Page 6

Chapter Six

Z exx slipped from the tent, his feet silent on the sand despite his inner turmoil. The sight of Linnea curled under the blanket, her dark hair spilled across the furs and her skin glowing in the moonlight that filtered through the opening in the top of the tent, had become too much. His chest was tight with emotions he refused to name.

The three moons were glowing orbs embedded in the velvet sky, casting silvery light across the still surface of the oasis pond. Wind rustled through the palm fronds overhead, a gentle murmuring that mixed with the occasional braying of jebels from their pens. The thick-furred beasts were restless tonight, perhaps sensing the charge in the air that had nothing to do with the dying celebration.

He made his way to the communal fire pit where embers still glowed orange, sending thin tendrils of smoke curling into the night air. The scent of woodsmoke mixed with the sweeter aromas of night-blooming flowers that grew wild around the water's edge.

An abandoned wineskin caught his eye, and he snatched it up, taking a long pull. The rich liquid spread warmth through his chest, though it couldn't compare to the heat of Linnea's touch.

"Can't sleep?"

Zexx turned to find Ruxen approaching, the dark slashes of his tribal marks standing out against his golden skin in the dim light. Like all the Dothveks, he wore only leather pants, leaving his battle-hardened chest bare to the cool night air. They'd earned their warrior marks together, fighting side by side since they were boys testing their first blades.

"Just needed air." He offered the smooth wineskin.

Ruxen accepted it, his thoughts brushing against Zexx's mind with familiar ease. Something troubles you, brother.

"The Crestek chancellor's presence has us all on edge," Ruxen said aloud, though his mental probe went deeper, seeking the source of Zexx's disquiet.

Zexx strengthened his mental shields, blocking the connection before his friend could sense the truth of what had transpired in Linnea's tent. His hands fisted at his sides as he remembered the silk of her skin beneath his palms. "She's not what I expected."

"No?" Ruxen settled onto one of the logs arranged around the fire pit, moonlight gleaming on the ridged muscles of his shoulders. "And what did you expect from Karv’s sister?"

“I didn’t know if she would be like him or like the other brother,” Zexx admitted.

“Riz?” Ruxen spat out the name like a curse.

"She's nothing like him." The words came out more forcefully than Zexx had intended. "She truly wants peace between our peoples."

"Peace?" Ruxen's laugh was bitter. "They've looked down on us from their city walls for generations. Called us barbarians. Savages." His disgust pulsed between them.

"Maybe we've been too focused on our differences." Zexx stared into the glowing embers, seeing Linnea's eyes flash with the same heat. "We came from the same ancestors, after all."

Ruxen's head snapped up, shock rippling through their mental connection. "Who are you and what have you done with my friend who used to say the only good Crestek was one face down in the sand?"

"Things change." Zexx took back the wineskin, using the motion to distance himself from his friend's probing thoughts. "Look at Karv. He survived the tahadu and became one of us."

"One warrior is different than trusting their leader." Ruxen's dark eyes narrowed. The firelight cast shadows across his sharp features, making him look fierce despite his relaxed posture. What aren't you telling me, brother?

Zexx thought of Linnea's fierce spirit, how she'd matched him passion for passion, strength for strength. How she'd felt in his arms—not delicate, but perfectly balanced to his own power. The way he’d been able to sense her emotions when he should not have.

But he couldn't let any of those memories leak through their bond. His friend would never understand how one night had shifted everything Zexx thought he knew about their peoples.

"Maybe I'm tired of holding onto old hatred," he said instead, carefully projecting calm certainty. "We're allies now."

"Since when are you the voice of reason?" Ruxen shook his head, his long black hair catching the moonlight. "Usually, I'm the one telling you to think before you act."

Zexx's lips quirked. "Then consider this me finally listening to your wisdom."

"Now I know something's wrong." Ruxen stood, his height matching Zexx's as he clapped him on the shoulder. Their mental connection flared at the contact, and Zexx caught a flash of genuine concern from his friend. "Whatever's got you questioning everything, just be careful. Some changes come at too high a price."

Trust me with your burden , Ruxen's thoughts whispered.

There is no burden, Zexx sent back, hating the lie even as he strengthened his mental walls. They'd never kept secrets from each other before, but this wasn't his secret alone to tell. He knew he would not be able to hide what had transpired in the tent for long. Nothing stayed secret in a village with fabric for walls, after all. But he could not betray Linnea’s trust so soon. Not when the scent of her lingered on his skin.

He watched his friend disappear into the darkness, guilt churning in his gut. Ruxen's soft footsteps in the sand faded, but his doubt lingered in the air like smoke from the dying fire.

Zexx touched a hand to his chest where he could still feel the echo of Linnea's heartbeat against his. One night, they'd agreed. No promises. No regrets. But already he knew that had been a lie.

He sank onto the log, taking another long drink of wine as he stared up at the dots of light scattered across the black sky. How had one woman managed to shake the foundations of everything he believed? And how was he supposed to go back to his normal life on the sands after knowing such perfect passion?

The jebels brayed again in their pens, and the wind picked up, making the palms creak overhead. Even the oasis itself seemed restless tonight, as if it sensed the shift in the air.

Zexx gave a rough shake of his head. One thing that would not change—she was leaving, and he was staying. There was nothing that could alter that fact.