Chapter 11 #2
If I read Ceeka’s gestures correctly, she was explaining something important regarding those black scales. The way Ceeka acted, her movements almost reverent when she touched the obsidian stone, it suggested something that went beyond mere physical transformation.
"What?” I asked, raising my hands in the universal gesture of confusion.
Ceeka’s next set of gestures was plain. Ask Diarvet.
I glanced to where he sat under the shade of bright purple leaves that shimmered like jewels in the sunlight, while Lilibet worked her small fingers through his hair with the focused concentration of an artist, intent on her masterpiece.
Diarvet’s scales had returned to their usual blue and gold shortly after our encounter with the Wojonik, but a few obsidian scales remained scattered over his neck and shoulders like black stars, catching the light with an almost otherworldly gleam.
“Fine, I’ll ask him,” I conceded, my voice carrying a resignation that made Ceeka’s eyes brighten with satisfaction. “Later. After dinner, when we put Lilibet to bed.”
Ceeka shook her head so fiercely that the small shell necklace she wore around her neck tinkled like wind chimes. Her gesture was delivered with the kind of emphasis that left no room for misinterpretation.
Alone.
Whatever secret knowledge she possessed about his transformation, she thought I needed to ask him when there wasn't the threat of an audience. The problem was, we were hardly ever alone. Lilibet was always with us, or the tribe was nearby, or there were daily tasks that demanded attention.
Ceeka knew this and obviously had something in mind, her dark eyes shimmering with a sort of scheming intelligence that made me nervous.
She waved toward where Numa worked alongside the other females preparing the maramount, then nodded toward Lilibet and tapped herself on the chest. Then she reached into the woven basket at our feet, pulling out a long purple root.
Kompur root, she gestured, her hands shaping the familiar sign.
One of my favorites for its sweet potato flavor and the way it melted on the tongue like butter.
Translation: She and Numa would watch Lilibet while Diarvet and I fetched more kompur roots.
Since kompur root only grew in one place—near the falls on the other side of the mountain—to walk there and back would take several hours, plenty of time for a conversation that required privacy.
With Ceeka at my side, I meandered over to where Lilibet and Diarvet sat beneath a massive tree, purple leaves creating a natural canopy that filtered the afternoon sunlight into dancing patterns across their forms.
“Look, MeMe, isn’t he pretty?” Lilibet asked, her small face absolutely glowing with pride as she stepped back to admire her handiwork, her tiny hands still clutching a few stray yellow blossoms.
Diarvet squared his broad shoulders and lifted his chin, somehow looking both proud and strong despite bearing a startling resemblance to a Chia pet.
Albeit a devastatingly handsome Chia pet whose deep blue hair now sprouted tiny yellow flowers.
The sight made my chest tight with unexpected affection.
“Yes, he is very pretty,” I agreed, pressing my lips together to bite back the smile that threatened to break free at the way Diarvet’s golden eyes brightened with pleasure at the compliment.
“I have been groomed by the talented Princess Lilibet,” he announced, his deep voice carrying across the clearing like he was declaring something truly magnificent to the entire tribe.
“I can do your hair too, MeMe,” Lilibet declared with the confidence of a master stylist, waving one small hand toward the pile of bright yellow blossoms resting on the soft grass near her bare feet.
“I would love that,” I told her, sinking to my knees and pulling her against me in a hug that smelled of sunshine and wildflowers.
As the frequent recipient of many of her beauty treatments, I knew the simple joy of being cared for by those gentle, determined little hands.
“Maybe you could do Ceeka and Numa’s hair too?
” I suggested, catching Ceeka’s eye and offering her a conspiratorial wink.
Ceeka’s eyes widened with a mixture of horror and reluctant amusement at the prospect of being subjected to Lilibet’s artistry, her fur rippling as she suppressed what might have been either laughter or panic.
At least it would keep Lilibet happily occupied while Diarvet and I had our private conversation.
My stomach fluttered at the thought, and unbidden images of what else we might do while alone together flashed through my mind, sending heat racing across my cheeks like wildfire.
“I’m going to gather kompur root,” I announced, gazing at Diarvet and hoping I sounded casual, though my voice came out slightly breathless. “Want to come help me?”
“Yes,” Diarvet jumped to his feet, yellow blossoms cascading from his dark hair like golden raindrops. Then he tempered his obvious excitement and straightened to his full, impressive height. “You will need protection in the jungle.”
Ceeka snorted in amusement as she fixed Diarvet with a look that could have stripped paint, her eyes dancing in a way that said she saw straight through his pretense.
After giving Lilibet goodbye hugs and ensuring she was set for her impromptu afternoon beauty parlor, we made our way into the jungle, following a narrow path that wound between the trees, with filtered sunlight dancing in patterns of gold and green at our feet.
The air was thick with the scent of blooming flowers and rich, fertile earth, alive with the gentle hum of insects and the distant calls of exotic birds.
“The kompur grows best near water,” Diarvet explained, as he pushed aside a curtain of hanging vines for me to pass through.
“So Ceeka said. It’s one of my favorites. It tastes like something we have back home called a sweet potato.” I ducked under a low-hanging branch, my fingers trailing along the smooth bark of a tree whose trunk was easily ten times my arm span.
“It is one of my favorites too,” he replied, his azure eyes scanning the foliage. “We have a similar vegetable on Zarpazia.”
I was so focused on his words, on the way his voice seemed to wrap around me like warm honey, that I didn’t notice the root snaking across the path until my foot caught it. I stumbled forward with a startled gasp, my arms windmilling as I fought to regain my balance.
Diarvet’s hand shot out instantly, his strong fingers wrapping around my wrist, steadying me before I could fall. The contact sent a jolt of electricity up my arm, and when I looked up to thank him, I found myself caught in the warmth of his gaze.
Instead of letting go, I found myself threading my fingers through his, our palms pressing together in a way that felt as natural as breathing.
His hand was warm and slightly rough, but it fit against mine perfectly, like two puzzle pieces finally finding their match.
The rightness of it settled into my bones, chasing away the last of my nervousness and replacing it with something deeper, something that felt like coming home.
As we walked deeper into the jungle, Diarvet’s expression grew more serious. He glanced at me, then cleared his throat in a way that suggested what came next was important.
“There is something I must tell you,” he began, his deep voice carrying a note of excitement. “The Peecha have a comm unit—part of the trade relationship with Zarpazia after our former king was exiled here. Tark was able to get a message through to Vraxxan about the Wojonik attack.”
My heart skipped a beat at the mention of communication with the outside world—not exactly excitement, more a pang of regret that our time on Eden might be ending soon.
“Vraxxan had even better news to share,” Diarvet continued.
His scales began to shimmer, shifting from their usual blue-gold to something brighter, more luminous.
“He spoke with the Alliance Prime. She has agreed to intervene on your behalf. Both you and Lilibet have been officially declared free of Qurbaga’s claim of ownership. ”
“We’re free? We’re safe?” I asked, unsure if my giddiness was due to the news or the way his thumb gently ran over the back of my hand.
“Not quite,” Diarvet said, his eyes growing dark. “Qurbaga is an entitled bastard. He will not accept the Prime’s directive without a fight. We still need to get you somewhere safe where Qurbaga has no access.”
“Where?” I sighed, wondering if there was such a place in the entire universe. The slimy frog was royalty after all.
Diarvet stopped, turning to face me. His free hand came up to cup my chin, raising my gaze to his.
“Qurbaga will never touch you again, Lilibet, either,” he vowed, his voice a little more than a growl.
“Vraxxan is sending a Zarpazian warship. It should be here in a few days. We can travel to Zarpazia. You and Lilibet will be safe there.”
“Really?” I asked, hope blooming in my chest.
A smile broke across his face that would melt titanium, his scales rippling with emotion. “Really,” he said softly.
The joy that flooded through me was overwhelming. Before I could stop myself, I launched forward, wrapping my arms around his waist and burying my face against his chest.
Diarvet went completely still, his breath hitching audibly. I felt his hands hover uncertainly over my back for a moment before settling there with deliberate gentleness, one palm spanning the space between my shoulder blades, the other resting at the curve of my spine.