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Rosalind inhales deeply, holds it, then lets it out slowly.

“I respect your desires,” she says. “The three of us want to take care of our people. My mate, Visidion, wants the same too and he speaks for most of the surface Zmaj that came with us, but not all. The rest are more of a fractured alliance, following as long as they can be brought to understanding.”

“I did not realize that,” I say.

She gives a tight, almost grim smile.

“I do not like to reveal too much too fast,” she says. “I am sure you understand.”

I nod and though I do not let my concerns show on my face, it does create a worry. I thought the surface Zmaj, as a whole, were united. The brothers had told me that there were surface Zmaj among the ones we’ve been warring with for generations, but I did not have them separated as a distinct group, much less finding out there are further breakdowns within their ranks.

This could either become a problem or, possibly, an opportunity — if I cannot push an alliance through with Rosalind and the Al’fa.

“I understand,” I say. “Thank you for the trust.”

Rosalind gives a half-laugh, half snort.

“Queen Rani,” she says and I meet her eyes, “I am not a fool. I know you well enough now, I think, to realize you are already calculating how to use this to the benefit of your people. If we are to form an alliance then let us form one based on honesty.”

I pause, debating how to best answer. It seems to me there are two clear paths forward, one in which I continue playing a game of innuendo and possibilities, and one in which I offer trust. If trust is what I seek, then if I do not offer it, how can I expect it back?

“Agreed,” I say. “You are correct, but I am truthful in that I see, now at least, that there is no hope for the future if this war continues. That is even if we set aside whether or not he manages to awaken the Paluga, which I pray he does not.”

“You believe it is real?” she asks, her eyes narrowing and studying me for every reaction.

“I do. Very much. You may see it as myth, but the histories of my people, oral and carved into our mudrosti tell of it. At the end of each world the Paluga awakens. It is a catalyst for the ending and the beginning.”

“Mudrosti?”

My smile is grim. She is sharp, latching onto every clue I give. I must watch my words more carefully when dealing with her. Trust must be offered and earned.

“Mudrosti is a tradition of my people. Each of us carves the events of our lives onto a piece of wood then, at our deaths, they are collected and added to the halls of memory. An ongoing, living history for us to learn from.”

Rosalind nods then runs her hands through her hair and sighs.

“That sounds beautiful. My own people used to have methods of storing our histories. Written, but all that was lost when we crashed onto Tajss.”

“I am sorry for your loss,” I say.

“It is what is,” she says with a shrug. “I cannot change the past and my focus is on the future. “To that end, what would you ask of me in this newly forming alliance of ours?”

“The Al’fa,” I say. “He is… mercurial. Smart, strong, but I have been unable to get him to commit. Every day that passes puts us at greater risk. Risk that the Shaman will succeed in awakening the Paluga. I know there is a resistance in the City that is loyal to me, but how long can they avoid being wiped out by the Shaman’s forces? We need to act. Sooner than later.”

Rosalind nods along then remains silent when I finish. She purses her lips, recrosses her arms over her chest, and her fingers drum.

“You want me to pressure Drogor,” she says at last. It is not a question, and I do not pretend to deny it.

“Drogor is his second. He holds sway over the Al’fa. If he believes an alliance is of the greatest benefit, he will push the Al’fa to accept it.”

Rosalind exhales, glancing toward the fire. For a long moment, she says nothing. Then, softly, she murmurs, “You assume I can manipulate Drogor so easily.”

“Can you not?” I ask, watching her closely.

She tilts her head, considering. When she finally speaks, her voice is quiet but firm.

“Drogor acts on his own. He is new to my group, having only joined us in the past solar year. There is no mistaking he is different than the rest, the experiments that were done on him left him changed. His thinking is different than the other Zmaj. He values strength, stability, and his treasure. I can nudge him toward our side, but it will require more than words.”

“What does he want most?” I nod, the wheels already turning.