Chapter 17

I've barely slept when I jerk awake. My neck pops loud and my head flashes with white light.

"Ow," I groan, rubbing the back of my neck as I sit up.

"Are you okay?" Dilacs asks.

I shield my eyes from the ambient light that seems to be trying to sear my brain from raw to well-done and blink several times to clear my vision. The pain eases and as it does my sight returns to focus. Dilacs is sitting opposite me, leaning forward, his hand hovering over my knee.

Touch me. Please. Just that little bit. I need the reassurance.

But he doesn't do that, instead he pulls his hand back, his eyes darting to the side. Then I hear a dish clatter and realize that's what woke me up. Moving slowly to avoid a repeat cracking of the crick in my neck I turn enough to see Khiara in the kitchen, bustling and working as if nothing is wrong.

Still moving slow I rub the sore muscles of my shoulders and neck as I twist back to Dilacs. I arch a questioning eyebrow and he answers with a minute shake of his head. I roll my neck then my shoulders, progressively working out the stiffness.

"I'm, uhm, fine," I answer at last. "Rough night."

My eyes feel puffy and so do my cheeks. I don't think I slept more than an hour at a stretch all night. Khiara gave me the couch while taking the chair opposite, but I couldn't get comfortable no matter what I tried. Partly the physics of a piece of furniture made for someone significantly bigger and taller than me and in part worry.

And now my worries are here. Ready to be faced yet again. Will they hate me? Turn me over to my death? Heh, I can think that so lightly only because I truly don't think they will. I have to believe that. Believe that they care as much about me as I do about them.

"You?" I ask, Dilacs.

He shrugs and grunts, which is about what I expected. A dissonant noise comes from behind and I jump to figure out what it is and more how to make it stop as it feels an awful lot like someone is shoving nails into my already aching head.

It's Khiara. He's humming, whistling, singing some kind of cacophony of the three things that sounds like horrible screeching. My mouth drops open in surprise and I look back to Dilacs who is chuckling.

"Not helping," I whisper and he laughs harder, raising one hand with a finger up between us. I return my attention to the kitchen. "You, uhm, okay there Khiara?"

He turns around and I snort. I don't mean to. It slips out before I can stop it. The entire scene is so incongruous after a night of not nearly enough sleep. I worried all night, playing out hundreds of possible scenarios but not in my wildest dreams did I ever come up with this one.

Khiara is wearing an apron. Well enough, but there are frills on the straps. He has what looks like flour splotches on his chest and cheek. One hand has a rolling pin looking tool and the other is holding a black pot. He is frowning and looks more than a little annoyed.

"What? Why do you make that noise?" he asks.

"Nothing," I say, pushing down as hard as I can on the laughter that is trying to break free. "Did you," a snort slips, damn it, "need help?"

"You did it again," he says.

I can't hold it in. I snort again and then a chuckle follows it. I sink below the edge of the couch, unable to look at him any longer. Dilacs chuckles and stands. He rolls his eyes at me as he walks past.

"Let me help brother," Dilacs offers as he enters the kitchen.

"Fine," Khiara grunts, turning back around.

They talk in their own language, and it feels, for all that's happened, as if everything is back to normal. I stand up and stretch every which way I can, still trying to work out the kinks. The Urr'ki version of a couch is as hard as they are as a people. Not comfortable sleeping at all.

I walk into the kitchen and take my seat at the table. I know from experience that there is nothing I can do to help with the fixing of food. Khiara is something of a prima donna about his food prep and it almost always ends up with him and Dilacs having an argument.

So I watch. And wait. They debate, argue lightly, and it feels like everything is okay. The smells are amazing and my stomach grumbles. They finish the food, fix up the plates, then set them down on the table.

"Thank you," I say. "It smells amazing."

"Huh," Khiara grunts, then begins shoveling his meal into his mouth.

I eat at my own much more sedately pace. Dilacs pushes his food around on the table not really eating much. A sense of trepidation is building in time with the food disappearing from Khiara's plate.

Is he okay now? Was he just drunk? Is he mad at me? Did he come up with some conclusion? I'm waiting for a shoe to drop, knowing it's coming, but not sure when. Or sure if that shoe isn't going to come flying out of the dark and whack me in the face.

Khiara finishes and pushes his plate forward. I don't have much appetite, so I stack his plate with mine and take them to the cleaning station. This is how they both let me help out which I'm happy to do. They talk more in their language, softly, while my back is turned. I can't understand them but it doesn't sound heated. Which is good, I think. I hope.

I finish putting away the dishes and turn back to face them. Khiara is leaning on the table staring straight ahead. Dilacs is watching me only in his peripheral, but I mouth at him asking if it's all okay. Instead of an answer he gives me a very unhelpful shrug.

"Well," I say, smacking my hands together. Sometimes the only thing to do is barrel forward and hope for the best. "What's the plan for today?"

Khiara clears his throat then scoots his chair back and half turns so I am in his line of sight. He crosses his massive arms over his chest and frowns.

"You believe this Rosalind?" he asks.

I purse my lips and give him the respect to think about it instead of giving a knee-jerk response. Do I? Why?

I do trust her. She's led my people since we crashed onto Tajss and while it definitely hasn't been a bed of roses, we've survived. Most of us have anyway. More, I think, than we would have if she wasn't in charge. The best proof of that is how badly Gershom's followers did under him when he rebelled against her. They ended up back in the fold too.

"I do," I say. "You don't know her, I get that. She's really smart and on our generation ship she was in charge of all our armed forces. She was the Lady General and she's led our people since we crashed."

Khiara looks over at his brother. Dilacs grunts. What is up with him and this being so damn unhelpful?

"I see," Khiara says.

"Look, I have to ask, are you okay? You drank, well it seemed like you drank, a lot. Do you feel all right?"

Dilacs snorts.

"Fine, why?" Khiara asks.

"Nothing, I just… is that an Urr'ki thing?"

"Is what an Urr'ki thing?" Khiara asks, looking from me to his brother.

"You're not…" I don't know a word in Zmaj for what I want to say. In Common we'd call it hungover, but the Zmaj doesn't have that word. "Having bad effects from the alcohol?"

"What, do I look like a lizard who can't hold my liquor?" he asks, clearly offended by my question. My cheeks burn hot and I really want to go hide somewhere.

"She's being kind Khiara," Dilacs says, helping at last.

Khiara smiles and laughs. "I know, I jest."

"Oh," I say, shaking my head. "Uh, oh, okay."

"I am fine, thank you," Khiara says. "But we have more important things to consider than my head."

"Yeah…" I say, trailing off.

"What are you thinking?" Dilacs asks. "You did not tell us much about what you found out yesterday."

"Heh," he says. "They are working to overthrow the Shaman. They have some resources, but mostly they are trying to find a workable plan. And the humans seem to be the key."

"Us?" I ask.

"Yes, you," he says.

I swallow as the weight settles onto my shoulders. It's heavy, but I got this, right? No. I most definitely do not ‘got' this. This sucks.

"What do they need us to do? Or, specifically, me?" I ask.

"Exactly the problem, no one knows," Khiara says. "Or so it seemed to me. I met them once, it's not like they'll give me their entire plan."

I nod as numbness creeps over my legs and arms.

"Is there another meeting?" Dilacs asks.

"Yeah," Khiara says. "They want to meet her."

"No," Dilacs says, too fast and too harsh.

"No?" Khiara asks, shifting his gaze to his brother. "Is there something I don't know? This is how we help."

"It's too dangerous," Dilacs says, backpedaling. I see it and there is no doubt in my mind that his brother does too. "The city is damaged, there was just a riot, how can we take her out into that?"

"There would be two of us," Khiara says, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

"And we were both there when the riot happened," Dilacs counters. "We barely got her away."

Khiara grunts, then shakes his head.

"I don't see a choice. We must do this, unless," he shifts his gaze to me. "You do not wish to help. I would understand that, but if you are willing… then I say we must."

Fuck. Great. Put it all on me. Thanks.

Of course I don't want to go. I don't know the resistance or how I'm supposed to help. I've barely been out into this city to begin with and the last time I didn't make a good impression. I'd greatly prefer to stay here, safe.

With Dilacs. In his arms. Safe. Warm. Fulfilled.

But I didn't sign up to be safe. I knew the risks when I agreed to come. And the safety of this home is temporary. It always has been and we all three know it. It's only a matter of time until the Maulavi return and who knows if next time won't be the last time.

I tear my eyes off of Dilacs's and meet Khiara. Steeling my nerves I nod.

"Yes," I agree. "I'll go. I think we must."