Chapter 6
Nansar
What had happened to Chloe? The question burned through me as we walked, impossible to ignore. Something terrible—that much was clear. How she resisted being touched. That split-second of pure terror before she'd managed to mask it, the way her entire body had gone rigid.
Someone hurt her. Badly.
The thought made something dark and primal coil in my chest, a protective fury that had no business existing in a disgraced prisoner like me. Yet there it was, undeniable as the tingling in my horns that seemed to intensify whenever she was near.
I kept my movements slow and deliberate as we traversed the ridgeline, making sure my hands stayed visible, that nothing I did could be construed as threatening. She deserved that much—to feel safe, even if only for these few stolen hours in the wilderness.
I moved carefully, keeping to the areas where moss and scrub brush kept tracks from forming.
Behind us, the landscape stretched empty and silent. I paused, listening intently, but heard nothing except wind sighing through sparse vegetation and Chloe's soft breathing beside me. No hoverbikes. No pursuit.
Hours had passed since I'd last heard their engines. By now they would have discovered Bronto's body—or perhaps Ahrick had found them first. Either way, we'd bought ourselves time.
The ridgeline descended gradually, leading us toward a dense copse of trees where the air grew thick with moisture. My ears caught it first—the musical rush of running water.
"This way," I murmured, adjusting our path.
The rainy season had been generous this year, sending torrents of runoff cascading down from the highlands into the wastes below.
For a few precious weeks, these forested pockets would thrive—bursting with green life before the relentless sun reclaimed the land and turned everything back to dust and stone.
The forest embraced us, sunlight filtering through layers of leaves in golden shafts that danced across Chloe's face. The sound of water grew louder, and soon I could smell it—crisp and clean, carrying the mineral tang of mountain springs.
We broke through the tree line onto a rocky bank. Below us, a creek perhaps ten meters wide rushed over smooth stones, its surface catching the light like scattered diamonds.
Chloe made a small, desperate sound—almost a whimper—that went straight through me. "Oh, thank God."
She surged forward immediately, her exhaustion evident in every stumbling step across the uneven ground, her legs trembling beneath her.
My arm shot out on pure instinct, hovering just inches from her waist—close enough to feel her warmth, careful not to make contact—creating a barrier between her and the water's edge.
"Wait," I commanded, my voice sterner than I intended.
She turned those eyes on me—confusion and frustration blazing in their depths. Her lips were cracked and dry, and I could see the way her body strained toward the water like a flower seeking sunlight. But I couldn't let her. Not yet.
"I need to check for danger first," I said, forcing myself to move past her, to put distance between us before I did something foolish. "Stay here. Don't move."
I approached the water's edge carefully, hyperaware of her presence behind me even as I scanned the shallows and rocks along the bank.
The stones gleamed with moss in places—bright pink and treacherously slick—and I searched for any signs of movement beneath the surface, shadows that didn't belong, ripples that moved against the current.
"What kinds of danger does this place have?" Her voice drifted to me, tight with anxiety and something else—trust, perhaps, that I would keep her safe.
I crouched down, examining a cluster of reeds near the bank, their stalks swaying in a hypnotic dance with the current.
"Several kinds. There are animals—predators mostly.
The cipic is a venomous serpent that hides in the rocks around water.
" I moved along the bank, checking upstream and down, my gaze sweeping across every shadow, every crevice where danger might lurk.
"Then there are the plants. Some are poisonous to touch, others release spores that can cause hallucinations or respiratory failure. "
The water seemed clear enough—no signs of the cipic or the pale, translucent leeches that sometimes congregated in slower-moving sections.
"But the worst dangers," I continued, rising to my full height and turning back to face her, "are the Welati and other prisoners."
The color drained from her face, and I hated myself for putting that fear there. "Prisoners? Exactly how many prisoners are we talking?"
“Hundreds.” I studied her expression, cataloging every flicker of emotion across those delicate features. Genuine shock. Had she not known? "You didn't know this was a prison planet?"
"Yes." She nodded slowly, taking a step back, her hand moving to her throat in an unconsciously vulnerable gesture that made something tighten in my chest. "They told me—I just thought since I'd only seen you and that other guy that maybe there weren't that many.
.." Her voice trailed off, and then her gaze sharpened on me with sudden wariness. "Are you a prisoner?"
I could have deflected. Could have changed the subject or given her a vague answer that would have been easier for both of us. But those wide eyes deserved the truth, especially if she was going to trust me with her life.
"Yes," I said, the word falling between us like a stone into still water.
I watched her process it, saw the apprehension flicker across her features—a delicate dance of fear and curiosity that she couldn't quite hide. To her credit, she didn't run. She stood her ground, chin lifting with courage that made my pulse quicken.
"What did you do?" Her voice was quieter now, but steady. Brave.
I held her gaze, refusing to look away even as shame threatened to make me. "I helped plan an assassination attempt on my father, Duke Ako."
Her lips parted in shock, color draining from her cheeks. "Your own father?"
"Yes." The confession tasted bitter on my tongue. "I'm not going to make excuses for what I did. I should have known better, been stronger. I allowed someone I thought was an ally to use my insecurities about my human mother, twisting them into something poisonous."
I swallowed hard, the shame of it still fresh even after all this time, a wound that refused to fully heal, that festered in the darkest corners of my soul.
"I let him fill me with hatred. I let myself believe the lies he fed me.
And I nearly killed the one person who always loved me unconditionally. "
Chloe was quiet for a long moment, her eyes searching my face with an expression that made my horns tingle. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft. "And now?"
"Now I'm paying for it. Gladly." I straightened my shoulders, forcing myself to hold her gaze even as vulnerability clawed at my chest. "The sentence is just. I deserve every bit of it.
I'm grateful that my father forgave me. That we reconciled.
I don't deserve his forgiveness, but he gave it anyway. "
"How long?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "How long is your sentence?"
"Fifty years."
Her eyes widened, lips parting in dismay. "Fifty—" She shook her head, and something in her expression made my heart clench. "You'll be an old man when you get out."
Despite everything, I felt a slight smile tug at my lips. "Not really. My kind—the Aljani—we live much longer than humans. Three hundred years, typically. Fifty years is... significant, but not a lifetime. Not for us."
She fell quiet again, her brow furrowed in thought, and I found myself memorizing the way the dappled sunlight played across her features.
Then she took a step closer—close enough that I could smell the sweet scent of her skin beneath the grime—and her expression softened in a way that made my chest tighten almost painfully.
"Thank you."
I blinked, caught off guard. "For what?"
"For telling me the truth." She glanced back toward the jungle, then met my eyes again with an expression that sent heat radiating through my horns and down my spine. "And for coming to help me."
"You needed help," I said, though my voice came out rough, betraying the effect she had on me. "And despite what I've done, I'm still trying to be better than I was."
The tingling sensation spread through my horns again, more insistent this time, a warmth that radiated into my skull and pooled low in my belly.
I resisted the urge to rub at the base of them, forcing myself to turn back toward the creek instead, putting necessary distance between us before I did something foolish.
Before I reached for her the way every instinct was screaming at me to do.
"The water looks safe," I told her, my voice more gruff than necessary as I fought to regain control. "You can drink and wash. Really clean your wound. Just stay away from the reeds—sometimes the cipic hide in the roots."
I needed to focus on getting her to safety. Not on the way her presence made my blood sing. Not on whatever biological nonsense my body was trying to convince me of. She was human. Vulnerable. Under my protection only because circumstances had thrown us together.
And I was a prisoner, condemned to this place long after she would become nothing more than a bittersweet memory.