24. Mistakes and Consequences #2
"You were very stern. I’m just a very determined female. And my new formula was untested. I didn’t know it would work this fast."
Something crosses his face. Not a smile. Drenz doesn't smile. But his mouth pulls to one side, just barely.
"I will use that version," Drenz says. "If you are questioned, I suggest you use it, too."
I look up to see Rythar watching from the gate.
He’s in full armor. Then he moves toward me like he moves in the jungle when he’s hunting something.
I take a step back before I can stop myself.
Then another. My shoulders hit the courtyard wall.
His chest is inches from mine, blotting out the courtyard, and his hand lands at the small of my back, firm, pulling me off the wall and into his side.
I can feel his fury through his hand, through the heat of him, through the way his fingers press flat against my spine like he's holding me in place or holding himself back. I can't tell which. I don’t ask why he’s angry. I know what I did.
The med-tech starts to say something, but Rythar’s glare is enough to silence him.
“Report for debriefing,” Rythar orders him and two others. He doesn’t want this discussed in public. But this crowd is going to talk. I can feel the shift from confusion to suspicion to something closer to reverence. Or fear.
Rythar steers me away from the crowd, fingers around my upper arm.
I carry my medkit. We walk into the fortress and through the corridor, footsteps echoing around us.
Rythar is silent and brooding, his powerful stride making it difficult for me to keep up with the pace he sets for us.
He doesn't slow until the door slides shut behind us. Only then does he speak.
"Elena."
Just my name. The way Rythar says it, it sounds like the first word of a sentence that will end in blood. Goosebumps rise on my arms. I know that voice. I've heard it directed at his warriors, at things in his jungle. I've never heard it directed at me.
"I ordered you not to use the antivenom," he says. His fingers are still wrapped tightly around my arm. He glances down at the medkit. "I told you that nothing you build leaves my oversight. You disobeyed me."
"You're angry with me," I say, forcing words past my throat.
His eyes pin mine. "Angry with you," he repeats. The words come out slowly, like he's tasting each one and finding them wrong. "Angry. With you."
My heart hammers. I lift my chin the way I've learned to do when everything inside me wants to fold. "Yes. I disobeyed you. I wasn't thinking about your orders because he was dying in front of me. What was I supposed to do? Let him die?"
"Yes, Elena. You let him die. You let me handle it. You let my warriors handle it. Do not ever risk yourself again.”
"I wasn't in danger. I was doing my job."
"Your job.” His eyebrows slash down. “You are not on New Terra."
"I know that," I snap.
"Do you?" His hand catches my chin, tilting my face up.
His thumb presses into the hinge of my jaw, holding me where he wants me.
"Because the woman I just watched kneel in front of my warriors was not thinking like someone who lives on Xytheos.
She was thinking like someone who still believes the old rules apply. "
I pull my chin free. His fingers open, but his eyes stay narrowed on mine.
"The old rules will get you killed here. And the ones that feel most right to you are the ones that will get you killed the fastest," he growls.
I hold his stare. My mouth flattens. "Compassion is not an outdated rule," I say stubbornly.
“This was a trap," he says, quieter now. "Serpent-panthers do not appear by accident. Someone wanted to draw out the cure. They wanted to see if you had one. Instead, they saw you kneel in the dirt and administer it yourself." He pauses. "And now they know."
The name “Vorak” isn't spoken, but it’s who Rythar is talking about.
Rythar’s hand comes to the small of my back and steers me past every door I might choose and through the one he's chosen for me.
Our quarters.
The door seals behind us. He turns on me. The armor makes him bigger, wider, and in this room he fills every corner. One hand fists in the fabric at my waist, pulling me forward until there's no air between us and all I can smell is cinnamon and jungle and the wild scent that lives under his skin.
"You will remain here," Rythar says. "He will not have you."
His lips are on mine before I finish processing the words, and the kiss is a claim, teeth nipping my lower lip, his hand at my waist holding me where he put me.
I pull my mouth free. "You’re not locking me in here. No."
"Yes."
"Is this my punishment?" I shove at his armored chest and feel nothing give. "Or do you have something worse? Like what Sophia is getting from Vorak."
His face twists in disgust. “You heard me tell Vorak that I would punish my mate.”
“Yes,” I spit.
“I would not harm a hair on your head,” he says, angry and raw. “I am engineered to protect you. From violence. From poison. From politics. Even from myself.”
“Your engineering isn’t perfect. Vorak hurts Sophia,” I say. “I’ve seen it in her mind.”
Rythar’s jaw tightens. “Vorak is not like me. He is old code. Untouched by the revisions. And left running far too long.” He steps back a fraction.
“The High Lord said malfunctions are ended,” I say. “He told you to bring proof. So bring it.”
“With what? The beast is ash. My patrol saw a serpent-panther, not the hand that loosed it. Vorak does not leave hands.” His voice flattens. “I am hunting for the proof. Until I hold it, you are what Vorak hunts. Keeping you safe from him is not punishment,” he says.
I sag against the stone, still clutching the handle of the medkit with one hand. “It feels like one.”
His armored hand comes up, bracing against the stone beside my head. “If you can undo serpent-panther venom, then you undo a balance this world has relied upon for centuries.”
“What balance? It’s a venom,” I protest.
Rythar growls in frustration. “You must understand Xytheos. Every biome has its killer. Sometimes serpent-panthers are used. Sometimes other animals.”
“Like rats,” I say, thinking.
His eyes hold mine. “Not rats. Weak animals target a weak population. Only a large apex predator can target a biome lord or upper command.”
My head is spinning. Weak population. Hushbite rats killed many on New Terra. All of us knew someone who died of a bite before the antivenom was improved.
“But what if you wait and your enemies kill more of your warriors? On New Terra we all carried antivenom in case of a bite. But it was too late. By then, we’d already had so many men die that there weren’t enough to protect us,” I say.
I don’t say my other question. Who brought Hushbite venom to Xytheos?
“Elena. I do not need warriors to keep you safe. If the Green Reach holds a cure, my warriors cross any border and survive what kills everyone else. There are few things that could unite the other biome lords against one. This is one. They would unite to take the cure.” He runs his fingers over my upper arm, then gives me a light squeeze. “Or take its maker.”
“And after today, they saw who the maker is,” I sigh. I knelt in front of all those witnesses and administered the antivenom. But I couldn’t let that warrior die. I can’t bring myself to regret it.
“You will remain within these quarters,” he says. “You may visit the engineering room only under guard. No rooftop. No public presence. Drenz or I will escort you.”
“You’re caging me,” I say, shrugging out of his grip.
“It is necessary.” He steps back. “You wanted to save one life? This may cost many more. Put yourself in harm’s way again, Elena, and see how many I would kill to keep you alive.”
Then he turns toward the door.
And the lock engages behind him with a heavy, final sound.
I sink down to the floor, back against the wall. The medkit clunks on the stone next to me. I can’t really blame Rythar. Not completely. Vorak set the trap. I just walked into it carrying a medkit.