Chapter 4 Terra
TERRA
"Terra, wait!" Eden's voice echoed through the corridor loud enough to make my ears ring.
I paused and looked over my shoulder. The air here was always warm, but tonight it felt stifling. I'd slipped out as the festivities were dying down. Lexa hadn't managed to coax Kira back but had assured us she was safe in her room. That was the best we could hope for.
For now.
"What's up, is everything alright?" Eden's face was flushed, her dark hair with its faded red highlights sticking to her forehead.
I would have been lying if I said I wasn't just a little more protective of Eden than of everyone else.
She was the youngest, the most hopeful. Maybe the most adaptable among us.
This life was unlike what any of us had been promised, but she had the best chance at letting it all feel normal.
She caught up to me, panting slightly. She must have run the few hundred meters from the entrance to the human quarters. "I know we said no gifts, but …" She shoved a worn cloth bag at me.
The fabric was soft. When I opened it, the scent hit me first. Sweet, artificial, utterly Earth. Inside were maybe a dozen pieces of candy, wrapped in crinkled foil and plastic that had seen better days. Chocolate, hard candies, a piece of gum in a broken foil wrapper.
My throat tightened. Eden had been rationing this stash since we'd arrived, allowing herself maybe one piece every few weeks. I'd seen her unwrap them with the reverence other people reserved for religious artifacts.
"We said no gifts for a reason, kid, you didn't have to do this." But I didn't try to give it back. Couldn't. The gesture meant too much, even if it made something sharp twist in my chest.
Eden's mouth tightened fractionally, and I winced internally. She hated being called kid. But, really, it was her own damn fault for being twenty years old.
"I just … you do so much for us. I thought you could use something sweet."
"Thank you." The words came out rougher than I'd intended. I tucked the bag into my jacket, close to my heart.
Something made the air shift. A change in pressure, in temperature.
My training kicked in before conscious thought, every muscle in my body going tense.
The sound reached us a heartbeat later: the heavy rush of wings cutting through air.
I stepped in front of Eden without thinking, my hand moving instinctively toward the blade at my hip.
Two Drakarn dropped from the ceiling, their wings folding as they landed in crouches that spoke of barely contained violence.
The first had scales the color of deep purple bruises, his yellow eyes fixed on us with obvious malice.
The second was red as fresh blood, smaller but with the wiry build that suggested speed over strength.
I didn't recognize them by name, but I'd seen them in the training yards. Novice warriors, probably not much older than Eden, but still twice my size and armed with natural weapons I'd never possess.
My human flesh felt more exposed than ever.
"Eden, go home, now." My voice came out flat, commanding. Military.
"Yes, little softscale, go home," the purple one said, his voice a mockery of mine. His fangs gleamed in the light.
The red one flared his wings, the membrane throwing our shadows against the wall. "Run, little girl."
"Do it, Eden." I didn't take my eyes off them, but I was relieved to hear Eden's retreating footsteps. The sound faded quickly, swallowed by the stone corridors. Good. She didn't need to see this idiocy.
The purple one took a step closer, his claws clicking against the stone floor. "Look at this, Vareth. The human thinks she can stand against us."
"Pathetic," Vareth agreed. His tail lashed behind him like an angry cat's. "No scales, no claws, no wings. What are you going to do, soft thing? Bleed on us?"
They circled me slowly, testing, looking for weakness. This wasn't random harassment. This was calculated intimidation, designed to make me feel small and helpless. It might have worked if I hadn't spent the last eight months learning to survive in a world that wanted me dead.
"The Skalanth begins soon," the purple one continued, his voice taking on the tone of someone reciting scripture. "A time for true warriors to prove their worth. To bring honor to Scalvaris through strength and skill."
"Not like the cowards who hide behind their mates," Vareth added, his gaze raking over me with obvious disgust. "Real warriors earn their place through blood and victory."
"But the Warrior Lord's pet knows nothing of honor," Vareth said.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. This again. As if I hadn't heard it a hundred times before.
The accusation was tired and completely predictable. Darrokar's human mate, too weak to fight, too soft to belong, corrupting their perfect warrior society with my mere existence. I didn't give a single damn about their opinions, but apparently, they hadn't gotten the message.
"Challenge us," the purple one said, stepping closer. His breath was hot against my face, carrying the scent of smoke and sulfur. "Prove you belong here. Show us this honor you claim to possess."
"Unless you're too frightened," Vareth added with a sneer. "Too weak. Too human."
My hand tightened on my blade's hilt, but I didn't draw it. They wanted me to make the first move, to give them justification for what they planned to do anyway.
In Scalvaris, attacking an opponent unprovoked carried serious consequences, especially when that opponent was mated to the Warrior Lord. But if I drew first, if I made it a formal challenge, all bets were off.
And while I'd had months of practice, while I could hold my own against some of the Drakarn in training, two on one against warriors who'd been fighting since they could walk were not odds I was willing to chance. I wasn't suicidal.
The sound of running footsteps echoed through the corridor, human feet pounding against stone. Multiple sets, moving fast and with purpose. Relief flooded through me, followed immediately by worry. If my people got involved, this could escalate beyond anyone's control.
"What the fuck do you weasels want?" Vega demanded.
So much for diplomacy.
Lexa and Hawk flanked Vega, all armed and ready for violence. The dynamic in the corridor shifted instantly. Two on one had become two on four, and while the Drakarn still had physical advantages, we had numbers and the kind of desperate fury that came from months of suppressed frustration.
"Back off," Hawk said. "Now."
Lexa said nothing, but the knife in her hand caught the light, and her stance spoke of someone who knew how to use it.
The purple one's wings flared wider, a display of dominance that might have been impressive if he wasn't outnumbered. "Four soft things instead of one. How terrifying."
"Test us and find out," Vega said, her voice deadly calm. She'd positioned herself slightly ahead of the others, ready to take the first hit if it came to that. "I'm betting Darrokar won't be pleased if he finds out you've been harassing his mate."
And with Vega and Hawk there, add in Zarvash and Khorlar. Three males no Drakarn would want to cross.
That gave them pause. The red one's tail stopped lashing, and I saw calculation flicker across his features. They might be young and stupid, but they weren't completely insane.
"Retreat to your mate," the purple one said, backing toward the ceiling. "The Skalanth will show everyone what real strength looks like."
"Looking forward to it," I said, my voice steady despite the adrenaline still coursing through my system.
They launched themselves upward with powerful wing beats, disappearing into the shadows above. The corridor fell silent except for the sound of our breathing and the distant hum of the mountain's geothermal systems.
"Me and Hawk will walk you home," said Vega. "It's on the way for us."
Lexa was still holding a wickedly sharp knife and staring at the ceiling above us.
It was easy to forget we were living in caves sometimes, given how tall the ceilings could be.
At moments like this, I cursed them. Too many places to hide, too many angles of attack.
The Drakarn had all the advantages in their own territory.
"That's a good idea," Lexa agreed, finally sheathing her blade. "They don't bother us when we're at home."
Was that good enough? That the unmated humans could sleep without worrying about attack? Was that all they could hope for?
We'd survived eight months on this alien world, carved out a place for ourselves among warriors and politicians and fanatics who wanted us gone. I was starting to believe that we might actually have a future here.
But tonight was a reminder that acceptance was fragile, that there would always be those who saw us as invaders, as corruption, as something to be eliminated.
Things were supposed to get easier, the longer we survived here.
So why did it feel like it was only getting worse?