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As we walk the winding tunnels back to my quarters, my thoughts drift back to the Al’fa. The way his body blocked out the flickering glow of the torches in the chamber. The glint of sharp teeth in a half-smile. The shadow of pain behind his stoicism.

I could use that. But the unsettling part is, I don’t want to. I want to understand him and that is more dangerous than any plan I could weave. When we reach my chambers, Khiara finally speaks, voice taut.

“He is dangerous.”

“So am I,” I echo softly, repeating the Al’fa’s words from earlier.

His jaw tightens. “Do not trust him.”

I sigh, nodding. Khiara lifts the leather door allowing me to step through. He follows me inside. He’s on duty tonight as my personal guard, but normally they wait outside the door while I prepare for bed.

I kneel next to the low-burning fire pit, grabbing the poker and stirring the coals before reaching to add fuel. Khiara grabs it before I do, adding chips to the coals. The sputtering flames lick at them then catch. I hold my hands over the low flames, needing the warmth.

“Trust isn’t part of the plan,” I answer.

I don’t look at him because even as I say it, I know I’m lying to him, and maybe to myself. Something passed between us in that chamber. Something neither of us is ready to name. And as much as I try to bury it beneath duty and pragmatism, it lingers, curling like smoke in my thoughts.

I need to be careful. The Al’fa is no fool. And neither am I. Yet I can’t help but feel… drawn. To him. To the storm raging behind those wary eyes. And storms, as I know all too well, can bring both ruin and rebirth.

9

ELARA

The cell feels colder, or maybe it’s dread sinking deeper into my bones. I sit on the smooth stone floor with my knees pulled to my chest. Across from me, I hear the Zmaj warrior pacing the confines of his cell. The rasp of his tail as it drags across the stone, his low growls, and occasional hisses set the tone.

I count his trips back and forth. Every third time he grabs the door and tries to break free in a fit of fury. The rattling doesn’t change, giving no hint that it might give.

“Are you ever going to stop pacing?” I ask quietly, trying to keep my voice steady despite the fear that claws at my chest with icy fingers.

He halts and the silence is somehow worse. It takes my breath away. My chest constricts and it’s much harder to inhale than it should be.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he growls, voice deep as the caverns we’re trapped in.

“No kidding,” I murmur.

“I came for you,” he says, voice scraping raw across my skin, like he’s confessing a sin he can’t take back.

His eyes burn into mine, fierce, almost angry, like he’s daring me to doubt him.

My breath catches. My knees nearly go with it.

I blink. He’d said that before but I thought I must not have heard him right. Why would he come for me? I’ve seen him around, but it’s not like I know him and he doesn’t know me. There were five of us human females who agreed to come on this mission for Rosalind. Maybe he means one of them? If so I’m no help because I don’t know where they are. I hope, almost beyond any reason, that they are okay. I swallow, shake my head, then push to my feet.

“What?” I ask, voice rasping.

I grab onto the bars and pull myself up so I can peer out the barred window. His eyes burn from across the hall. The flickering light of the torch reflects off his scales and horns.

“You,” he repeats, his own voice hoarse. “I came for you.”

“Why?” I ask, confusion mixing with my speeding heart.

My arms tremble and I can’t hold myself up any longer. I drop and my ankle throbs, less than it has been. The door is as smooth as the stone floor. It feels like wood, but wood is almost as rare on Tajss as water so I doubt it’s really wood. Probably something else.

That’s right. Think about the door, Elara. Smart. Never mind what the Zmaj said. That’s not nearly as important as what the fuck this door is made of.

“You know,” his deep voice fills my cell, bouncing off the stone walls. “I’ve been watching you, Elara,” he admits. “When some of the other females escaped these animals… the stories they told…”

His voice is low, controlled, but there’s something wild beneath it.