Chapter 18 #2
Age had carved wisdom into every line of her face, etching experience into her features, yet she moved with the fluid certainty of someone who had never questioned her right to command.
Her skin was that same burnished bronze, but it held a quality that made my breath catch—a subtle luminescence, as if she'd swallowed starlight years ago and it now glowed beneath the surface of her flesh.
Sharp, severe cheekbones framed a face that was simultaneously beautiful and intimidating, her features possessing an almost blade-like precision. High forehead, strong jaw, lips that looked carved from stone.
Thick black braids cascaded past her waist, heavy and elaborate, and woven throughout were strands pulsing with soft blue and silver light in rhythmic patterns. A heartbeat made visible. Slower than the warriors'. More deliberate. More controlled.
Ancient.
Her eyes were black—not the deep brown that people sometimes called black, but true, absolute black from edge to edge. No white sclera, no distinction between iris and pupil. Just fathomless darkness, like staring into the space between stars, into the void itself.
Yet somehow those impossible eyes conveyed everything—intelligence, curiosity, judgment, power, and something else. Something that looked almost like compassion.
Intricate markings traced across her temples and down the column of her neck in precise geometric patterns, and I realized with a jolt that they weren't tattoos.
They existed beneath her skin, glowing softly, patterns that shifted subtly as she moved, reorganizing themselves into new configurations like living circuitry responding to her thoughts.
She studied me for a long moment, those black eyes taking in every detail—my disheveled appearance, my human fragility, my obvious desperation.
Then she spoke—and her voice was like wind through the trees, ancient and powerful and utterly alien.
But I understood her. Somehow her words made it through the translator implanted in my skull, converting the alien sounds into meaning.
"You are not the human female we gifted the stone."
My throat went dry, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth. "No. I'm not."
"Then how do you possess it?"
I pulled the stone from my pocket again, holding it up with both hands so she saw it clearly in the dim light, so there could be no mistake.
"The humans you gave this to—Nansar and his mate Chloe—they're friends.
" The words came out in a rush, tumbling over each other.
"Chloe gave this stone to a Vaktaire warrior named Ahrick before they left Palaydium.
Ahrick gave it to me. He told me if I ever needed help, I should bring it to the Welati. "
The elder's expression didn't change, but something shifted in the air—a subtle tension, like the moment before lightning strikes, like the world holding its breath.
"And you need help."
"Yes." My voice cracked painfully. "Ahrick is being held prisoner in Fange City. He's going to be executed at dawn. Day after tomorrow. Less than forty-eight hours from now." I had no idea to gauge how long I'd ridden Starfield. At least six hours, probably much more.
I took a shaking breath, forcing myself to continue despite the way my voice wanted to break completely.
"The man who's going to kill him—his name is Declan Hewes. He's a slaver. A monster. He's the same man who tried to hurt Chloe. The same man who held my siblings hostage to force me to work for him."
The markings beneath the elder's skin pulsed—a rapid, agitated pattern, faster than before.
She knew that name.
"Hewes controls Fange City?" Her voice had gone cold. Dangerous. Sharp enough to cut.
"Yes. He took over. The crime lord who ran the city before—Persico—he's been imprisoned. Hewes is in control now, and he's going to execute Ahrick publicly to prove his power."
"Why does he want to kill this Vaktaire?"
"Because Ahrick is a threat." The words tasted like ash, like failure. "And because—"
I stopped, my throat closing up completely, the words refusing to come.
The elder leaned forward slightly, those black eyes boring into mine with laser focus.
"Because?"
"Because Ahrick is my mate."
The elder went very, very still.
"Your mate," she repeated slowly, testing the words. "The Vaktaire has claimed you."
"Yes." I thought about Ahrick's hands on my skin, his voice in the darkness. He'd called me his mate, though there had been no ceremony, nothing formal, but in my mind that was only a matter of time. "And I—"
My voice broke completely.
"I love him."
I loved him.
And I was going to lose him if I couldn't convince these aliens to help.
"Please," I whispered, and I didn't care that my voice was shaking, that tears were streaming down my face, that I was completely breaking down in front of a stranger.
"Please help me. I know I'm not Chloe. I know I'm not the one you gave the stone to.
But Ahrick gave it to me because he trusted you.
Because he believed you would honor the friendship you showed to Nansar and Chloe. "
I took a step forward, my hands clenched into fists so tight my nails bit into my palms.
"Hewes is evil. He's a slaver and a murderer and he's going to keep hurting people if someone doesn't stop him.
Persico—the crime lord he overthrew—Persico is a bad man.
I'm not going to pretend he isn't. I'm not going to lie and say he's some kind of hero.
But he's a bad man you can live with. Hewes is something worse.
Something that will spread like poison if he's allowed to remain in power. "