Page 29

Nala

I managed to get a little bit of sleep for what little was left of the night, probably no more than a few short hours.

When light began to pierce the hold more determinedly through the cracked wall, people started to stir.

My wrist ached badly—throbbing, pulsing—and the pain radiated down to my fingers and up my arm.

I didn’t want to complain, especially since I’d had it much better than the other women here so far, but I was concerned enough to ask Jolene if I needed to worry.

Her expression was solemn but grim. “I don’t know.

You need better aid than I can give you with these supplies.

You’ll need to hope the Krektar take pity.

” We both knew how unlikely that was, but there was no point in saying so.

We also did not mention the possibility of escape or rescue, because I did not think our odds were good there either.

Jolene probably had no hope for outside help at all.

Truth was, I didn’t hold much hope for that either, not if Artek was dead.

The tight feeling in my chest grew worse, a sob that was stuck.

Tears wanted to spill but couldn’t, because I wouldn’t show that kind of weakness and because it would be absolutely pointless to waste my energy that way.

Not going there. Artek was alive, and if that matebond the girls from Haven had talked about was real, he’d come for me, no matter what.

So I had to be ready, and that started with getting a weapon.

I needed to dig around in my considerable bank of useless facts and come up with something I could use in this situation.

What was the point of always being curious and having an eclectic taste in reading if I couldn’t find one useful fact right now?

“Did you make that sling yourself?” I asked Jasmine quietly—the woman with the bright pink streak in her hair.

She and Jolene appeared to be the de facto leaders of the group of about forty women who had banded together for protection.

If the circumstances were different, I might have had a silent little chuckle at the fact that both their names started with a J, but this was too dire to really laugh about anything.

In the daylight, the hold was much worse than at night, and that was saying something, because all those shadowy figures last night had certainly scared the hell out of me.

Jolene was fussing over several sick or wounded girls, casualties of the rough treatment the Krektar apparently gave them while forcing them to work.

So it was Jasmine who sat next to me, a sling in her hands, her eyes watchful as the men milled about the hold.

“Yes, I used to be a wilderness guide. I knew how to make one, and I taught the others.” She didn’t need any further prompting for an explanation to follow, for which I was grateful.

It required sacrificing a portion of fabric from the gray shirt I wore beneath my leather coat, but that was not as heavy a sacrifice as it had been for the other ladies.

Jasmine whispered assurances to me as she showed me how to twist and tie the fabric for the best shape.

“Don’t worry about aim so much as force and a general direction.

When it’s all of us together, getting pelted by dozens of rocks seems to be good enough.

” She nodded her chin at the handful of women with slings, who stood around the perimeter of our little corner in the hold.

They held their slings at the ready, and it was keeping the rudely staring, agitated mass of men at bay.

How long would that work? They would start picking at us if they wanted to, and some of them definitely did.

Outnumbered five to one by my quick estimation, our odds remained very precarious.

This was a volatile situation, ready to explode.

If I wanted anyone here to stand a chance—including myself—we had to act soon.

Everyone in the hold seemed to be on some kind of clock, or maybe something was being signaled near the cargo bay entrance.

Suddenly, all the milling men began to move that way.

I could not see if the door was open, but it had to be, because slowly, the crowd was getting smaller.

Around me, the small group of women also rose, and they closed ranks, gathering tightly together—those with slings and rocks on the outside—but we did not begin moving yet.

It wasn’t until the hold began to empty that I could see how many ladies there truly were.

We were left behind while the men were taken somewhere—presumably to be put to work.

The Dragnell was one of the last to leave, leaping from the stack of empty stasis pods he’d perched on all night.

He angled his wolfish snout our way, and I felt the piercing green of his eyes hit me.

Then he nodded, and Jolene nodded back, as if the two had some kind of understanding.

I had no clue what that was about until a handful of women crawled from between the stacks and hurried to join our little huddle.

With the Dragnell gone, the doors shut again, and we were left in a laden, grim silence.

Jolene and a handful of others were going around the hold, checking on the few women not part of our group.

Some of them did not appear to be in great shape; a few others seemed fine.

None of them appeared to welcome Jolene’s help, though, and they gathered in a much smaller, miserable-looking group.

I was getting anxious when nothing seemed to happen, but perhaps it hadn’t been as long as it seemed. My stomach was painfully empty, but I didn’t think I’d be getting breakfast any time soon. Nobody had been given food or water, this was worse than prison.

And then the Krektar came.

They barked out orders and cracked whips, but it was more for show.

Everyone rushed to obey, some stumbling in their haste to do so.

I went with the flow, hoping that seeing more of the ship would help me hatch an escape plan.

So far, I hadn’t seen enough to be entirely certain of the make and model of the ship, though I was certain this one had four holds.

If I could get to a working console, maybe I could get into their communication system and call that Levant Shaman.

He needed to look for Artek, to help him.

At the door, things had to funnel through a tight bottleneck, and I was forced to pass quite closely between two foul-smelling Krektar.

They leered down at all of us but paid me no special attention—at least, not at first. It wasn’t until I was through the door that things changed.

My makeshift sling was hidden in my coat pocket and currently useless without any rocks, but I tightened the fingers of my good hand around it reflexively when I came face-to-face with the Kertinal from yesterday.

He was leaning up against the wall across the hallway, and the violet light of the Serant sun was coming in from the open airlock the women were being herded out of.

The lines of red that bisected his dark skin like lightning bolts seemed to glow, as did his sharp eyes.

At his hip, his tail was flicking back and forth with restless motions, like a cat that was agitated.

I did not like the look in his eyes one bit, or the way they lit up when he saw me.

I knew there was absolutely no point in trying to pretend I didn’t know he wanted me.

After all, he had told me we’d talk again after I’d had a night to think on it in the hold.

I guess I hadn’t expected him to come for me himself, or so quickly.

Straightening my shoulders, I lifted my chin and met his eyes squarely, trying to act like I wasn’t terrified at all.

Then I stepped around the woman next to me and began to approach him.

Someone hissed a warning—a “What are you doing?!”—but I ignored it. The Kertinal straightened away from the wall, its tail whipping toward me and curling around my good wrist, peeking out at the edge of my pocket.

His eyes gleamed, and I felt pinned beneath them, trapped, hunted.

He seemed to see everything, taking in my appearance with a quick glance: from my bedraggled, wrinkled clothes to the improvised splint and bandage around my broken wrist. His gaze flicked over my tangled hair, then returned to my hand, where the bruised fingers poking from beneath the bandage were an alarming shade of purple.

He didn’t say a word, just started walking.

The tug of his tail made me fall into step behind him.

There was no Krektar escort to accompany us; they were all focused on leading the women out of the ship behind us.

Those were only a handful, with watchful eyes and their rifles at the ready.

The rest must all be out hunting or supervising their male labor force.

Once we turned the corner, I could no longer hear the shuffle of footsteps, and it became dark and gloomy.

Only a handful of lights were on, their red glow leading the way like little beacons.

I hadn’t noticed the slipping of his knife-tipped tail until it was suddenly gone, and his pace slowed just enough for me to feel like he was inviting me to walk at his side.

His head was tilted down and angled so I could see one red eye peering at me from his dark face.

“How was the night?” he asked, his deep voice a dual bass that vibrated with sub-harmonics.

It felt like it rattled inside my chest.