Chapter 22

Aramon

Solear was vibrating in the navigational seat next to me, his feet jiggling against the deck with tension. I felt oddly calm in comparison, but maybe that was because he was drawing all that anxiety from me, taking it as his own. I wouldn’t put it past him, but I was too wrung out, too worried to sense it.

Asmoded placed his hand on my shoulder. “Almost there. We’ll find your human. Don’t you worry.” His low, sibilant voice was soothing, but his words made me twist in my seat in surprise. I thought Evie and I had kept her status as a body double and a human a secret, but it was clear now that Asmoded knew. I hadn’t told him, which left… I twisted to the side and gave Solear a glare, but my brother hunched his shoulders and kept his focus on the readings in front of him, the cable that plugged him into the navigational computer pinched between his shoulder and the side of his head.

“Don’t look at Solear like that, you hothead,” Asmoded said, and his hand held me a little tighter, squeezing to grab my attention. “I knew right away. Her scent. Besides, the illegal illusion device is clever, but it’s not good enough to fool Dravion’s machines.” So the ship’s doctor had known too, but neither my captain nor the doctor had decided to act on this information. They’d kept Evie’s secret. I knew they were good males, and that sealed it in my mind.

“Evie had no choice,” I growled defensively, though I saw no judgment on my captain’s face. He smiled—a tilt of his lips that revealed the sharp points of his fangs. It wasn’t a friendly smile; it was satisfied, victorious. I didn’t understand why he would look like that, but I didn’t care. All that mattered was that we found my mate as soon as possible.

“We will,” Asmoded agreed, and I realized I must have spoken those thoughts out loud. “Look, it’s there.” Solear drew my attention through our bond at the same time, and I forced myself to focus on the shuttle. It looked like any other stretch of the desert: dismally empty and barren—sand dunes and rock outcroppings, but not so much as a hint of vegetation, nor a hint of my mate.

Urgency pounded in my veins, drawing on my slow-beating heart and crackling along my skin like electricity. Something was wrong. Something was happening to Evie right now. It felt like she was dying, slipping from my grasp like grains of sand. My lip throbbed dully, as if I’d bitten it, but I couldn’t recall doing that. I hadn’t been struck in the face by the disguised Krektar either, so it could only have one source: Evie was hurt.

Despite seeing nothing at the location our tracker had led us to, we had no choice but to land and look for clues. I was thirsty as I stepped out of the ship, but that thirst rapidly transformed into a pounding headache as I followed my captain onto the sands. The Asrai were not desert dwellers like the majority of the Xurtal; we preferred temperate climates. Still, my armor kept my body at the perfect temperature, designed to work in space as well as protect me from fire. A little desert should have been nothing, but I was sweating and panting as I trudged after Asmoded.

His long, serpentine body had no issue with the loose sand. He slithered along it, eyes peeled to a handheld scanner, and in seconds, he’d located the right spot. With a few flicks of his tail, sand shifted and slid, and there it was: Evie’s suit. Even her boots lay in a pile that had been covered by the ever-shifting sand. The bastard that stole her had stripped her of every protection and any ability we had to track her.

I picked everything up, especially the boots, which I knew she treasured deeply. Pressing them tightly against my heaving, sweaty chest, I locked eyes with Asmoded and ignored how worried my captain looked. “We have to find her now. She’s dying. I can feel it.” I tapped my fist against the toe of the boot pressed to my heart, the sound echoing hollowly. “Heatstroke.”

Asmoded never questioned how I knew, neither did Solear. My brother was always silent, but he’d followed us down the ramp of the shuttle. Now he curled an arm around my shoulders, his hand tight as a vice. “We will find her,” he said with a snarl, his sharp teeth bared to the fierce glare of the sun. “Close your eyes. You know what to do.”

Ah, Solear, where would I be without you? I thought and of course, he was right there to catch that thought. Nowhere, bro, nowhere. It felt like my laugh was stuck in my chest, and my brain ached when I did as he suggested and closed my eyes to everything around me. The immense heat from before had faded, and now I was shivering with cold. I hooked into that cold, grabbed hold of it with my mind, and then I chased that vein of ice back to the source.

I had never done this before; it was an experience truly new to me, maybe even new to the Asrai as a whole. That could not stop me from doing it, from chasing that path with all my might, blazing through it with heat to combat the ice. I’d sensed her before and thought it was wishful thinking. Now I could not let any doubts hold me back: there was a bond, and I would find it, open it as wide as it would go. And then I’d find her .

***

Evie

The dye would not take. I thought that was hilarious and kept laughing like a maniac, much to the frustration of the guards and the poor, confused Princess Imala. She was a small, delicate woman with the face of a baby, no older than sixteen. I was starting to think that she had no power here and might be as scared as I was about her future. Okay, maybe she didn’t fear imminent death the way I did, but she was definitely not the one calling the shots, as she would have been back home.

“Please help me figure this out,” she hissed under her breath, her eyes darting fearfully to the pair of guards who remained. After my ice bath, they had not left. They’d dragged me from the cold water at some point, and I remained huddled on the mats like a drowned little Batan. My blouse clung to my skin, making the pale green fabric see-through and treating them to a view of my breasts. They kept staring, but I did not have it in me to care. All I could do was keep that light burning in my mind—the one that focused on all my feelings for Aramon. All my love for him, and hope that it called to him—hope that it was enough.

“Sorry, princess,” I drawled, flicking a still-wet hunk of hair out of my face. The green dye had stained my fingers, but it ran from my copper strands without affecting the color. Whatever the stuff was that had stripped the original dye from my hair, it was preventing new dye from taking. That was such a surprise, and I loved it—a fuck you to Pelarios and his nefarious plans. “Can’t help you. I have zero reason to even try.” When that made one of the guards glare, I stuck my tongue out at him, doing my very best to channel all of Aramon’s chaotic energy.

She sighed, her red eyes wide and fearful, but she seemed to conclude that there was no point in continuing to try. With resignation, she washed her latest attempt from my hair and skin. When she rose to her feet, her own demure white shift was splattered with green, but none of that green remained on me. She ignored the guards as she leaned forward and held out a hand, and I took it awkwardly with my still-bound ones, now tied at the front. With surprising strength for her small frame, she hauled me to my feet, then kicked off her slippers and nudged them at me. “Put those on, or you’ll slow us down.”

Nobody believed that, but the guards did not protest when I stepped into the slightly-too-small shoes. They would prevent further burns on my feet when we went outside; the young princess was very gracious in offering me that mercy. Her skin was tougher, more heat-resistant. She would not suffer burns from the sand the way I did. But for a princess to go barefoot? Pelarios and any of these Xurtal warriors would have a fit about it.

She must still have some respect and power here—more than I thought she did—because one of my guards ducked aside to halt a warrior for a few quickly whispered words. By the time we’d trekked from that smaller tent back toward Pelarios’s big central one, two things had happened: one, the young princess had been brought new shoes; and two, my see-through shirt had dried in the sun.

I was sensitive to the sun’s bright shine, my head aching if I peered too closely at the glowing orb. It was starting to dip toward the horizon; soon, night would fall, and with it, the intense cold of a desert night on Ov’Korad. If I remained dressed as flimsily as I was, I’d find myself dying of hypothermia next. How fun. Was it a record to suffer from both in a single day? Hot and cold.

Thinking of temperatures, I became aware of a blaze of warmth at the back of my skull, and I got lost in thought as I focused on that. Was it Aramon, or was it the mate bond? Many species talked of such a bond; it was never a tangible thing, it was the instant attraction that bloomed between two people. It was the promise of love, the promise of strong offspring. But, what if it could be more? What if Aramon really could find me with it?

Imala escorted me into the main tent as if we were gliding into a party at court, ready to dance all night and celebrate midsummer or the solstice—some of Xurtal’s most exalted happenings of the year. Only, I was dressed in rags, with still-drying hair and a split lip. I was walking to what could very well be my execution.

The tent was filled with a large table and chairs. A viewscreen had been hung from one of the tent walls, and Pelarios was pacing in front of it. “Ah, there you are,” he said when we ducked inside, but he halted abruptly, his expression turning sour with distaste. “Why is her hair not green? And where is the illusion device? We had extra contacts, too. She should be wearing those, Imala.” He paused, his expression growing even darker when the young woman did not cower as he expected her to. “I can still pick one of your sisters instead.”

The threat hung heavy in the air, and I could feel how the words struck Imala, like they were blows. Her lower lip trembled briefly before she got control of it, her expression turning cool and steely. I was impressed; Evadne didn’t have that kind of control at that age. She’d always been more temperamental and headstrong—more prone to gossip and flights of fancy than was supposedly appropriate for a princess. “They are not here, sir,” Imala said with perfect, calm diction. She managed to sound serene, with a kind, beatific smile.

Pelarios turned to his guard, angrily instructing them to locate what he needed. They ran out as if there were fire at their heels, but he seemed calmer when he turned back to focus on Imala and me. Maybe the young princess impressed him with her cool head and her perfect manners. I could see that.

“Yeah, I suppose there is a reason I picked you over Candala or Evrana,” Pelarios mused, confirming my suspicions. He intended to mate with or marry poor Imala once the dust settled on his coup—a way to legitimize his claim to the Xurtal throne.

“And the hair?” He flicked a claw at my wild red tangles with a curl to his mouth—not quite distaste, but coming close. It was obvious he had no patience to deal with any of these setbacks, but it was also obvious that he’d risen to the status of advisor for a reason. He knew how to roll with the punches, adapt on the fly, and his ambition clearly knew no bounds.

“The dye stripper that was used prevents new dye from taking. It is impossible, sir,” Imala said, her voice as serene as an angel. It was like she was sticking a dagger in his side when she smiled pleasantly, infuriating him without ever saying anything wrong. He knew it, she knew it, and I could see it in the glint in her ruby eyes. I needed to take a page from her book—channel that nasty, backstabbing side that was so appreciated by the royal Xurtal court.

“Fine, you are dismissed,” Pelarios grunted, waving a hand at her. She dipped into a bow, turned, and strode out of the tent. It felt a little like I’d lost my ally when she left, but that was stupid to think. I could not forget that Imala was probably going to do anything she could to ensure her survival. She’d shown kindness, but that did not mean she was on my side.

Alone with Pelarios, I waited because stalling for time was my best bet right now. It was tempting to jab at him, to hurl insults, but that might only accelerate the plans he had for me, which was the last thing I wanted. So I forced myself to stand tall, though my legs wanted to tremble; I was still cold after that ice bath, and now the coolness of the desert was creeping in.

As it turns out, his backup plan was a wig. They pulled it onto my head roughly, not bothering to properly secure it, but they needed my help with the contacts, which I could refuse. I fought with two guards, but my cold muscles were quickly sapped of strength. Pinned to the ground by one male, they tried to force open my eyes with little success. Pelarios stood over me, huffing in anger. I could not see it, but I knew he was pinching his mouth, frowning, and wearing the thunderous expression well-known to the court.

“Fine, no contacts, it’s time! At least tell me we can turn on the illusion?” That was when they put me through the humiliating process of yanking up my shirt to reveal my belly button—my very bare, piercingless belly button. I had never been happier than I was at that moment that I’d taken the horrible device out that morning. It was still in a pouch attached to the suit of armor, and that Kertinal hireling had tossed it into the sands far away from this camp.

Laughing in victory, I lay there on his soft rugs, pinned by two warriors. “You lose,” I said. “There’s no big reveal without that, is there, Pelarios? You fucking lose.” I cackled when he growled in fury and laughed even louder when he snapped at his guards to leave. Yeah, screw you. Sucks when you can’t do what you want, doesn’t it?

When the guards left, he turned on me, and everything became deadly quiet inside the tent. Still lying prone on the ground, my hands tied in front of me, I could see him round the table like a predator. His expression was cold as ice, his red eyes glowed like coals in his handsome, beautiful face, beneath perfect, thick black hair. It struck me how different yet similar he looked to Aramon—red eyes, red skin—but Pelarios was so handsome, so attractive. While Aramon looked ghoulish, with his sinister skull-like markings, he was nobody’s definition of handsome, but to me, he was.

Aramon’s scarlet eyes were warm and full of light, while Pelarios’s red orbs were cold and evil. There was darkness hiding behind that pretty facade, while Aramon was exactly what you got. Chaotic, a little morally skewed, but so loyal and sweet. I love you, Aramon , I thought as Pelarios pulled back his leg and kicked. I love you, crazy Asrai. Come for me.

The blow landed in my belly, and I did as I’d been taught to lessen its impact: rolling with the force and tightening my abs to protect my vulnerable organs. The second kick came faster, punctuated by a growl. I rolled and avoided it, coming up to my knees and catching a third with my bound hands. He did not expect that. When I twisted with all my strength, he flipped and thudded to the ground.

Rising to my feet, I stood over him and planted my foot on his throat. I’d lost the princess’s slipper in the scuffle, but I dug my heel in deep. “Fuck you, Pelarios. You’re not going to win. I’m going to expose you for the traitor you are!” My shout brought the guards back to the tent, but Pelarios moved faster.

Though spluttering through a bruised set of vocal cords—one of my signature moves—he grasped my ankle and tossed me to the ground without effort. I rolled again, tried to come up fighting, but he was faster, and now he wasn’t holding back. A blow landed on my face, sending me spinning, my vision bursting with black and white. And then he was on me: another kick to my belly, and then to my hip and my back. I coughed up blood all over his pretty carpets when he paused to growl at me.

“You are going to obey. You are going to admit to impersonating Evadne. You are going to tell them how you lied,” he said. Then, he turned to the viewscreen and tried to make a call. If that connection went through, he would reach Kalzudaud and the rest of the delegates. Would I be able to beg them for help? If I told them I was just a simple human Pelarios had kidnapped, would they believe me?

My body ached all over. I couldn’t take much more punishment than this. My ribs were cracked, and my hip ached so badly that I couldn’t move my right leg. The heat I felt in the back of my head could just mean I was about to pass out, but I did not want to believe that. I had to keep hoping.

The call did not connect, and Pelarios pulled on his long, thick braid in frustration. “Why is this not working? It should work!” He twisted to look at me, and I could only see him in a blurry, vague outline; my left eye had swollen shut. “What did you do?” The sound of an engine roaring interrupted his question, and he twisted to look at the guards hovering at the entrance, afraid to get closer and incur his wrath. “What is that?” They were only too happy to dart outside to investigate.

He stalked closer to me, dipping down to grab me by the hair and raise me off the rug. “Did you do this?” he demanded, and I shook my head. Sounds came from outside: the engine cutting off, followed by laser fire and the shouts of men. It sounded like a fight.

I wasn’t certain if I had anything to do with it, but as Pelarios raised a fist as though he was about to strike me, I could only grin. The heat at the back of my head was growing, like it was about to explode, rising like the sun, eclipsing everything. It filled my mind until all I could perceive was not Pelarios's treacherous face, but an overwhelming whiteness. Hello, my love. “What now?” Pelarios demanded at the same time.

I smiled. “Now, you die.”