Chapter 3 #2
"We will maintain passive intelligence gathering," Darrokar announced. "If information surfaces regarding the missing humans' location, we will reassess. But we cannot justify dedicating active resources to a search with no viable leads. This Council is …"
"No."
The word cut through the chamber like a blade through flesh. Small. Defiant. Human.
Lexa stepped forward, out of the shadows, into the light of the heat crystals. Her face was pale, her eyes blazing, her whole body vibrating with barely suppressed fury.
"You can't just give up," she said, her voice shaking. "They're still out there. They're still alive. You're just going to abandon them?"
The chamber went silent. Shocked. It was one thing for Terra to interrupt. She was the Warrior Lord's mate and had a strange position here. No one else interrupted Council proceedings. Especially not a human with no official standing, no mate-bond to grant her status.
Mektar's voice came, cold and sharp. "You have no right to address this Council, human."
"I have every right," Lexa shot back. "You're talking about my people. About humans who crashed on this world through no fault of their own and are now prisoners somewhere, and you're sitting here debating whether they're worth the effort to find."
"This is a matter of Scalvaris security," Pyroth said, his tone dismissive. "Not your concern."
"Not my concern?" Lexa's laugh was bitter, jagged. "How is it not my concern? How is the fate of other humans not something I get to have an opinion about?"
"Because you are not a member of this Council," Mektar said flatly. "You have no place here. No voice. You will be silent or you will be removed."
My claws were digging into my palms hard enough to draw blood. The scent of it mixed with Lexa's fury, her fear, her desperate helplessness. Every muscle in my body screamed at me to move, to step between her and Mektar, to defend her right to speak.
But I couldn't. Not without making everything worse.
She was alone up there. Facing down warriors who could kill her with a thought, who had the power to silence her, to dismiss her, to make her irrelevant.
And I was standing here doing nothing.
Coward.
The word burned through my thoughts, acidic and true.
"Lexa." Terra's voice, quiet but firm. A warning. Step back. Don't make this worse.
Lexa ignored her. She was past reason now, past strategy. All the frustration and uselessness she'd been feeling for weeks had found a target, and she was going to hit it even if it destroyed her.
"You don't get to decide this," she said, her voice rising. "You don't get to just write them off because it's inconvenient or dangerous or politically complicated. They're people. They deserve—"
"Silence!" Pyroth's roar shook the chamber. He rose from his seat, wings spreading, a display of dominance meant to cow her into submission. "You will be silent, or I will make you silent."
Lexa flinched. Just a fraction, just enough that I saw it. Fear flickered across her face, there and gone, replaced by stubborn defiance.
But I'd seen it. Seen her afraid.
My vision went red at the edges.
I took half a step toward Pyroth before I caught myself. Stopped. Forced my body to stillness even as every instinct howled.
"Enough." Darrokar's voice cut through the tension. He stood, his presence commanding immediate attention. "Pyroth, stand down."
Pyroth hesitated, then slowly folded his wings and resumed his seat. But his eyes stayed locked on Lexa, promising consequences.
Darrokar turned his gaze to Lexa. Not unkind, but unyielding. "Your concerns are noted, but this matter is closed."
"It's not closed," Lexa said, quieter now but no less fierce. "It can't be closed. Not when there are still people out there who need help."
"The decision has been made."
"Then it's the wrong decision."
The words hung in the air. An accusation. A challenge. Dangerous in ways she probably didn't fully understand.
Before anyone could respond, Terra stepped forward. She moved to stand beside Lexa, her posture shifting into something more official.
"Warrior Lord," she said, her voice carrying the weight of her position. "I request permission to speak."
Darrokar's expression didn't change, but something shifted in his eyes. He knew what she was doing. Using her status as his mate to grant legitimacy to concerns Lexa couldn't voice on her own.
"You may speak, luvae."
Terra inclined her head, acknowledging the courtesy. "I formally object to the Council's decision to suspend active search operations for the missing humans."
Murmurs rippled through the Council. This was different from Lexa's outburst. Terra had the right to lodge objections, to petition the Warrior Lord, to use her position to advocate.
"On what grounds?" Zarvash asked.
"On the grounds that Scalvaris accepted responsibility for human survivors when you chose to integrate them into our city," Terra said.
"We cannot selectively decide which humans deserve our protection based on convenience.
Either we commit to protecting all humans under our care, or we admit that our word means nothing. "
"The humans in question are not under our care," Pyroth argued. "They were never brought to Scalvaris. They were captured by Ignarath. We have no obligation to them."
"We have a moral obligation," Terra countered. "And a strategic one. If we abandon these humans, what message does that send to the humans already in Scalvaris? That they're only valuable as long as they're useful? That we'll discard them the moment protecting them becomes difficult?"
She was good. I had to give her that. She'd taken Lexa's emotional argument and translated it into language the Council would understand. Strategic considerations. Political implications. Long-term consequences.
But I could see from Darrokar's face that it wouldn't be enough.
There were only twelve humans in all of Scalvaris. That we'd gone searching for more at all was a miracle.
"Your objection is noted," he said carefully. "We will discuss this matter privately."
In other words, he was shutting down the debate. Removing it from public forum. Whether he would actually reconsider or was just placating his mate remained to be seen.
Terra's jaw tightened, but she nodded. "Thank you, Warrior Lord."
Darrokar's gaze swept the Council. "This session is concluded."
The Council members began to rise, conversations breaking out in low murmurs. The formal atmosphere dissolved into something more casual, warriors discussing training, making plans for later, talking about their families.
I stayed where I was, rooted to the center of the floor.
Lexa looked shattered. All the fire that had driven her outburst had burned out, leaving only exhaustion and defeat. Her shoulders slumped. Her hands unclenched, falling limp at her sides.
Terra put a hand on her arm, said something too quiet for me to hear. Lexa shook her head, pulling away.
Then her eyes found mine across the chamber.
The impact of that gaze hit me in the chest. Betrayal burned in those blue depths. Fury. Determination. And underneath it all, a question: Why didn't you help me?
I had no answer. Nothing that would satisfy her. Nothing that would satisfy me.
She knew nothing of the bond between us, couldn't possibly. We'd fought once, and it had solidified every certainty in me. But she was human. She wasn't of Scalvaris, wasn't Drakarn.
I'd stood silent while she was dismissed, threatened, shut down. I'd done nothing while the Council voted to abandon her people. I'd chosen duty over her, even if she had no way of knowing.
She saw exactly what kind of male I was. What kind of mate I would be. Why I did not deserve her.
A coward who put obligation before everything else.
Her expression shuttered. Whatever she'd been looking for in my face, she didn't find it. She turned away, following Terra toward the chamber exit.
She was going to do something. I knew it with the same certainty I knew my own name. Lexa wasn't the kind of woman who accepted defeat, who waited for others to solve problems. She was a warrior, someone who took action when action was needed.
I feared she was going to go after the missing humans herself.
And she was going to get herself killed.