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I tugged Nala more tightly against my side, worried for her safety.

We shouldn’t have gotten this close, that much was clear.

But the village had seemed so quiet, it had lulled me into thinking it was safe.

This male could decide to kill or capture Nala on a whim, especially if he was vying for power in the Clan, and mating the future Queen would ensure both her and his position.

What better way to earn goodwill with the rest of the Clan than by bringing home a trophy like Nala?

As a neutral party between all Clans, I’d never felt hostility aimed my way or felt any myself.

Today was different. Reshar did not appear happy about visitors or about seeing a human this close to camp.

I felt a wave of possessive, protective aggression myself, and my scales rose along my body; my muscles flushed with strength as battle-readiness filled me.

The glow of my sigils was unmistakable as well, and the sharp blue eyes locked onto them before appraising Nala’s pale face.

He wasn’t alone either, and I recognized the two who accompanied him.

Rossh and Zeti were both scouts and well-acquainted—even friends—with Khawla.

That made me breathe easier, as neither male was hot-tempered and both were more inclined to follow the lead of their Master Scout than a former prince.

“Khawla,” Reshar said, and then he dipped into a polite bow, his chin horn brushing his throat.

“Esteemed Shaman,” he added, and when he straightened, his cunning eyes lingered on Nala, something moving in that head of his that I could not decipher.

Reshar had always been more conniving than his brother, but I’d gotten the impression over the years that he and Zathar were close.

Now, I hoped that I could rely on that relationship to keep the male from harming Nala, but I didn’t trust him.

“What’s going on in the village? Are my younglings safe?

” Khawla asked, heaving himself from the hovering sled with a groan.

He swayed as he got upright. Zeti hurried to his side, slipping his arm over Khawla’s shoulder to support the male.

Khawla did not appear to like that, but the younger male just grinned and kept going.

Reshar answered, his gaze turning to the village now, and to the shimmering silver pieces of ship hull that had made a crater in the nearby hill.

“Your young are safe; they are with your brother. Any word of the females who went to challenge Sazzie?” There was a potent silence for a moment, and when Reshar’s eyes shimmered with some powerful emotion, I knew what he really wanted to know: Did Sazzie live?

She was his younger sister, after all, maybe he cared about her fate.

Khawla remained silent, and maybe that was because he didn’t know.

He had never asked me when he woke, and I’d never volunteered the information, far too occupied with my Nala.

I squeezed her more tightly against my side, my eyes briefly flying to her face to gauge her mood.

She was tense, quiet, but there was no fear-scent.

“Sazzie has chosen to step aside as Queen. She has taken a human mate and gone to live with Zathar at Haven,” I said, answering Reshar.

“Of the females who went to challenge her, none survived.” That made all three males hiss with shock.

Then Rossh and Zeti quickly bowed their heads and tapped their chests with a fist—a sign of respect for Khawla’s loss, as they knew that meant he’d lost his mate.

Adding my final bit of news, I explained that it had not been Sazzie who had killed her challengers, but an attack from Bitter Storm warriors that had left them all dead.

Khawla was the only survivor. Their fury at this was intense, and I did not blame them.

Less than a year ago, the red Naga had waged war on Thunder Rock’s village, right here, on this very hillside.

The losses on both sides had been substantial.

The hatred for their technology-shunning neighbor was absolute.

Reshar rose on his tail, slamming his spear shaft against his open palm with a resounding thud before jabbing the butt of the spear into the ground with a growl.

“Unacceptable! How much more must they take from us?” Zeti and Rossh seemed to vehemently agree, their scales rattling along their spines, their spears lifted to the sky.

Zeti even roared something about avenging the death of Khawla’s mate.

I pushed Nala behind me, my hand sliding to my hip, where I’d tucked a knife into my sash.

This much aggression was volatile. Thunder Rock was a storm brewing, waiting for that crash of a thunderbolt to ignite the flames.

The sight of my mate could be it, especially if one of the females fighting for the title of Queen saw her.

We had to get out of here, and my duty had been fulfilled; Khawla had made it safely to his home—or close enough that he’d make it with the help of his Clan mates.

“Come,” I murmured to Nala, turning us slowly, though never so that my back was to the posturing blue Naga.

Khawla was the one shushing them, her hand slashing through the air, but Reshar had the other two thoroughly riled.

“We will leave them to it and return home,” I told her, my tail already lifting her so I could place her on the sled that the injured male had just vacated.

We’d make much better time that way, and I could tell she was rattled by the display, though still not quite scared. She was tough.

“Forget about Bitter Storm,” Khawla hissed when Reshar’s growl died out.

“Tell me what happens in the village.” His words were sharp and commanding, and they demanded instant respect.

“Tell me what the blazing stars that is.” He pointed a clawed finger at the crater and wreckage near town.

A silence that was deep and stunned settled over our small group, and I winced, because that was yet another thing I’d forgotten to mention to Khawla.

He turned his gaze on me, sharp, angry. The scales, with their dull surface, had darkened even further beneath his eyes and along his cheekbones, his chin horn jutting sharply my way.

Utter disrespect, but I didn’t blame him; he’d had one surprise after the other ever since waking in my care.

He deserved a little leeway for not commenting on my mate or showing her any interest—or hostility.

The same could not be said of the other three, who kept staring at her when they thought I wasn’t looking.

It was Nala who answered, her voice bright and clear in the crisp air.

“That must be part of the ship I arrived on. Looks like a piece of a long hauler, a cargo ship. That, if I’m not mistaken, is a piece of a cargo hatch.

” I knew the other three could not understand a word she said; they had no translator implants like I did, and they were not mated to humans either.

When everyone stared at her, she added more firmly in my direction, “We should inspect it. Maybe it will tell us who was in charge, how many were aboard.”

Those were questions we very much wanted answers to, but there was no way I’d take her closer to town.

I shook my head firmly, then hissed at Khawla when he touched my shoulder with a hand and asked me what she had said.

No. Just no. I was taking her home right this instant, where I knew she’d be safe.