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“There are no guarantees in war,” I say. “Only choices.”

Another heavy silence. Then he speaks.

“I will consider your words.”

It is not a yes. But it is not a no. It is something. I bow my head, hiding the relief threatening to show.

The Al’fa turns to his advisors, taking Rosalind in with his sweeping gaze.

“Leave us.” A hesitation, then they obey, filtering out. Rosalind stands, defiant, owning her space. She and the Al’fa stare at one another for a long moment before he slightly bows his head and speaks again. “Please. I would like a moment alone with her.”

Rosalind purses her lips then gives a sharp nod. She catches my eyes as she walks towards the door. I see support in her look and I am grateful for it. The door drops shut behind and her and I am alone with the Al’fa.

“You play a dangerous game,” he says.

“I play to win,” I answer.

A flicker of something in his gaze. Respect, perhaps. Or something more dangerous.

“Very well,” he says at last. “Bring me proof, Urr’ki Queen. Prove to me that your people will stand up for you. And then we will see where our paths lead.”

I incline my head, my heart pounding. I have bought myself a chance. Now, I must make sure I do not waste it.

18

ELARA

The walls press in around us, squeezing tighter with every step. The deeper we descend, the colder it becomes, the damp air clinging to my clothes, my skin, sinking deep into my bones. My fingers have gone stiff, and my breaths sound too loud in the stifling darkness. The only light comes from the flickering torch in Z’leni’s hand, casting wild, shifting shadows along the tunnel walls.

I don’t know how long we’ve been moving, but my legs burn and my ankle has been reduced to a dull, throbbing ache. The tunnel slopes downward, always downward, twisting and narrowing until I have to be careful not to scrape my shoulders along the rough stone. I glance back at Ryatuv. His broad frame barely fits, shoulders scraping the walls even when he turns sideways. It feels like the earth itself is swallowing us whole.

I hate this. The unknown. The dark. The silence.

Z’leni moves with certainty, his steps quick and deliberate. Ryatuv stays close behind me and though he is cool, his presence is a stark contrast to the chill pressing in from all sides. His tail brushes against my leg occasionally, a subconscious movement, maybe, or a silent reminder that he’s still there. But every time it happens, a fresh jolt of awareness shoots through me.

None of us speak. We walk in a silence that is only broken by the distant echoes of dripping water and the soft scrape of our feet against the stone. Then Ryatuv speaks.

“You never said how you know this path,” he says, his voice low and laced with suspicion.

“I know many things,” Z’leni says, not looking back.

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting,” Z’leni snaps without looking back.

Ryatuv’s tail twitches in irritation.

“Convenient,” he grumbles.

I glance between them, the air tightening until it feels like the tunnel itself might snap under the strain.

“Does it matter right now?” I ask.

Ryatuv doesn’t answer, but the way his jaw tightens makes it clear he’s not letting this go. Neither is Z’leni. But at least, for now, they seem willing to put survival over whatever pissing contest they’re gearing up for. I can only hope that lasts. Because if what Ryatuv said about this undercity is right, then bickering is going to be the least of our problems.

We round another bend, and the ground beneath us changes. The packed earth gives way to uneven stone, the rough-hewn walls shifting to something unnervingly smooth—carved rather than natural.

And then I see them.