Page 42 of Across the Stars (Cosmic Threads of Fate #1)
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
MAE
Mae watched as Oekan and Xarntu argued, their voices rising and falling in a rapid exchange. The words tumbled over each other, sharp and tangled, and all she could make out was her own name.
She froze, feeling out of place, stomach knotting. Were they arguing about her? Had she done something wrong?
The tension between them was thick, pressing down on the training ground.
Xarntu—normally calm and composed—looked rattled, her eyes flashing with anger as Oekan hissed inches from her face.
Mae’s unease grew. Something serious had sparked this fight, something strong enough to shake even Xarntu’s control.
Teachers hurried their students to the far edges, shielding them from the confrontation. Mae’s chest tightened at the fear in the children’s wide eyes. The tree’s harmony fractured here, splintered by anger.
Her hand dropped instinctively to her dagger. If she had to defend herself, or anyone else, she would.
The moment snapped—Oekan shoved Xarntu and swung his knife. The blade kissed her cheek, leaving a line of blood. Before Mae could move, his focus whipped to her.
He lunged.
Mae ducked, heart slamming, the air splitting beside her. Training surged up through her panic. She drew her dagger and backed away, meeting him blow for blow. Gasps rippled through the crowd as steel clashed.
Her body moved on instinct, each dodge sharp, each strike quick. Adrenaline poured through her, a wild, pulsing rush.
But Oekan’s rage fueled him. His strikes came faster, heavier, relentless. Mae fell back step by step, her chest heaving, her arm aching under the weight of parries. Her breath tore in ragged bursts—she was losing ground.
Then Xarntu was there, blade flashing. Together they pressed him, their movements weaving into one rhythm, driving him back.
Mae sprang, pushing hard from the ground, curling into herself as his knife sliced past her neck. The blade whispered through the air with a deadly snick.
With a feral scream, she crashed into him, the impact thundering through her bones. Dirt skidded under her feet as she drove him down, wrapping herself around him, pinning him to the ground.
They grappled, arms and legs flailing. He feinted, spun—suddenly she was beneath him, his elbow cracking against her forehead. Pain burst white behind her eyes.
Her breath came harsh as his weight pinned her down. She twisted, clawed, shoved at his horns with all her strength. Nothing. He held her tighter.
“No,” she snarled, chest heaving against his. She bucked and writhed, but he only pressed her harder into the ground.
And then—Watai.
Mae’s vision cleared just enough to see him above them, blade poised at Oekan’s throat. The fury in his eyes burned, a fire of protectiveness and rage. His growl rumbled low, primal, vibrating through the air. His lips peeled back, baring long canines, the sound as much a promise as a warning.
“Nya.”