11. Rani
11
RANI
“Q ueen, we cannot trust him,” Khiara says.
“I know,” I murmur, the words bitter on my tongue.
Khiara falls silent as I lead us through the dimly lit halls toward the Al’fa’s quarters. The corridors, usually bustling with Zmaj and humans alike, are eerily empty. Usually, they bustle with Zmaj and humans alike, handling the daily workings of the compound.
“Why?” Dilacs asks as I step into the antechamber of the Al’fa’s room.
Even the desk—usually staffed by a human clerk—stands abandoned. A thick leather curtain seals off the inner chamber, heavy and unmoving, like a sentinel guarding the secrets within. I stare at it, half-expecting it to whisper secrets if I wait long enough. It doesn’t, of course, but the moment gives me a chance to collect my thoughts.
“I understand how you both feel,” I say, turning to face the brothers. “Believe me, I feel the same. You are both warriors and have pushed this down for so long you may not recognize it, but I do. We feel fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of betrayal. Fear of failure. I feel it burning in my blood—and I know you do too.”
“Hmm,” Khiara murmurs, stroking his thin beard. Dilacs opens his mouth to protest, but his brother stops him with a glance.
“Fear is natural,” I continue. “It is right. We should be afraid. The fate of our species rests in our hands.” I pause, dropping my gaze, cold racing over my skin, my stomach knotting painfully. “But we are Urr’ki. We fight. We survive. We do not give up.”
As one, the brothers slam their fists against their breastplates, the sound sharp as a battle cry, saluting my words. The admiration burning in their eyes is as sweet as oxygen. I drink it in, stoking my own fires. They bow and I dip my head in acknowledgment. Silently they move to either side of the door which I turn to face.
I step forward. Dilacs lifts the leather curtain, holding it aside. Torchlight slides across the stone floor, slipping free of the confining leather. I give him a smile and duck through, entering the Al’fa’s realm. Here he has the home advantage, but I am Queen of the Urr’ki, I will face my opponent and I will get what I want. What I must have. This alliance cannot fail.
The leather falls with a rasp, closing the space. The air is thick with testosterone, its musk mixing with the pitch of the burning torches, but weaving in with those two dominant smells is something sweeter that reminds me of a pungent fruit.
The Al’fa is on the far side of the table that holds the model of his compound. He leans over the table, both hands on the edge as he studies something. He doesn’t look up at my entrance. I wait, knowing this too is part of the game. He doesn’t give me the respect of acknowledging me first, expecting me to speak. This is a game I will win.
I move closer without a sound, studying the model alongside him. I clasp my hands in front of me, shoulders squared, head held high—even as I bend to see. The scale and details of the model are impressive. I have nothing to compare.
Had. Not have. Everything I once had—the city, the power—stolen by the Shaman. Now this Zmaj is my one, best hope.
“Perhaps,” he murmurs, breaking the silence at last. “you are more dangerous than I thought.”
For the first time, the sands shift beneath my feet—not pulling me down, but lifting me higher.
“I am but what I am,” I say softly.
He stares across the table with a calculating look. I wonder if he’s changing his initial thoughts about me. More, I wonder why it matters. That’s something I can’t put my finger on because as many times as I’ve negotiated deals, not once in my life has it ever felt like this. Probably it’s the stakes. Never before was the future of all my people on the line the way it is now. That must be it.
“So I see,” he says, blinking slowly.
Those eyes…
I smile, keeping it to a carefully controlled, small smile. I do not want to give too much assent to his gentle flattery, just enough that he will continue. Here, alone, he is much less bluster and bravado. I sense that we might, at last, have a real conversation if I avoid pushing him back to his alpha facade.
“You wished to see me?” I ask.
His eyes narrow knitting his brow. It pulls his horns down making them catch the torchlight and glint distractingly. He frowns, his lips parting as if he’s going to speak, then closing again. He turns his head and looks at the model then back to me.
“Come,” he says, turning and walking towards a door at the rear of the chamber. I hesitate, heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped sismis. I have never gone beyond this room and if I follow him, I will be cut off from the brothers. I do not think that the Al’fa means me harm, but thinking such and ignoring the possibility are nowhere near the same. He realizes I’m not with him when he reaches the door, one hand gripping the leather. He looks over his shoulder but there is no anger on his face, only understanding. “Please.”
I hesitate a moment longer. This is the moment I must choose, but in truth I have nothing to lose. The Shaman will destroy my people if I don’t stop him and time is running out. Standing here stuck in indecision, afraid to go forward will not save them. The only chance I have is the Al’fa. Seeing it like this, there is no choice at all. I nod and follow in his wake.
A short hallway stretches ahead, leading to another door. One torch burns, throwing long shadows across the rough-hewn walls. The Al’fa lifts the next door, stepping aside and gesturing for me to enter first. My pulse hammers in my ears. Still, I step under his arm and into the room.
The chamber is spartan yet dignified, with stone furniture draped in thick furs and heavy, woven textiles. A faint scent of leather and smoke lingers in the warm air. He enters and drops the door, turning to face me as he crosses his arms.
“You surprised me,” he says, his voice deep, but somehow soft.
I do not reply immediately. The adrenaline still lingers beneath my skin, but I will not let him see how deeply my hands wish to tremble.
“I knew I could not match Hakti in strength,” I say finally, voice quiet. “I chose where I could win.”
“And so you did. Clever,” he says as his lips quirk in amusement.
The compliment is unexpected and I hate the way my heart beats faster. He studies me in silence and the weight of his gaze unsettles me. I’ve stood before enemies and allies alike, but this feels different. There is no mockery in his appraisal, only open curiosity.
“Why?” he asks suddenly.
“Why?” I ask, though I know very well what he means. How could I not?
“You ask for more than help. More than alliance against a common enemy. Why? Why seek peace now?”
“Because none of our people will survive what comes next without it.”
His eyes narrow, considering. I sense the warrior in him weighing every word.
“And what do you think comes next, Urr’ki Queen?”
I take a breath, knowing I gamble every time I speak.
“The Paluga already stirs beneath our feet. The quakes are proof enough of that. The Shaman, if not stopped, will awaken it. When it does, the surface will be the only refuge. We will need each other.”
He remains silent, but I sense the flicker of something, acknowledgment, perhaps.
“You believe the old stories?” he asks, voice quieter.
“I have seen the signs.”
We stand in silence, the warmth of the chamber pressing in. He steps closer, enough that I feel how cool he is, as all Zmaj are. Cold-blooded and adapted to the surface of Tajss. Which makes me wonder how my people fair on a return to the surface? We have lived underground for so many generations, we might no longer be adapted to it.
“You are not what I expected,” he says.
Nor are you. But I do not speak, only nod, keeping my composure.
“Stay,” he says, the word hanging between us—less a command than a promise. “Tonight, you are neither enemy nor ally. You are my guest.” I hesitate and my confusion must be on my face despite years of training to keep my emotions from showing. “You have earned that much.”
The walls I’ve built around myself shudder but do not fall.
“Very well.”
He gestures to a stone bench draped in furs. As I sit, I feel his gaze linger on me, thoughtful. Perhaps, I dare to think, the sands truly are shifting.