, and Nevada glances at me.
“This will be over before those hard-headed males get tired. Have you seen them train?”
Her voice is light, but I can hear the slight tremor in it, and she leans against me for support as Rakiz and his warriors attack the Voildi from the south.
“I need some damn binoculars,” I say.
We took out a good chunk of the Voildi army with our exploding pods and crossbows. But who knows if it’ll be enough to make a difference?
“There’s Killis,” Nevada spits, and I squint in the direction she’s pointing. The bastard is riding another mishua, who has also been mutilated. I grind my teeth. The mishua are proud, intelligent creatures. I have no doubt that the poor thing understands exactly what she’s being forced to do.
Nevada is right. Killis is wearing an eye patch. Nice work, Ivy.
Lafa’s tribe marches behind most of the Voildi, and it’s evident that Killis is using his own people as nothing more than meat for the Braxians’ swords in an effort to exhaust them and slow them down. Then the traitors will swoop in, and the worst of the war will begin.
“I can’t handle watching that man fight without me,” Nevada mutters, her face pale. “Distract me or something, will you? What’s going on with you and Zarix?”
I sigh. “We’re kind of all over the place. He just told me he loves me. And I love him too. But is it enough?”
Nevada raises an eyebrow. “You think you’ll stay and find out? Or will you go back to Earth?”
I open my mouth, and she elbows me in the ribs. “Take Zarix out of the picture. Could you be happy on Agron?”
“I don’t know. I have a career I love on Earth. But at this point, I don’t even know if I could keep dancing. I had only just recovered from an injury that almost kicked me into retirement, and now I’ve disappeared right before opening night. Other than dance, I have nothing on Earth. My parents are dead. I’ve got no degree and barely any savings. I don’t even have any friends who aren’t dancers themselves. No matter what I choose, it’s likely that I’m going to be starting my life from scratch.”
Nevada nods. “And what if you take Zarix into consideration? The question you need to ask yourself is if you’d be willing to give up everything and stay on this planet for him. If that answer is no, it’s best to just break it off quick. Like ripping off a Band-Aid.”
The idea hurts. It hurts enough that my hand reaches up to rub at my tight chest. Nevada doesn’t miss the movement and tilts her head.
“You don’t have to make a decision now, you know. When Alexis made that deal with Dexar, he agreed that if his warriors found any human women, they’d return them to Rakiz’s tribe. You’re more than welcome to come back with us.”
I think about her words for long moments while we watch the battle. Loving Zarix is hard, and I don’t know if he’ll ever be in a place where he feels he can risk truly being with me. Right now, we’ve spent almost every moment together since we met. But the fact is Zarix doesn’t want to love me.
I frown as I squint into the distance. “Does the tide seem to be turning?” I ask. “Or is it just wishful thinking?”
Nevada studies the battlefield as her hand slides down to caress her sword. She opens her mouth, but my attention is elsewhere as I tense, cursing.
“What?” Nevada asks.
“Javir, that little shit. He slipped his guard. Oh my God, he’s going to get killed.”
I leap off the crates, determined to do something—anything. All I know is that the kid’s going to die, and I can’t handle the thought of this world without Javir’s fast hands and gap-toothed smile.
I’m suddenly choking, and I claw at the arm that’s fastened around my throat, my nails scratching desperately.
“Freeze or die,” a voice rumbles, and I freeze.
The warrior holding me turns, allowing a tiny amount of air to slip down my throat. Nevada is poised on the crates, crouching, her sword out. She snarls at the warrior facing her, and he laughs.
I’ve seen him before. I have no idea what his name is, but he’s one of Tecar’s warriors. This is the worst kind of betrayal.
“You think you can take me, big boy?” Nevada taunts, tilting her head as she considers him.
He growls. “I’ll kill you for daring to think a female can carry a sword.”
Nevada grins savagely, her thighs tensing as she poises to leap and fight.
“Stop,” the warrior holding me says, once again cutting off my air until I claw at his huge arm.
I know that voice.
Something sharp digs into my side, and I go so still I barely breathe.
“Put down your sword, female, or your friend dies.”
Nevada stares at me, and I attempt to communicate with my eyes.
Don’t do it. They’ll just kill both of us.
She slowly lays down her sword, her lips bloodless as she shakes with rage.
“Get down,” the voice behind me orders, and I watch helplessly as Nevada jumps off the crates. I tense as the warrior slides his knife or sword up my side, and cool air hits my skin as it cuts through my dress.
He relaxes his arm enough for me to gasp out a few words.
“Zarix will kill you for this, Perik.”
Chapter Seventeen
Zarix
I roar, killing Voildi after Voildi. Their numbers are strong, but I have little doubt that after this battle, they will no longer outnumber Braxians by such a huge margin.
I look forward to it.
My face is wet with blood, continually spraying from the creatures who attack with barely a thought. They hope to overwhelm us, assuming that their sheer numbers can make up for what they lack in size, speed, and training.
Braxian warriors train for battle from the moment they can walk. Voildi hunt in packs—not because they want to but because they have to.
Killis will be responsible for the almost complete eradication of his race.
Lafa sits on his mishua in the distance, surrounded by Braxian and Voildi. His face is a mask of fury as Rakiz fights his way toward him, cutting through Voildi to the south.
Tecar drives his elbow into my side, and I turn, avoiding the sword that sails toward my face. A Braxian warrior. I search his face, looking for familiar features.
No. He’s too young to be my father.
Our swords meet, and Tecar slides his sword into the warrior’s side. The warrior growls, and Tecar kicks out, his powerful leg pushing the warrior off his mishua, leaving him to fall to the ground, where he’s quickly crushed as the riderless mishua bolts with wild eyes.
“Distraction kills,” Tecar says. “Attempt to find your father in this battle, and you won’t return to your female.”
He turns away as another of Lafa’s warriors attack, and I grind my teeth as I cross swords with a huge male. Tecar is right. I block out the warrior’s face as I swing my sword, and my kills begin to blur together until I’m wet with blood.
Lafa roars as Rakiz meets him in battle, and I force my attention away. The tribe king refused to fight from anywhere but the front lines, and to have suggested otherwise would have been an unforgivable insult. However, both Rakiz and Tecar are now targets as Killis and Lafa direct all their attention toward taking them down.
And then it happens. Some of the Voildi begin to retreat.
I laugh as hundreds of them break and flee. And so we are left with Lafa’s tribe and the few hundred Voildi that Killis trusted to defend him.
One of Lafa’s warriors swings his sword, aiming for my head. I block with my own sword, and he glances behind me, face turning purple at the sight of the Voildi falling over each other to leave the battlefield.
“Traitors!” he roars.
“What did you expect?” I growl.
This warrior is fast and desperate—a lethal combination. Lafa’s warriors are fresh in comparison to those of us who fight with Tecar’s tribe. Most of Lafa’s warriors have been waiting astride their mishua while we cut down Voildi after Voildi.
Unlike me, this warrior is not covered in blood, and it requires every drop of my concentration to meet each swing of his sword.
“Son!” a voice roars, and I tense. My eyes stay on the warrior, but his sword slips through my defenses, the tip slashing across the side of my neck before he thrusts it at my chest.
His eyes widen as his sword slides off my armor, and I lash out, my sword knocking his out of his hand as I direct Rexi, lunging forward and burying my sword in his throat.
He collapses off his mishua, and I turn, staring my father in the face.
He’s older, of course, and it’s shocking to see the impact life has left on his body. He still looks fit and strong, and I attempt to bury hurt at his betrayal under fury.
“Do not dare call me such. I would rather have no father than one who is a traitor.”
“You know nothing,” he snaps, bringing his mishua closer.
“I know you fled our tribe and now fight against them. If Mother was alive, she would kill herself from the shame.”
His hand is clenched around his sword, and I note the slight tremble in his arm.
“Your mother wasn’t killed by an animal,” he spits. His face is so flushed with fury, his expression so completely deranged, that he’s almost unrecognizable.
“What are you talking about?”
“She was killed by sword. Someone in the tribe murdered her. When I took this information to Hariz, he told me I was grieving and mistaken. But I know what I saw.”
I stare at him. Hariz is Dexar’s father, now dead and buried. The tribe king was an honorable man who would never have covered up her murder. My father has somehow forgotten that I also saw my mother’s body. She had been mauled, the claw marks unmistakable. Does he truly believe this? Or is it just a way to justify his betrayal?
“Her body was ripped apart by something with claws. Why would you claim otherwise?”
“Lies!” he snarls, and I clench my jaw. If he truly believes this, his mind has broken. Perhaps he needed someone to blame for his mate’s death. Needed somewhere to vent his feelings of helplessness and rage.