Stolen by Starlight

Warrior Kings of Alioth Book One

Sara Ivy Hill

 Copyright © 2021 by Sara Ivy Hill
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the
publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people, places, events, or organizations is
purely coincidental, and all are the creation of the author.
Cover by Daqri Bernardo of Covers by Combs https://www.coversbycombs.com/
Editing by Paula Lester of Polaris Editing https://www.polarisediting.com/
Table of Contents
Title Page

Copyright Page

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21
Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Epilogue

Author’s Note

About the Author

Chapter 1
 Ada
hese might be our last moments together.
T “Pay attention,” I whisper to my younger sister, Lena. A weak beam of light filtering through
the bars of our cage illuminates the damp curl of white-blonde hair sticking to her cheek. She ignores
me as she bends over the pale, leggy space bug that she’s adopted as a pet.
This planet is hot, but still, I shiver. I’ve gotten used to many things in the weeks since our
abduction from Earth—the cold metal of the spaceship hold where the Frathiks keep us captive. The
weird protein bar things they feed us. The shackles that rub raw spots on my wrists, and the chains
that loop us together in groups of six. But I can’t get used to space bugs.
“Give me a little slack.” Lena tugs on the chain between us, and I move my hands, so she has
enough room to coax her bug into the shell she wears on a string around her neck like a creepy-crawly
locket. She’s even given the bug thing a name. Elvis.
“Knock it off.” Tamira yanks the chain back and shoots me an irritated look as she lifts the heavy
mane of candy-colored curls off her neck and fans herself. This heat has all of us testy. The heat, and
the fact that this might be the last time we see each other. We’re about to be sold.
Outside our cage—really a small cave with a row of metal bars that locks us in—there is the dull
roar of a crowd, the crisp crackle of an amplified voice speaking an alien language in a quick patter.
Though the heavy translator stapled to my ear only catches the occasional word, I can tell it’s an
auction by the rhythm and the palpable excitement.
Somehow, I know this is our last stop, and judging by the grim faces around me, everyone else
does, too. We’ll be separated. I know that. I accept that, even though they’ve all become like sisters
to me.
But only one of them is my real sister. I’ll do anything to protect her, and the only way I can
accomplish that is if we stay together.
Lena and I have to stay together.
Jaya, who has become our unofficial leader, stretches her lanky form to peek at the scene outside
the cage. The towering gray alien guarding us notices and slams a metal rod against the bars, rattling
them so hard I can feel the vibrations in my bones. Our captors, the Frathiks, look pillowy and
paunchy, but they’re deceptively strong. We’ve all learned that the hard way.
Jaya slides back down, unperturbed by our guard’s violent outburst. “Okay. We’re definitely
underground in a cave or something, and it looks like there’s a lot going on out there. Some kind of
events. There’s fighting—”
“Oh my god,” Hannah whimpers, hiding her face in her hands. Her movement pulls our chain
toward her. Unlike Tamira, I don’t mind being jostled by it. I just feel bad for her. The only one of us
who has a child back home, Hannah’s had the hardest time accepting that she’s not going to wake up
in her bed again, no matter how many times she pinches herself.
Maybe it’s hitting her at this point, now that we’re going to be separated. Even if we knew where
we were in the universe, we don’t have any idea how to get back to Earth, nor do we know anyone
who can help us figure it out. Our focus has to be how to survive going forward.
Bree’s already wide eyes widen even farther at Jaya’s report, and her mouth drops open,
exposing the gap between her front teeth. She’s the youngest one here, only twenty-one, and her
freckles make her look naïve even though she’s definitely not. “Do you think they’re going to make us
fight each other?”
Next to me, Tamira snorts. “They did not drag you halfway across the universe to watch you
catfight. They could’ve done that any weekend at the club.”
“I don’t get messy like that,” Bree snaps, her voice as brittle as my nerves. “Just because I like to
dance doesn’t mean—”
“Quiet.” Jaya’s voice is loud enough that we all dart eyes at our guard, but his back is still to us,
attention riveted by the action outside. “They’re going to sell us. Who knows what happens after that.
It’s not worth thinking about. We only have one chance to make a break, and that’s when they take off
these.” She holds up her shackled wrists, raising her section of chain. “They have to separate us to
take us out there, so they’ll unlock the chain. The first chance is the best chance.”
“Got it.” Delphie sounds self-assured, as usual. A half-second later and her breath catches as she
raises her head to stare at Jaya. “But that means that only one group—”
“Right.” Jaya’s face is calm and determined, but I notice her hands are shaking. She clenches them
into fists. “One group will have a chance, and one group won’t. It’s luck of the draw. If the first group
doesn’t find a good moment to get out of here, then the second group will try.”
I nudge Lena with my toe. “Whatever happens, stick with me.” Lena meets my eyes with her pale
blue ones and reaches to give my hand a gratifying squeeze. She knows this is serious.
Jaya overhears me, and her face darkens. “If you have a chance to run, you take it. Don’t wait for
anyone else, just go. Swear it.” She glares at us each in turn until we murmur our promise.
I cross my fingers as I do. I won’t leave Lena behind. I never have, and I never will.
 Lothan
A KING NEVER APOLOGIZES.
My father’s words ring in my ears as I grip the cold armrests of my throne. “I’m sorry,” I repeat to
the Xaszian delegation that crowds the throne room, hissing the words even as they sicken me. “The
decision is not mine.”
The swarm queen’s ambassador smiles at me, flashing silver fangs, his forehead palpae twitching
forward as if sensing my weakness. “Are you not the ruler of the Five Planets now, Jara?”
Not for the first time, I’m glad for the dark throne that hides the flash of emotion that ripples
across my skin. It’s easy to see what Irrans are feeling by the color of their skin. Our skin never lies,
not without years of practice and training to master our emotions. But the clever Jara who built this
castle a hundred generations ago used blackrock for the throne. My dark anger is disguised against it,
passing for mere camouflage.
No one can hide behind their skin in this room—no one but me. Me, and these sparkly silver
bastards.
Perhaps that is why the Xaszians are so fearless. They are always this cool metallic tone. They
cannot change color like we can, blending our skin into any environment, but they can hide their
emotions behind their toothy, insincere smiles. I’d like to wipe them off their faces with the edge of
my blade.
“My father’s body is not yet cold. My brothers and I have not yet gathered to mourn him. And still,
you press me. Perhaps you think my grief is your advantage, but you play a foolish game.” I’m on my
feet without thinking, fury igniting in my veins, and their delegation steps back, their smiles fading as
they ready to fight. “If your queen wishes an alliance with the Five Planets, she will be displeased by
your strategy, for it achieves the opposite of her aim.”
“Our sincere condolences. Chanísh was a mighty emperor; forever may he reign in the stars,” the
ambassador murmurs, his palpae now smoothing back over his white hair in a gesture of respect. If he
does not fear me, he fears his queen. He does not bow to me as low as an Irran would, but he keeps
his eyes averted, although the drones assembled behind him continue to stare baldly at me. “We will
depart, and perhaps the next time we are near your star system...”
“Perhaps,” I agree. It would not be wise to alienate the Xaszians completely. Their queen has
expanded her territory to many of the star systems nearby, and those who do not ally with her are
often conquered instead. She only wishes to place a communications tower on one of our five planets,
to better contact the roving swarms on the edge of her territory.
She could ask for more—much more—and we would have to capitulate.
But until I know for certain that my father named me as his successor, I cannot speak for all my
brothers—my impossible, feuding brothers. They will never agree on anything. Until one of us is
emperor, there will be no peace between us.
The Xaszians make their exit, and as soon as they’re gone, I pace to soothe my hungry blood,
itching to follow them out, hunt down each smug, silver member of their delegation, and slit their
throats before they reach their ship in the spaceport. If they think my delay is due to weakness or
indecision, I would show them otherwise.
But my anger is misplaced. It was natural for the ambassador to assume that I would be next to
rule the Five Planets. I am the eldest. It is only because I know my father that I know it will never be
so simple. The mere thought of him makes my fingers curl into fists.
He loved nothing more than pitting his sons against each other, and he will delight, even as he
meets the goddess and his body is returned to starlight, in seeing us at each other’s throats.
Dorel, my advisor, the only one I fully trust in this palace, makes a polite noise from beside the
throne. “Perhaps we should fill the harem again, Lothan?” It is only because he has known me since I
was a greenling that he takes the liberty of using my given name instead of my title.
“What good would that do?” I snarl.
A gentle smile curves his lips, and the points of his teeth show. “The touch of a concubine has
cleared the skin of many a king. Your father had a daily appointment for that purpose when he
occupied this palace.” His eyes slide over me, and I realize my skin, rather than taking on the bland
beige hue of the sandstone walls around me, is rippling black and deep purple and charcoal, the
colors of rage and fear and dread. “It is an emperor’s duty to remain...calm.”
I stiffen, pushing down my emotions until I can barely see the difference between my feet and the
floor. “You would be wise to remember that I am not yet the emperor.”
Dorel’s smile disappears, and he bows deeply to show his regret. As he should.
I am not my father. I do not want to fuck away my feelings. I want to fight.
Chapter 2
 Ada
he cage door slides open, and our guard enters.
T “Come. Now,” he grunts, the translation brusque and painfully metallic in my ear as he
squints at us with all eight of his eyes. All the Frathiks look the same, so I can’t tell which one this is.
Like the others, he wears an orange leather belt around his hips and carries a long, silver bar as a
weapon, one I know he can electrify with a touch. Instinctively, we all shrink back, sharing a look of
fear and anticipation.
Jaya gives a nearly imperceptible nod as the guard fumbles with the keys. It’s time.
The Frathik glances back and forth between our two groups and then reaches for the chain
connecting me and Lena to Tamira, Hannah, Delphie, and Bree. I grab Lena’s hand as he unlocks it,
tensing.
“Now!” The instant Jaya’s command leaves her lips, we’re all on our feet, pressing forward.
Tamira dives past the alien, squeezing through the narrow space between his thick thighs and the
metal door. Her grubby pink shorty PJs snag on the latch, and for a second, I think that will be the end
of her escape attempt. But she yanks them free, leaving behind a scrap of fabric. One apologetic look
at the rest of us still behind bars, and she disappears.
The Frathik’s eight piggy eyes widen momentarily, and then he snaps into action, electrifying his
zapper thing. He swings it wide, making contact with the six women still locked together. A blue arc
of electricity travels down their chain, jolting them off their feet. Jaya’s breath comes out in a huff as
she lands on the dusty floor of our cell, her head lolling to the side.
Unconscious.
“Let’s go.” I yank Lena toward the door. We have a second, if that, to follow Tamira. But for
some reason, Lena doesn’t move, and then it’s too late.
The Frathik pushes me back so hard that I stumble, cracking my head against the rough stone wall.
He grabs Bree by the hair and yanks her out the door, slamming it behind him and engaging the lock.
Through the bars, I see she’s crying, tears cutting pale, freckled tracks in the dirt that covers her face,
and he twists his fingers in her strawberry-blonde hair even harder, making eight-eye contact with me.
He rasps something that doesn’t translate. I don’t know why they gave us these translators to begin
with. They only seem to translate about ten things. Come, go, up, down. Eat, sleep. Be quiet.
But I can tell what he means even without a translation, even with the noisy clamor of the auction
crowd drowning out the sound. It’s a warning and a threat. He’s coming for me next.
Tears sting the corners of my eyes and make my chest tight. I don’t know why, but this surprises
me. I thought I had already cried all my tears.
“Why did you stop? You were supposed to stay with me.” My question is whispered, and Lena
doesn’t answer. I turn and notice her a few feet away, crouched down by the unconscious women.
She looks back at me over her shoulder. “I couldn’t leave them. Not like this.”
Lena is a vet tech on Earth. When she sees a creature in pain, she tends it. Doesn’t matter if it’s a
human or a creepy space bug. I don’t think she can help it. It’s a good thing, too. She’s been the
closest we’ve had to a doctor since our abduction. But in this case, it stole any chance we had to get
away.
Lena smooths the hair back from Jaya’s forehead, fanning her until her eyes flutter open, her
pupils dilated and unfocused. When Jaya finally sits up, blinking, she heaves, vomiting into the dust.
One by one, the other women on her chain do the same. Wordlessly, Lena hands her the bucket of
stale water from the corner of our cell, and the women pass it down the line, scooping out handfuls to
sip or rub on their faces, color returning to their skin even as some of them sob quietly, shaken by the
experience.
Finally, Jaya croaks out, “Did it work?” She scans the rest of us and notices the Frathik guard did
not relock our chain. And there are only four of us in the unlocked group. Her face brightens.
“No. He took Bree,” Hannah says, her voice brittle as she hunches into a ball and wraps her arms
around her knees. “He got her.”
Delphie rubs Hannah’s shoulder blade in brisk circles. “It’s not all bad. Tamira got away!”
“Good. Maybe someone else can, too,” Jaya says grimly. But her eyes are far away, maybe
thinking of Bree’s fate, maybe from the electric shock, or maybe because she’s resigned to the fact
that if anyone else escapes, it won’t be her.
“You really think we’ll have another chance?” Andi, the curvaceous woman chained next to Jaya,
rolls her eyes. Then she jerks her foot away from Lena, who’s trying to examine her ankle. It’s clearly
swollen, even to my untrained eye. Andi grimaces with pain at the abrupt movement and grits out
between her teeth, “Tamira wins, we all lose. They’re gonna send like fifty marshmallow assholes
next time they open the door.”
I swallow, my throat full of dust as I touch the sticky blood matting my hair. If I’m next, as the
guard seemed to promise, I only have one more opportunity to escape. And Lena and I both have to
share it. We have half a chance each.
“Maybe Tamira will get help for us, somehow,” Hannah says.
Andi snorts. “That chick can take care of herself, but she’s not coming back for us. Nobody in
their right mind would even try. Would you please knock it off? I’m fine.” She glares at Lena, who
raises her hands in surrender and comes back to sit by me.
For the first time, she notices my injury and gasps, reaching to examine it. I shake my head,
sending a ripple of pain across my scalp and a gush of blood down the side of my head. “It looks
worse than it is. Listen, if we don’t get out the next time that door opens, we’re fucked.”
“You don’t know that,” Lena declares, her eyes wide and innocent, even after all we’ve been
through. I should take that as a marker of my success, that I’ve been able to shield her so well for so
long. But I’m starting to regret preserving her naivete. There’s a whole universe of shit out there, and
in about thirty seconds, I won’t be able to protect her from it anymore.
I don’t have the time or energy to argue with her, though.
The crowd outside hoots for more, and the Frathik who took Bree returns. This time, I know it’s
the same one because of the murderous glint in his row of beady eyes. Two more gray behemoths are
with him, blocking the doorway. No chance to get past them.
“Told you,” Andi mutters, watching me.
I ignore her, all my attention on the guard. When he moves toward me, I cling to Lena, digging my
heels into the dirt floor. I don’t care whether he leaves us both here or takes us both out there to sell. I
just don’t want to be separated from her.
He rips us apart like we’re two halves of a wet paper towel. I scream and claw at him, make my
body limp and heavy to buy one extra second so I can twist painfully in his grip and see Lena’s face.
Weirdly, she’s not freaking out. Her face is calm, and the last thing she says to me is, “It’s going to be
fine.”
But it’s not. She has no idea how much worse it can get.
 Lothan
I SMELL HER BEFORE I see her.
Above the murky background scent of the cave, above the dust of the pit, above the smoky tendrils
of roasted kvik being devoured by the raucous cranac assembled to watch the fights, above the sweat
of the hopeful fighters around me in the challengers’ pen, above the metallic tang of blood and money,
I smell her.
My mate. My fated queen.
My blood sings for her, pounding hot underneath my grasscloth cloak, and all I think of is finding
her. Taking her. She’s mine, and she’s here.
Somewhere.
I push past the hulking Frathik fighter in front of me and mount the stone post that marks the edge
of the pit, ignoring his grunt of annoyance that will probably spell trouble for me later, and scan the
cranac. There are not many females here, and the few I spot by their colored headscarves cling to
their males, hiding their faces from the gore of the current match that, judging by the screams, is
drawing to a close.
My mate is not among them. That I know. Yet she is here. I feel it in my blood and in my bones.
Her scent curls in my nostrils and wraps tightly around my heart, encouraging it.
Find me. Mate me.
I rotate and scan the levels above the arena, where the pitmaster’s champions grip the bars of
their cages, sizing up their potential competitors. They are hungry for blood, hungry to pay off the
debts that keep them imprisoned. Though it’s rare for a female to end up in a pitmaster’s cage, it
happens sometimes, and my heart swells with pride.
My queen must be a fighter.
Her scent, a spice I cannot place, reaches me again, but still I cannot see her anywhere.
Desperation deeper than any hunger grips me, and I leap to the ground, pushing other challengers
roughly aside until I reach the front of the line, hoping for a better view.
“A thousand pardons, Jara,” a lanky Irran says sarcastically, using my royal title as he blocks my
way. It is ironic that he does not know he truly speaks to the king. I snarl at him, and my claws
unsheathe, ready to tear his heart out.
Though rough language is common here in the pits, and spilling blood is prohibited outside the
ring, he seems to realize something about me is different. My threats are not idle. He steps aside,
mumbling an apology, just as the fight ends.
The pitmaster pays the winner a bag of coins, his prattle booming through the cave as the carcass
of the loser is dragged away, and then he turns to me, holding out his hand. I pass him my entry fee,
and he tucks it away in the elaborate folds of his deep red cloak. He has painted his exposed skin the
same color as his garment, the color of lust. Bloodlust, in this case. His version of my throne, I
suppose, since the paint obscures his true feelings.
And then I see her. Past him, at the far end of the pit, a beam of light from the cave’s entrance
pierces through the milling cranac and shines on a small figure on the debtor’s block. Instantly, I know
that this is my mate. This is the one who has been chosen by the goddess for my planet, for my people.
For me.
And in the same instant, dread fills my belly. She is not a fighter. She is not even Irran. And she is
for sale.
This cannot be.
 “And what will be your prize?” the pitmaster prompts. I realize this is not the first time he’s asked
the question, and the cranac has grown still and silent, waiting for my response.
Usually, I fight for coin. I have more coin than I could ever spend in my treasure house due to
Irra’s rich epylium deposits, so I don’t care about the amount. I only set the price high so the pitmaster
selects his best fighters as my opponents. When I win—and I always win—I slip the prize coins into
beggars’ bowls and the pockets of young mothers in the market on my way back to the palace. The
fight itself is my reward.
But this time, I’m fighting for more than sport. I point across the arena, to the trembling female
illuminated by the light of Alioth. “Her.”
The pitmaster raises an eyebrow, his red paint unable to conceal his surprise. I am a regular in the
pits, so I’m sure he knows my habits. “Her value is high.”
He has no idea how high. I incline my head, accepting whatever price he assigns her. It does not
matter. I will slaughter every fighter in the cave to win her if I have to.
He seems to consider my choice for a moment, then gives a nod of agreement, motioning for her to
be brought from the debtor’s block to his stand. I tense as she draws near, dragged by two Frathiks. I
want to tear their limbs from their bodies when I see how roughly they’re handling her delicate frame.
She is even smaller than I realized, weak and pale. She bares her teeth at them, and I see they are
blunt, like a baby’s milk teeth. Is she a greenling?
My eyes slide over the rest of her form. No, not a greenling. I let out a relieved breath. Beneath
her strange, ragged garments, I see luscious curves, the swell of her hips speaking to the pleasures she
will give me. The kings she will bear.
My body responds, my cock stiffening against the leather strap that holds it tight to my thigh, and I
push down my desire, willing my skin not to betray the passion coursing through me. There will be
time for that later.
A wall begins to rise from the floor, separating the two halves of the pit, and the pitmaster jerks
the female to his side, motioning the Frathiks back. My anger crests when I see blood staining the side
of her face. They’ve hurt her. They’ve damaged my queen, and for that, they’ll die as their planet died
at my father’s hands—annihilated by Irran rage.
But I know that if I lash out at the Frathiks now, I might never have a chance to win her. There
will be time, later, for revenge. I keep my skin a smooth, emotionless beige, the muscles of my arms
and legs trembling with the effort of control.
The pitmaster smirks, curling an arm around her as he surveys his caged fighters, selecting one he
believes can best me. Beckoning to an assistant, he murmurs his choice. I should be watching the
cages, sizing up the one chosen for me, but I cannot tear my gaze away from her.
Her fur is light, the color of dry grass. Her skin is the pale shade of shame, and she has no claws
that I can see. How has she lived to adulthood with no defenses or pride?
She lifts her head as though she’s heard my thoughts, meeting my eyes with hers and they pull me
like gravity. They are a strange, milky blue, like the Irran sky, and like the sky, Alioth’s fire burns in
them.
I am not wrong. She has been chosen for me by the star goddess herself. Gratitude and resignation
flood my body. Whatever she is, I have found my queen.
“He fights not for money, but for flesh!” the pitmaster announces to the cranac. They roar their
approval, stamping their feet. And when they see my opponent appear on the other side of the wall,
the noise swells, their voices weaving an excited chorus as they place their bets. The sound of coin
changing hands almost drowns out the thunder of my heartbeat.
 Today, I’ll show her my skill. Today, I’ll kill for her. Today, I’ll make her mine.
The bell sounds, and I throw off my cloak and enter the arena, dust swirling around my bare feet
as I step wide of the pitmaster’s stand, curling my fingers to suppress the impulse to reach out and
touch my fated mate.
“Good luck, Jara,” the pitmaster says as I pass. I pause, glancing up at him. The way he says my
title—this time, it’s not a joke. He knows who I am. And he wants me to know that he knows.
I only have a moment to wonder why before the wall between me and my opponent begins to
lower. I crouch, readying for what is to come, my senses heightening as I prepare for the battle of my
life.
The wall sinks into the dust and the bell sounds again. It’s time to fight.
I meet my opponent’s eyes. It’s only then that I understand the pitmaster’s game.
Chapter 3
 Ada
omething is happening.
S The Frathiks mutter angrily to each other as they cut short my auction and drag me off the
stage, across the arena to some tall, red alien who seems to be in charge. The crowd is watching me
now, with hunger in their eyes.
Hundreds of aliens, maybe thousands, fill the stands that line the walls of the giant cave. I don’t
see many Frathiks among the audience. This isn’t their home planet, then. It’s mostly some other
species, vaguely humanoid, with textured skin that seems to blend into the surroundings and wide,
expressive eyes.
At first, they look less scary than the Frathiks, and I almost relax. But then I see their teeth. Long
and pointed, they’re not so friendly. Not so safe.
The red alien closes his hand around my upper arm, pulling me into the folds of his rough robes.
The cloaked figure standing before him, the reason my fate has suddenly shifted, looks up at me, his
hood falling back slightly to reveal his bare scalp. He looks almost human, if I ignore the strange,
dusty color of his skin that matches the fabric of his cloak and the earth of the arena. His features are
sharply regal, impassive, like they’ve been cut from stone.
He’s larger than any human man, I realize. If I wasn’t on a raised platform, he’d be at least two
feet taller than me, and his cloak can’t disguise the breadth of his shoulders. His eyes are unlike any
I’ve seen before, like a pair of gray storms, their color shifting and swirling as they watch me.
What does he want?
Suddenly I’m hot, not like the arid heat that has sapped my energy since we landed on this planet,
but like my blood is literally boiling me from the inside, melting me. I want to strip off what’s left of
my flannel pajamas. Heat pools between my thighs, and I press my knees together, embarrassed.
I haven’t felt even a twinge of desire since my abduction, like I somehow left that part of me on
Earth, along with all my ex-boyfriends and my dead-end job. Why is it all flooding back now, when
several hundred aliens are watching me?
Great, outer space has turned me into some kind of exhibitionist.
Maybe it’s just relief, not desire. Maybe I’ve been afraid for so long that the lack of fear is
exhilarating. That must be it. Because, somehow, I know this alien, the one in the hood who is staring
at me like I’m a snack, is going to save me. He’s going to fight for me. And he’s going to win.
Maybe he can save Lena, too.
A bell rings, and he drops his cloak. I suck in my breath. He’s naked underneath, save for two
knives, one fastened to each thigh with leather bands. The hints of his form under the cloak are no
match for the reality of the muscles rippling under his changeable skin as he strides past us. He looks
like a god now, not a human.
And it’s not just the muscles. I bite my lip when I see what’s strapped to one of his legs along
with his knives. He’s fully erect—or maybe it’s always like that, I don’t know. Either way, it’s huge,
straining against the wide strip of leather, and I can’t help imagining what it would feel like sliding
between my thighs. My clit gives a buzz of approval. Yum.
Wow, I’m a total space slut.
My alien—I’m already thinking of him as mine—ignores a snide comment the red guy makes as he
takes his place. He doesn’t seem embarrassed at all to be naked as he crouches, every muscle tense,
waiting for the wall between him and his opponent to drop.
For the first time since I laid eyes on him, I’m afraid, because my inexplicable desire for him is
so strong. I’ve never been the kind of girl who checked out guys on the street or angled to sleep with
the hottest player on the football team or whatever. Usually, I have to get to know someone before I
feel even a hint of attraction. Mind first, heart second, body third. Or tenth.
Someone’s physical appearance is way, way down on the list of things I think are important. I’ve
known plenty of beautiful people who have ugly souls. In fact, the hotter the guy I’ve dated, the worse
he’s treated me.
But here I am, looking at the toned ass of the hottest guy, not on Earth, but in the entire known
universe, and I don’t even care that in a little while, once he murders whoever or whatever is on the
other side of that wall, he’s going to own me.
Bizarrely, I want it. I want him.
The wall comes down, and I drag my eyes away from his dick in time to see his opponent. When I
realize who he’ll have to beat, my heart stops. This is a fight he can’t win.
If he loses, he’ll lose me. And if he wins, he’ll lose me, too.
Because I cannot belong to someone who would kill a child.
 Lothan
THE GREENLING DRAWS the sword strapped to his back and hisses, exposing the gaps where his
milk teeth have fallen out and his sharp adult teeth have not yet grown in. His sword is barely longer
than my knives, and his skin ripples indigo with fear.
I wish I could gut the father who sold his son to pay his debts rather than the greenling before me,
but I cannot. At least, not now. I will have Dorel find him later and exact sufficient payment, by coin
or by blood.
The cranac is on their feet, roaring with one voice, “Kill, kill, kill.”
A quick glance at my little queen’s face tells me she can understand what they ask of me. Instead
of watching me with shining eyes, proud of her mate’s skill with a blade, she turns her head, sickened
by the sight of me.
The pitmaster motions with his hand. Get on with it.
I wish I could sink my blade into his throat, too. This is his scheme. He knew the majority of the
cranac would bet on me; no matter how brave this greenling may be, he is no match for a full-grown
Irran warrior, let alone someone as skilled as I am.
But, ever-crafty, he chose the one opponent I cannot bring myself to kill—an innocent. Plus, I’m
certain that his small jab—good luck, Jara—was a threat. Slay the greenling, and he’ll reveal that the
Irran king’s greed for flesh outstrips his honor. I will lose the support of my people in my bid for
Emperor of the Five Planets, a cost far too high.
There is only one choice. I must play his game. Kneel to the greenling, fill the pitmaster’s purse
with lost bets, and find another way to make my mate mine. He will sell her, of course, but I will
track her down, no matter where she is. No matter how long it takes.
And then I will kill anyone who harms her along the way.
Beginning with the pitmaster.
Before the greenling can reach me, I kneel and rub a handful of dust on my face to signal my
forfeit.
A coward’s mouth always tastes of earth, my father’s ghost shames me.
The tiny fighter pulls up short, makes a noise of frustration, and spits on me. He is right to be
angry. Winning by forfeit carries no honor, and his payment will be half a true win. But he has to
know he could not best me, even with Alioth at his back. I bend my neck so he can perform the
customary nick.
The silence of the cranac rings in my ears as I wait to feel the sting of his small blade. I can’t help
turning my head slightly, sliding my gaze to the pitmaster’s stand. Satisfaction thrums through me. My
queen is watching, riveted, the disgust vanished from her face. Beside her, the pitmaster’s twisted
smile makes me bite my own tongue to stop myself from rising to challenge him.
He likes his skin red, does he? Soon he will not need paint for that. His blood will stain him red
enough.
I hiss as the greenling takes his cut, and my blood drips into the dust of the ring.
“A forfeit.” The pitmaster’s amplified voice echoes around the cave as he holds out the payment
bag to the greenling, who snatches it with a glower before stalking back in the direction of the
champions’ cages. The pitmaster smirks down at me again. “It seems flesh does not call like coin.
Better luck next time.” He raises his eyes to the audience and makes a sweeping motion to his
assistants to close the barriers between the stands and the arena. “The pits are closed for today!”
Discontent rumbles through the cranac as they realize what has happened. The coin they placed on
me, the sure bet, is gone. And they have no more chances today to recoup it. The pitmaster motions to
the Frathiks to come reclaim the female and steps down off his podium, disappearing through a
doorway under the stands as a river of Irrans pours down the stairs toward the ring.
I quickly realize their ire is not reserved for the pitmaster. Now that he has conveniently vanished,
many of the glares are directed at me and many skins are shifting. They think the fight was rigged, it
seems. It is a natural assumption, given the strange series of events.
A fighter who does not wish for coin conveniently loses when matched with the weakest of
opponents? I would be suspicious, too, though I am a victim of the scheme as much as they are.
The champions rattle their bars, egging on the violence from the safety of their cages. No option
remains but to stand my ground and fight for my honor. Fight for my life.
I draw my knives, weighing my chances as I scan my fresh opponents. I don’t see many true
warriors among them. The Frathik I offended earlier could do some damage, but most of the others
are just ordinary Irrans, here to amuse themselves by watching the spectacles orchestrated by the
pitmaster. It’s likely I can best any of them, or perhaps all of them, if I fight them one-by-one.
But there are many, and anger is visible on their skin, even as their females scream for them to
stop. Some even begin fighting each other at the edges of the pits, arguing over who will scale the
barriers first. They want blood or coin, and my blood will do. Still, it is likely I will only have to kill
a few before the others lose their courage.
The scent of fear nearly barrels me over, and I jerk my head in time to see the Frathiks have
reached my queen. All sense of honor evaporates when they lay their hands on her. I’m pleased to see
her kick one in the groin, although it doesn’t stop him. Frathiks have thick hide, even on their balls.
My focus narrows to her. My Alara.
Suddenly, there is only one option, and it doesn’t involve the ugly drudgery of killing my own
people. I sprint for the platform where she stands, snatching up my grasscloth cloak as I run, my
muscles loose and easy, my blood singing with desire for my mate. Why am I concerned with honor in
this cranac of gamblers and thieves? The only honor is defending my queen—even if it means stealing
her.
My knives find their homes in two throats. The Frathiks are dead before they see me, and then she
is in my arms.
I run straight for the exit, delighting in the feel of her ribs expanding and contracting with each
breath, the rightness of her body pressed against me. She doesn’t struggle when I wrap the cloak
around us both, hiding her from view as I mount the barrier easily and push my way into the tight herd
of bodies.
Those closest to the arena are too busy fighting with each other to notice the female hidden
beneath the fabric of my cloak. I chose it exactly because it is one just like every other. Just another
fighter. Just another Irran.
Alioth lights my way through the mob to the mouth of the cave, and when I step outside, the
goddess rewards me with her bright smile.
She’s mine.
Chapter 4
 Ada
t all happens so fast I don’t have time to process.
I One minute, the Frathiks are taking me back to the cage, and half of me is ecstatic. Lena is
there. We’ll have another chance to be sold together. And the other half of me is furious. I can’t
believe that alien warrior set me up. He made me think he was going to help me, and then he took a
fall.
I’m just a pawn to all these aliens. An object. Worth money, maybe, but that’s it. Just a way to get
what they want.
At least he didn’t kill a kid, Ada, my inner voice nags me. That has to mean something about this
species’ ethics, right? They have some kind of moral code, which would be a big step up from the
gray marshmallow assholes, as Andi would call them.
But a second later, things are turned upside down again.
The fighter runs straight for me and freaking stabs the Frathiks in their throats. He grabs me so fast
I lose my breath and carries me away like I am a bag of groceries, and not even a heavy bag. Like, I’d
have more trouble with a gallon of milk than he has with me, and I’m not a small woman. I’ve lost
some weight since I was abducted, but I’m still what one of my foster mothers used to call “sturdy.”
He vaults over a barrier like we’re on an episode of Cops, and then everything goes dark. He’s
pulled his cloak around us, hiding me, protecting me from the brush of bodies with the arm curled
around my hips, holding me tight to him. Tiny pinpricks of light show through the weave of the fabric
like stars, and I can feel his steady heartbeat against my cheek as he moves through the crowd.
The vibration is so strong it reverberates through my whole body, kind of like when that Frathik
guard rang our bells in the cage. Except, instead of rattling my skull, this rattles my soul. And
apparently, I keep my soul mostly in my pussy.
I blush, remembering that he’s completely naked under this cloak, and squirm to put distance
between our bodies. His breath catches at my movement, and his grip on me tightens. The fabric of the
cloak suddenly glows, and I know we’re outside of the cave.
The sounds of the angry aliens fade, and other sounds take their place. The call of individual
voices. The noises of animals—none I’ve heard before, but I can imagine them like some kind of goat.
The clank of metal against metal, wood against wood. A baby’s cry.
And there are new smells, too. Dust. Animal dung. And food. After weeks of bland protein bars,
the scent of meat cooking makes my stomach growl.
We are in a town. An alien town on an alien planet, but it’s a town.
I want to cry with relief. In the weeks with the Frathiks, we never saw another soul. Sometimes
we would land somewhere, but the occasional glimpses we were allowed out the windows of their
ship only showed us harsh, unrecognizable landscapes. We didn’t even know if we could breathe on
those planets, let alone find a way to survive. But here, where there’s clearly some kind of
civilization, maybe we have a chance.
Maybe Tamira made it out of the cave and blended into the population here despite her ragged
PJs. If the rest of the residents of this town are anything like the alien who just kidnapped me, they
don’t care very much about clothes, anyway. It gives me hope.
The alien releases his grip on me, and I slide down his body, feeling every inch of him, until my
feet hit the ground, some kind of cobbled surface. My face blazes as I try not to look at the enormous
erection that strains urgently against its binding and brushes against my arm. I was right about his
height. The top of my head barely reaches the level of his nipples.
 The cloak parts, and my eyes adjust to the bright sunlight. We’re on a street barely wide enough
for the two of us. Doorways and windows are cut into a wall of stone. Small pots of herbs hang
outside the windows, which are covered with woven curtains that flap in the hot breeze that’s
whistling past the cliffside. If I didn’t know we were on another planet, I might think we were in a
Sicilian village.
I turn to see the rest of the city in the other direction and—it’s air. We are practically on a
precipice, high up what I now see is a stone mountain or plateau that rises in the middle of flat
grassland. We are hundreds of feet up, and the town, what I can see of it, clings to the side of it. If I
squint, I can make out spaceships landing on the flat plains far below us. I guess that explains the
long, blindfolded hike the Frathiks took us on in the dark last night.
I sway dizzily as I take in the view, and the alien steadies me by grasping my upper arm.
Oh, right. I’ve been kidnapped. Again. At least this guy seems nicer than the last guys. He reaches
up to touch my hair, wonder in his stormy eyes, and his skin, which up to this point has matched his
beige cloak and the pale stone of the building behind him, flushes lavender.
I gasp. “You can change color?”
As quickly as the color appeared, it disappears. He speaks to me as his fingers lightly brush the
painful lump that’s growing near my temple, but none of the words translate. He looks at me
expectantly, and I realize he’s asked me a question.
I shake my head, pointing to my right ear. “I can’t understand you. This thing is useless.”
He frowns, bending the shell of my ear slightly to get a better look at the device. He seems to
recognize it, his jaw tensing.
“Come.” With the single word, he motions for me to follow him and starts up the street. He’s
taking me somewhere, maybe to his home. For the first time, I wonder what he has planned for me. I
was so focused on getting Lena away from the Frathiks that I didn’t stop to think about why he wanted
me to begin with. Why he went to the trouble of saving me, if “saving” is what you want to call this.
I can’t think of any good reason. All I can assume is it must be a selfish one. If this alien was truly
in the fighting pit just to free captured human women, he would have saved all of us, not just me.
Maybe he didn’t know they were there.
“Wait. My sister is still back in the cave,” I say, but the alien is already almost out of sight and
doesn’t seem to hear me. Now that there’s more distance between us, it’s like I can finally think
clearly, and adrenaline floods through my body, turning my stomach. Lena is trapped there with that
mob!
What’s happening to her without me there to protect her?
I have to go back.
 Lothan
I AM PLEASED WITH MY queen. She gives a small gasp of delight when she sees the Irran plains
for the first time. Does she know what I know, that we are destined to rule this planet together, or is
she simply overtaken by its beauty, as I am with hers?
I would like to show her more, but we must return to the palace. She is injured. Her wound,
though ugly, would not be serious for a female of my species, but I do not know how it may affect her,
and I’m eager for my healer to examine it.
I ask her if she feels well enough to walk the rest of the way or if I should carry her, but she only
shakes her head.
“Cannuna-stanyah.”
I’m surprised when my language implant does not translate her lilting words. My city hosts
markets that draw business from many star systems, so I keep my implant updated with all the known
languages. She’s from somewhere very far away.
Her debt to the Frathiks must be great, if they have brought her this distance. Their planet
destroyed decades ago, they now live on their ships, transporting less advanced species in exchange
for credits, coin, and supplies. When their passengers cannot afford the fare, they are sometimes sold
into servitude until their debt is repaid.
Relief settles over me. That explains why my mate was up for auction. It will be a simple thing to
repay the debt and secure her release—not the temporary release I’ve supplied with my impulsive
act, but a legal one. It would be a different thing if her sale were due to a crime. Then, I might have to
return her to finish her reparations—or hide her.
I’m surprised she does not seem to comprehend my question, though. If she knew she would be
sold on this planet at the end of her journey, she should have had the Irran language installed. I check
her device and swallow my shock. It is one of ours—a crude, outdated military translator, equipped
with only the most basic battle commands. Before I was born, my father distributed this type of
translator to the mercenaries he hired to defeat the Frathiks, the very ones who blew up their planet at
my father’s command. This translator was likely harvested from one of the soldiers who’d died in the
invasion effort. The irony that the Frathiks repurposed them for their profitable trade is not lost on me.
My healer can give her a modern language implant at the same time he treats her head wound.
With any luck, we can discover her species and install her language in mine, as well.
“Come,” I urge her in the simplest words, hoping the old battle rig will translate. I lead her away
from the city center, toward the secret entrance to the palace I use when I want to come and go
unseen. The main entrance is too public, and I am too recognizable there, even wearing a warrior’s
cloak. When I introduce her to our people, it will be when she is ready, healed and able to understand
our language, clothed in more than rags. Until then, I will keep her safe from prying eyes.
I don’t mind having her to myself at first. A dark surge of pleasure snakes to my groin, stiffening
me even further, as I think of spending private hours with her. When she is introduced as Irra’s fated
queen, her attentions will be divided. There will be many obligations and events, and I know her love
for our people will rival her love for me. But until then...she is mine alone.
I glance back, hungry for the sight of her.
She is gone. The street behind me is empty.
A roar tears from my chest and blood rages in my ears. I’ve never felt the kind of anger and fear
that courses through me as I pick up speed, unable to stop the desperate sounds that still emanate from
my throat, drawing the attention of those I pass. I turn my head as I sprint down the winding main road
that clings to the side of the cliff, flicking my gaze to check down every narrow passageway and under
every market stall, honing my vision to track her grass-colored hair, her milky skin, the drab color of
her ragged clothing.
But my eyes only meet the bright headscarves of Irran females, the flash of coin changing hands,
the soft fur of braxas carrying goods on their backs.
She’s gone, truly gone. Did she run from me? Or was she taken? How could I have been so
negligent as to lose her as soon as I found her? Frix.
I stop, winded, my nostrils flaring to suck in as much air as possible.
Then I smell her, her unique spice. It is uncomplicated and pure—her—and I thank Alioth that she
is so rare her scent stands out among all others. She cannot hide from me. I follow my nose, picking
up speed as the scent of her strengthens, and then I see it—the quick flash of light ahead that tells me I
am close. We are almost back to the pits, I realize with a start. She’s returning to her captors.
Is it possible she prefers them?
The points of my teeth grind together as I catch up to her before she reaches the entrance to the
cave. My hand closes on her wrist, stopping her. She whimpers at my tight grip, her eyes wild.
“Pleez. Icanna-leefhur,” she pants, her eyes wild and desperate.
“You belong to me now,” I growl, wanton possessiveness reddening my fingers. It is not the color
of a king. I still my emotions and wrestle my thoughts into submission, and the hand that holds her
takes on the pale pink hue of her skin. She tugs away from me toward the cave opening, and beyond
her, I see slow, gray movement. Frathiks.
Frix. If they spot us, I will have to reveal who I am. Explain what I did. I scoop her up, ignoring
the stares of the kvik vendors around us when she protests. She struggles, but I pin her arms to her
sides and, wrapping my cloak around us both, run back the way we’ve come, her high-pitched
screams piercing my ears, drowning out even the whistle of the wind.
My chest thrums with satisfaction now that I have recovered my mate. She may not understand
who I am or what I am to her, but I will keep her until she does.
Chapter 5
 Ada
e’s just too strong. Or maybe I’ve been weakened by my time in space. Either way, it’s useless
H to struggle against his tight grip. It seems to take him no effort to carry me, even uphill, even
running. My screams fade into sobs that rack my body, and his pace slows. He releases one of my
arms so his hand can move up to stroke my cheek.
He freezes when he feels my tears and pulls aside the stifling cloak so he can see my face. I gasp
in the fresh air and piercing sunlight. A hot wind buffets my face and stings my eyes. We’re higher up
the cliff now than we were before. Instead of a row of doorways marked with signs and pots of herbs,
there are just rocks and spreading vines with narrow, silver leaves and tiny purple flowers. He’s
taking me somewhere away from other people.
That’s not good. When I took a self-defense unit in P.E., the teacher always told us, “Never go to
a second location. When an abductor takes you, the first location is always better than the second one.
The second one will be more private. The second one is to his advantage, not yours.”
I jam the heel of my hand up into his nose and twist, wrenching away from his body, hoping he’ll
drop me. No luck. His skin darkens for a moment, and his free hand flies to his face, checking his
wide, flat nose for breaks. I close my eyes, expecting him to punish me for the attempt, but he just
starts moving again, slower this time, and he lowers his head to murmur something in my ear over and
over.
Alara. Alara.
The rhythm of his words match the rhythm of his steps, and it’s oddly comforting. Give up, he
seems to be saying. So I do, at least for the moment. Maybe, if I don’t struggle too much now, he will
stop watching me like he did before and there will be another chance to run.
I know the direction of the cave where the Frathiks are keeping Lena and the other women, I
remind myself. It’s possible I can find them again. When the alien doesn’t pull the cloak closed
around me, I use the opportunity to watch the turns he takes in these narrow, winding streets so I can
find my way back.
Soon, he stops where the flowering vines grow thickest on the vertical rock face. With a glance in
either direction to make sure no one is watching him, he reaches under the vines, and the cliff face
falls away. It’s a door. A secret door, but one that doesn’t seem to be locked. That’s a good thing
because it means maybe I can use it to get out.
One good thing.
I cling to this little glow of hope as he ducks underneath the vines, but my fear grows. He could be
taking me underground, into another cave with something worse than an auction block and fighting pit.
A torture chamber, or even just his bed.
To my shame, heat flares in my body at the thought. What is wrong with me? Here I am, probably
an alien sex slave for the rest of my life, and I’m kinda into it. This is some Stockholm Syndrome or
some crazy alien pheromones or something.
Gross.
Pretty sure the novelty will wear off as soon as I see where he’s taking me. I brace myself for a
dark cave lined with creepy torture equipment or at the very least, dirty alien sheets on the real
version of that imaginary bed I briefly found so appealing before. But, counter to my expectations, the
short underground tunnel opens into an outdoor space.
Even on this alien planet, probably light-years from Earth, I recognize a garden when I see one.
Lush leaves and flowers line the circumference of the walled courtyard, and in the center of the stone
floor, a rectangular pool reflects the bright sun, flashing into my eyes when the water ripples. A
narrow, winding waterfall snakes down the rocks on the far side, forming a natural shower in one
corner. The water runs into a narrow channel that seems to irrigate the plants, and when the hot breeze
whips my face, I catch a sweet, lemony scent that must be coming from the blossoms.
Based on my quick perusal, the only two exits are the dark passageway we entered through, now
covered with vines, and another door cut into the cliff opposite us. He sets me down, and I wince
when my soles touch the ground. My earlier barefoot escape attempt apparently tore up my feet a little
bit.
He notices my expression, and his brow furrows. He surprises me again by kneeling in front of
me, lifting my feet gently to examine them, a flood of words accompanying his concerned look.
In one swift movement, he stands, plucking me from the ground again and dropping me into the
water. I screech, flapping my arms and legs to avoid going under. When I don’t drown, I realize it is
only about three feet deep and delightfully cool compared to the suffocatingly hot air.
He makes a low sound as he drops his cloak and sits on the edge of the pool, dangling his feet in
the water, too. He’s laughing at me. He pats the stones beside him, inviting me to sit, and I ignore him,
marching over to another section before plopping down, my cheeks heating.
Why am I embarrassed? I thought he was trying to drown me like a stray kitten. But this alien—
this male, I amend, flicking my eyes away from his obvious, growing erection as he stares at me
across the water—turns all my thoughts upside down. I trust him when I should fear him. I want him
when I should fear him. And right now, I am curious when I should fear him.
He’s ruthless but kind. He’s a seven-foot-tall, chiseled warrior who can hold me captive with one
hand, but he kneeled to a child’s sword. He stole me, but instead of locking me up like the Frathiks
did, he brought me to a beautiful garden.
I have questions.
“Who are you?” I ask. He repeats my words back to me in a strange, slurring accent. I pat my
chest. “Ada,” I say. Then I point to him, hoping he’ll figure out my meaning.
“Ada,” he repeats, placing his hand on his chest, his expression near reverent.
I burst out a semi-hysterical laugh, the sound bouncing off the walls of the garden. I don’t know
why it strikes me as so funny, his honest mistake, but I can’t help thinking how hilarious it would be if
this alien’s name actually was Ada, too.
He grimaces, his skin flicking one shade paler, just for a second. If I hadn’t been watching his
face, I might have missed it. He changes color when he’s feeling something, I realize. The light cream
color that tinged his features must mean embarrassment.
How human.
“I’m not laughing at you,” I reassure him. “My name is Ada. What’s your name?”
He presses his lips together, unwilling to try again.
“Come on.” I scoot around the corner of the pool so I can reach him. Dark butterflies flap a
sickening warning in my stomach as I grasp his hand and press it to my chest. His eyes flare and
darken as I repeat my name. “Ada.” I push his hand back to his chest and raise my eyebrows, waiting
for his answer.
 Lothan
SHE WANTS TO KNOW MY name, I realize with a burst of satisfaction. My chest swelling, I tell
her, “Jara Lothan, King of Irra, first son of Chanísh, Emperor of the Five Planets, may Alioth smile on
him and us all.”
Her tongue fumbles, trying to string together the syllables. Maybe it’s the sight of her blunt little
milk teeth, but it sounds like she is a babbling infant. My amusement must show my face because she
drops my hand, glaring at me.
“Ray-peetit.” My little queen knows how to give an order.
I decide to show her mercy and drop all my formal titles. “Lothan.” I reach out to touch her, my
fingers heating red as they graze her collarbone. “Ada.”
“Lothan,” she whispers, her fingers tentative against my chest as she holds my gaze for a long
minute. Then she drags her eyes away, her cheeks flushing pink. So her species cannot hide their
emotions, either. Does her pink means the same as mine? Does she desire me as much as I desire her?
She must, or she’d still be trying to run, wouldn’t she?
This is torture, being unable to explain myself. Who I am and why I essentially kidnapped her
instead of fighting to win her with honor. She must think poorly of me. I need to get her a proper
translator so we can have a proper conversation. And her head still needs attention. The healing pool
can only heal what it touches, so if she’s bleeding internally...
I check her feet, ignoring her puzzled expression, and when I’m satisfied with their condition, I
pull her out of the water, wrap her in my grasscloth cloak, and carry her across the courtyard. She
squirms and protests, not understanding our abrupt departure from the pool, but as soon as I retrieve
the hidden key from its compartment near the waterfall and open the door that leads to the harem—
and the winding staircase that connects it to the palace—she stills in my arms, relaxing into my chest
as I take the stairs two, three, eight at a time.
I take her straight to my healer’s chambers inside the palace, keeping her hidden from view with
my cloak. The few Irrans I pass avert their eyes respectfully, but I do not want them seeing even a
strand of her hair until they know who she is, who she really is.
The first fated queen our planet has seen since Alioth ignited my grandparents’ bond.
Few living Irrans remember being ruled by a true queen. I myself do not. My grandmother, the last
Alara to rule Irra, died before I was born. My father, Chanísh, was not blessed to find his fated
queen. Though he sired six sons with concubines, he never found the happiness of a true mate bond,
and our people suffered for it.
I burst into Joorn’s chamber without announcing my presence. He looks up from his grasspaper
scrolls, his irritated expression at being interrupted transforming when he sees me. He jumps to his
feet and bows low, the long sleeves on his green healer’s robes brushing the floor. “Jara. May Alioth
smile on—”
I grunt impatiently at his niceties as I set Ada down on the plush cushions in the center of the
room, interrupting him. “She is hurt. Fix her.”
Joorn peels back the cloak. Though his face is impassive and his skin doesn’t ripple, the
momentary pause when he sees Ada’s face gives away his shock. But he quickly gathers himself,
inspecting her obvious head wound. Though she shrinks back, her eyes wide with fear, she allows
him to clean her injury and apply a sticky balm.
As he busies himself checking over the rest of her, making notes in his comm device, he asks me,
“Do you know her species? I see she has a translator already. Of sorts, anyway.” His mouth twists,
probably remembering the many alien mercenaries he treated during the war when he served my
father. I’d hoped he might recognize her for that reason—he has probably treated more species than
any other healer in the Five Planets.
I give a brief shake of my head. “My implant doesn’t recognize her tongue, so her star system must
be quite far. I was hoping you might have her language somewhere in your archives.”
He arches an eyebrow. I can see Joorn is intrigued by the opportunity to examine a new species,
but his tone is matter-of-fact. “Who brought her? Perhaps you can ask them and save us time.”
“Frathiks. They had her on the debtors’ block.”
He flashes his teeth, and I hiss in agreement. He finishes his examination and steps back, looking
thoughtful as he tucks his hands into his sleeves, a healer’s habit. “She appears healthy. Perhaps a bit
undernourished, but given her long journey, I have to say, my compliments to the Frathiks.”
I growl without thinking, imagining those thuggish aliens around her. Their species is not known
for kindness, and it’s not surprising to hear they may have cut corners when it came to feeding their
passengers. But if Joorn is correct, they did not damage her permanently, and they did bring her to me,
so perhaps I should be thanking them.
Joorn’s attention is on his comm device as he accesses the language files. “Can you coax her to
say a few words?”
“Ada. Speak for me, Alara.” Her name is sweet on my tongue, and her eyes flick to me when she
recognizes it, her lips parting slightly. I can’t resist the urge to reach out and brush my thumb across
her soft upper lip. The feel of her skin there—so delicate and smooth, thin enough that I can feel the
blood pulsing in her veins—sends a lightningquake through me. She sucks in her breath, which gives
me even more pleasure because it means she feels it, too.
Joorn is staring openly now. “She is your Alara!”
“Yes.”
“I thought her some new concubine. A plaything.” His words are thoughtless, as unfiltered as his
frank gaze.
“She is your queen. Do not spit in Alioth’s eye, or you will feel her teeth,” I hiss out. Ada shrinks
back against the cushions, putting as much distance as she can between the two of us, and I
immediately regret my harsh tone.
Joorn drops into a deep bow. “My apologies, Jara. I meant no offense. I was merely overtaken by
shock at the goddess’s generosity. I will notify the Eye.” He moves toward his communications
console, and my arm whips out, stopping him.
“Not until she is ready. I will not introduce my queen in rags, unable to understand her people.”
Nor will I put her at the mercy of the priests before she knows the true extent of her power. She
speaks for the goddess, not them.
“Of course.” Another bow, shallow this time, lets me know he is merely placating me. “If she will
say a few words in her language...”
I gather her in my arms as easily as a sheaf of tili grass and murmur against her cheek, “Say a few
words so my healer can find your language in the archive of tongues.” I pull back so she can see me
and motion between my mouth and ear, hoping to convey my meaning. “I want to understand you, Ada.
I want to know your heart. Please, speak for me.”
A king never begs. My father’s voice echoes in my head, but I push him away. He never held his
fated queen. Perhaps if he’d had his Alara in his arms, he’d feel differently about begging.
Chapter 6
 Ada
hear my name in Lothan’s waterfall of words, but I have no idea what he’s asking me. The alien he
I brought me to is clearly some kind of doctor because my head feels better after he put the goo on
it. Instinctively, I like him. He’s smaller than Lothan, and his expression is less terrifying. Lothan
looks at me like he wants to eat me, but the green-robed alien is merely curious. And he seems to be
waiting for me to say something.
I take a deep breath and gather my courage, even though I know my attempt to communicate is
useless. “I don’t know what you want. I’m just scared, and I’m worried about my sister, and I can’t
tell if you’re going to hurt me.”
Lothan’s face splits into a sharp-toothed smile, and his skin pulses lavender. Maybe he does
understand me—maybe he’s happy I’m afraid. I shrink away from him, toward the doctor alien, and
Lothan’s smile disappears, his muscles tensing as his skin darkens to charcoal.
The doctor murmurs something in a soothing tone and pokes at the screen of what looks like an
iPad. Lothan isn’t soothed. The two of them have a tense exchange, and then the doctor puts down his
tablet and reaches out to me, his face sympathetic.
It’s only then that I see the needle in his hand. Crap.
I duck and roll off the cushions, bruising my knee on the stone floor in the process, and make a
dash for the door. Lothan catches me easily. I don’t think he even moves, just reaches out a hand and
plucks me off the floor so my legs pinwheel crazily in the air. He pulls me close to his body,
clamping my arms down so the doctor can administer the shot into my freaking head. It stings, and I
close my eyes, accepting my fate.
I knew this nice-alien act was too good to be true. Lothan probably dragged me off and fixed me
up so he could eat me or rape me or something worse that I can’t even imagine because it’s some
weird alien shit. I brace myself for unconsciousness, but it never comes.
When I open my eyes again, Lothan is staring down at me in his arms with an amused expression
on his face, and the doctor is fiddling with the translator stapled to my ear. Removing it, I realize. He
chucks it into a hole in the wall that must be the trash receptacle.
Whatever. It was a piece of crap anyway. If I never hear its ugly buzz again, I’ll be happy.
The doctor wipes my ear with gauze. When it comes away red, Lothan’s arms tighten around me,
pulling me into his chest, and the doctor rolls his eyes. A giggle rises in my chest. Of all the gestures
to be universal—the eye-roll.
Intense pressure on the side of my head sobers me. I only have a second to obsess over the idea
that it’s a mind-control device before Lothan speaks again.
“Alara? Are you comfortable or does it hurt?”
I suck in my breath. He’s speaking English!
No, I’m being stupid. The doctor guy must have given me a new translator—a better one. My hand
goes up, fingering the new device. It is much smaller, tucked inside my ear canal. Definite upgrade.
“It doesn’t hurt. I think the shot is still working, whatever that was. Thank you,” I add to the doctor,
who just gives me a bewildered smile. I really wish they would stop smiling at me. Those pointy
teeth are not reassuring. “I left my sister back at the—cave fighting place, whatever that was. I need to
go back and get her before they take her somewhere else and I can’t find her.”
Lothan sets me down. “Apologies.” His eyes flick shut for a second, and he seems to wince at the
word. His skin settles into the grayish-beige color that seems to be his default setting before he opens
them again. “Your language is not in the archives, so I cannot understand you yet, but at least this way,
you can understand me, and perhaps we can find a way to communicate.”
Great. I can understand him perfectly, and he’s going to guess at my meaning based on caveman
hand motions or something. This is like every relationship with a guy I’ve ever had. I point to the
door. “Please, can we go back to the place where we were before?”
The doctor clears his throat. “Perhaps she would like a tour of the palace.”
I jerk my head toward him. Did he say palace?
Amusement plays on his lips. “And perhaps you should introduce yourself again, Jara.”
 Lothan
I STRAIGHTEN MY SHOULDERS. “I greet you, Ada from Elsewhere. I am Jara Lothan, King of
Irra, first son of Chanísh, Emperor of the Five Planets.”
Her jaw drops and she looks to Joorn, much to my irritation. He shoots me an apologetic look and
bends into a low bow, as befits her rank. “I am Joorn, his healer.”
“Djoosay keen?” she blurts out. It’s clear she’s surprised by my status. I thought she might guess
once we entered the palace, but perhaps she assumed me merely a worker here. Or perhaps the cloak
prevented her from seeing the extent of it. Joorn is right. A tour of her new home will put her at ease,
and some small part of me hopes seeing the palace will impress her and soften her toward me. By the
time we reach the bedchamber, I hope she will be very soft.
“Shall we?” I ask thickly, struggling to suppress any indication of my desire. It takes all my
control to keep my skin in check. She inches toward Joorn, looking doubtful. She prefers him. My
hand tightens into a fist, and I don’t care if my dark flash of anger shows. Let it.
“She may be tired,” Joorn says to me. He is excusing her hesitance for my benefit, I can tell, but
when she nods an agreement, I relax. Perhaps her rejection is merely exhaustion.
“I will show you to your rooms. You can bathe there and rest.” She looks at her hands when I
mention a bath and then smooths her ragged, dirty clothes self-consciously. I offer her the grasscloth
cloak, and she wraps it around herself, hitching up the extra length and following me hesitantly from
Joorn’s chambers out into the main hall. I’m careful to keep space between us, hoping to earn her
trust.
Though this is not the real tour, I wish to orient her, so I murmur the names of rooms as we pass:
the map chamber, the throne room, eating spaces, the archive. She seems interested, glancing into the
doorways when I say their names. But when we reach the staircase to the royal apartments and I step
aside so she can ascend first, she hesitates.
“Yurrum?” she asks, clutching the cloak tighter around her shoulders.
“The royal bedchambers,” I explain. She draws back, shaking her head. She is fearful, I realize.
She thinks my intentions are not honorable. What did the Frathiks do to her during that long journey to
make her so suspicious of a king? Whatever it is, they will pay. My breath hisses out. “You will be
safe. No one will disturb you unless you permit it. I give you my word as Jara.”
She gives me a terse, wary nod and mounts the stairs. I follow her, my nostrils flaring as I catch
her scent, the spice that drew me to her even from across the arena. I hope the bath will not wash it
away completely.
I want a taste.
My skin reddens in approval of the idea, and I force myself to look away from her swaying
bottom in front of me and instead watch her small, pale feet on the stairs. When we reach the top,
where another hall stretches in two directions, she steps aside, looking up at me. For the first time,
it’s with something other than fear. Her lips press together briefly, and I wonder if I have given away
my desire. I want nothing more than to kiss those lips, feel them part beneath mine, hear her breathy
sounds of enjoyment as I take her mouth.
She flushes and pulls her eyes away, gesturing to the doors that line the hall. “Nao-wayr?”
After a split-second of indecision, I show her to my quarters. The Queen’s chambers have been
unused for two generations now, and I have no idea how they are outfitted. Though my staff is
thorough and Dorel’s attention to detail is minute, I want to inspect them myself before Ada sees them
for the first time.
 Her eyes widen when we enter, taking in the huge sunken, circular bed that takes up most of the
room, leaving only a narrow frame of stone floor around it. It is an unusual feature, a quirk of my
father’s, but of course she does not know that. She’s new to my planet and cannot tell what is usual, I
remind myself.
“My father designed it to fit all of his favorite concubines,” I explain. Her lip curls with disgust,
and I feel a flood of shame. Why did I tell her that she would be sleeping in a bed designed for
concubines? Of course, it is not fit for her, a true queen.
Something in her face changes. “Notya-folt.” She reaches out a hand and brushes it against my
upper arm, studying my skin. Immediately, I stiffen, pushing down my emotions until it settles, taking
on the hue of the sandstone in this room. I have not wrestled with my thoughts like this since I was a
greenling. She must think me uncontrolled, immature.
“I will have it replaced immediately, Alara,” I assure her. I show her the bathing pool and how to
work the controls, and then I leave her, sensing she wishes for privacy, though it is the one thing I do
not want to give her.
Everything else, yes. But leaving her, even only to go into the next room and scrub the dirt of the
fighting pits from my skin, is more difficult than I could have imagined.
Chapter 7
 Ada
lock the bathroom door behind Lothan—he shows me how to operate the mechanism as he’s
I leaving, although I’m sure he has a key to every room in this place. He and Joorn called it a
palace, but it’s unlike any palace I’ve seen on Earth. Not like I’ve been inside a lot of palaces, but
even ones on TV or in the movies don’t look like this.
But then again, I’ve never seen a king who looks like Lothan before, either. No crown, naked,
turning every color of the rainbow. I’m not in Kansas anymore, am I?
No, I’m in a palace, apparently. There are no ballrooms or chandeliers here, and the rooms
themselves, though there are many, are oddly shaped, more like pockets cut into the rocks of the cliff.
None are square. They are barely furnished, just a cushion here, a table there, lit by large windows
that look out over vast grasslands and narrow shafts in the ceiling that let in the light from above.
Each room is only large enough for a few people at most.
With the sun streaming in, it’s weirdly...peaceful.
The largest room I’ve seen so far is the bedroom we just came through, the one with that...pit in
the middle that Lothan said was some kind of orgy bed. I assumed at first that he had similar plans for
me, but when he paled all over, I recognized the color of his embarrassment. I guess maybe he and his
dad didn’t see eye-to-eye on the whole concubine thing.
Lucky me. Really. I finally relax a little bit. Whatever Lothan’s plans are for me, he doesn’t seem
like he has ill intentions. He reverted to some stiff kind of formality after I touched him, so I’m not
even sure he’s interested in me physically now that he’s gotten a closer look.
Or a closer smell. I wrinkle my nose. I really do need a bath. The Frathiks sometimes gave us
towels and a pungent chemical solution to wash with on their ship, but it was difficult to get truly
clean without water. Plus, they tended to pick the cleaner women to take off into private pods, so a lot
of us didn’t bother washing up in the hope it’d kill their interest and we could stay together. It worked
—some of the time.
Nausea swirls in my stomach at the memory, and I try to push it away. I don’t let myself feel any
relief at being out of their clutches, though, not while Lena is still chained up in a cave somewhere. I
need to bathe, cute myself up, and then try to use body language to convince Lothan to go rescue her.
He’s a king, right? He should be able to pull some strings and get her out. Maybe he could buy her
and the other women, too. Obviously, there’s room in the bed for a few more. My skin prickles at the
thought of Jaya and Andi cuddled up among the cushions with my alien king, and a tiny growl escapes
me.
Jealousy? I laugh in disbelief, the sound echoing around the stone room. I am not jealous. I’m just
tired, hungry, sun-addled, and traumatized. One thing at a time, and the first thing is a bath. A large
pool steams in one corner of the room, tempting me into its depths.
Big enough for a king and all his concubines, I think wryly. This bathtub would be right at home
in a Vegas party suite and probably has seen just as much action. But that doesn’t stop me from
dropping my gross pajamas on the floor and slipping in.
The water hisses as I enter. There’s some additive in it that makes it smell slightly medicinal, the
feel of it thick and pleasantly slippery between my fingers. I sink into it up to my neck and let the heat
seep into my bones, steaming the space grime out of my pores as I stare out the window next to the
pool.
I can see the current of the wind passing over the grassland far below, swirling it in patterns, and
if I didn’t know better, I’d think I was looking at a pale green ocean. It’s soothing to watch the little
ebbs and flurries, and the tension drains from my muscles. My eyelids drift closed for a moment.
I jerk awake as I slide into the water and it touches my lips. It tastes terrible, like bitter, salty tea,
and I sputter and sit up. I don’t know how long I dozed off, but the sun has moved. I scan the area
around the pool and, spotting a selection of colored powders in shells along the edge and hoping they
are soap, pinch a small sample of the purple one between my fingers.
It lathers up nicely, so I scoop a whole handful and apply it to my hair, gleefully creating a pile of
lavender bubbles that float on the surface of the water as I rinse them out. My scalp begins to tingle,
and heat spreads down my neck until my whole body is suffused, flushing my skin.
I swish my hands through the bathwater, enjoying the look of my pinkened fingers under the
surface of the water and the feel of the silky bathwater flowing between them. I can’t help thinking of
the many colors Lothan has turned since I met him. Pale cream for embarrassment. Lavender, red, a
charcoal-gray so dark it’s nearly black. Each color brings out something different in his form, setting
off his striking features or highlighting his lean, muscular body in a different way. I’m sure I’ll learn
to interpret them all eventually.
I shake my head. What am I talking about, eventually? I’m not staying here. For a second there, I
forgot I don’t live here. Not in this room, in this palace, nor on this planet. I can’t get distracted just
because hot alien king is being nice to me. I have to find Lena, even if it means going back to the
Frathiks. As soon as Lothan’s not looking, I’ll be gone.
Will he ever stop looking, though? He never seems to take his eyes off me. The intensity of his
gaze does things to me that I don’t want to admit, but maybe here, in the privacy of this bath, I don’t
have to deny myself a little fun. I’m allowed to fantasize about sexy aliens, right? Especially ones
who change colors when I touch them.
My hand slips beneath the surface of the water, trailing down my stomach and teasing between my
folds to find my clit. I gasp when my fingers brush against it, already pulsing and swollen. I’m not
sure I’ve ever been this turned on before. I pant, trying to keep from crying out as I circle my fingers
around the sensitive area. The pleasure is overwhelming, a full-body rush. Even my scalp feels like
an erogenous zone. Especially my scalp, weirdly. It’s like my whole head is a clit—
Crap. That purple stuff. It’s some kind of freaky galactic aphrodisiac, and I’m the sucker who
rubbed it all over her body. I stumble out of the bath and over to the shower in another corner. It’s
designed to look like a natural waterfall, kind of like the one in the garden we came through.
Thankfully, Lothan showed me the hidden controls in the rocks, and I turn the water on full blast.
It tumbles down the stones, splashing me and leaving me breathless. The water’s cold, but I stand
underneath it anyway, letting it rinse away any traces of the purple powder and chill my skin until I’m
shivering. So stupid, getting carried away like that. I should know better.
When the last spark of my desire is doused, I shut off the water and wrap myself in one of the thin
cloths that seem to serve as towels here. It looks like loose, rough weave, almost like linen, but it’s as
soft as silk against my skin and absorbs the moisture instantly. When I use it to blot the water from my
hair, I’m surprised it’s nearly dry when I’m done.
Above the rack of towels, there’s a shelf of glass jars that I can only assume are toiletries. I’d like
to put some of the creamy lavender lotion-looking stuff on my skin, but the purple color makes me
suspicious it might do the same thing to me that the bath powder did, so I don’t. My eyes fall to my
clothes on the floor.
Clothes. More like rags. Once pale pink, flannel pajamas, they’re now faded and so dirty I can
barely make out the little crowns printed on them. Lena picked them out for me for Christmas as a nod
to my day job as a birthday party princess. I’m sure she never thought I’d end up wearing them to an
actual royal palace. She would laugh so hard if she knew.
Tears sting my eyes as I pick them up with two fingers. Eyewatering stench rolls off them, weeks
of fear and dirt ground into them, and I can’t bring myself to pull them on over my clean skin. I settle
for wrapping another one of the towels around myself. Maybe I can borrow something from the naked
king. If he has any clothes, he sure doesn’t seem to be using them.
I unlock the bathroom door and brace myself to withstand Lothan’s intense gaze and
mouthwatering muscles on the other side. But to my relief, the room is empty. And someone has
brought in a small table and placed a wicker stool topped with the skin of a fluffy animal beside it. I
guess that’s why all the rooms are empty in this palace. They just move furniture in and out as they
need it.
On the table is a small stack of folded fabric, a glass of pink bubbly stuff, and a plate topped with
flat, pale green, oval things that might be food? I sniff them and my stomach growls, so they’re
probably edible, even though I don’t recognize them as any kind of food on Earth. I tentatively nibble
the edge of one.
Surprisingly, the delicate wafer melts on my tongue, releasing a delicious, unfamiliar flavor that
reminds me of a combination of parsley and basil. I put the rest of it in my mouth and chew as I shake
out the top piece of clothing.
It’s a dress—sort of. More like a long vest, sleeveless and open in the front. It’s made of the same
off-white fabric as the towel but a finer weave, and it’s so light that it’s almost transparent.
It’s going to show everything. I might as well go around naked like Lothan. I blush in spite of
myself and try the next piece of clothing. It’s basically the same as the first but in a dusty rose shade.
Folded underneath it are some long, narrow, rectangular pieces of fabric in a few different colors.
Before I can figure out how it all goes together, there’s a gentle knock at the outer door, and it
cracks open. A feminine voice asks, “May I enter your chamber, Alara?”
“Ada,” I say automatically through my mouthful of green crunchy thing. The crack in the door
widens, and a female alien steps through. She’s the same species as the king, I see. She’s tall like
him, and her bare arms are muscular, although not as muscular as his, of course. And she’s much less
naked, too. She wears a wrap top and loose trousers that closely match her skin tone and has a brown
sash tied around her waist. A scarf in the same shade is wound around her head. A few strands of
dark hair escape it.
So that’s what those rectangles are for—sashes and headscarves.
She dips into a low bow, and suddenly I’m conscious I’m standing there in a towel. She doesn’t
act like there’s anything odd about it, though. She keeps her eyes on the floor, even as she gives me a
tentative smile. “My apologies. My name is Mooni. Jara Lothan sent me to help you dress. He was
unsure of your preferences, but he hopes these will suffice while your other clothing is being
laundered.” Her gaze drifts to the dirty pajamas I dropped on the floor.
I give an embarrassed cough. “Oh, those are just pajamas. Sleeping clothes,” I explain, when she
gives me a confused expression. “I think they’re beyond help at this point. I know it’s weird, but I’d
like to keep them anyway. They were a gift.”
She bows low again. “My apologies,” she repeats. “I do not yet understand your language, but I
will serve you as I am able.”
Oh, right. Nobody can understand a freaking word I say. Great.
“Would you like to dress?” Mooni’s eyes crinkle kindly as she stands again, motioning to the
clothing I’ve already unfolded, and I realize she’s older than Lothan. If these aliens age anything like
us, she’s maybe old enough to be his mother. That, combined with her caring tone, make my throat
ache for my own mom.
It’s funny how, no matter how long my mom is gone, no matter how I’ve stepped into her shoes for
Lena, I still want her. Her name is still the first one on my lips after I have a bad dream. Or when I get
abducted by aliens and taken halfway across the galaxy, I guess. I swallow hard, not wanting this nice
alien woman to think I’m ungrateful for her help. Obviously, I need it.
I nod, and she picks up the white garment. When I drop the towel and she sees my naked body, her
dark brown eyes bug out slightly. I wonder how my anatomy differs from their species, but I don’t
have time to be too embarrassed. She recovers quickly, holding the dress out to me so I can slip my
arms into it. She puts it on backwards, pulling it closed behind me, then holds out the rose version the
opposite way, arranging the open edges a few inches apart in front.
She indicates the stack of folded scarves. “Which color do you prefer? Irran women typically
choose a sash to match their eyes, but it is simply a fashion, and you may choose what you like. When
I was young, we hardly had a choice. It was brown or white unless your parents were diplomats.
Lucky me, my eyes are brown.” Her laugh is surprisingly musical, making me forget any
embarrassment I felt earlier.
I look over my options. Most of the scarves are shades of blue, I realize. Lothan must’ve selected
them himself or told Mooni to bring that color, since she hadn’t seen my eyes before she walked into
the room. How thoughtful of him.
Eager to distract myself from the flood of warmth I feel at the idea that he noticed and
remembered the color of my eyes, I point to the one I think matches them the best. Mooni smiles
approvingly as she wraps it twice around my waist and then ties it in long loops to one side. The sash
forms a wide band from just beneath my breasts down to my hipbones, highlighting my curves. It’s
quite pretty, something I could imagine wearing on Earth, and the light fabric is incredibly
comfortable.
“Shall I arrange your fur now, Alara?” Mooni asks. She smooths the fluffy pelt on top of the
wicker stool and produces a comb from a hidden pocket in her wrap top. I start to say that I can do it
myself. But she pats the stool insistently, so I sit.
“Why does everyone keep calling me that?” I ask as I feel the comb slip through my hair and
scrape lightly down my neck. I know she won’t answer. She has no idea what I’m asking. “Alara”
probably means something like alien. I’m as alien to them as they are to me, if her expression when
she saw me naked is any indication. As I gaze out at the magnificent view through the window in front
of me, I wonder if I’m the first human she’s ever seen.
“Leave that to me.”
The deep voice from the door startles me, and I turn my head in time to see Lothan pluck the comb
from Mooni’s hand as she backs hurriedly out of the room, murmuring a goodbye. I don’t even have
time to ask her to stay; I’m just left alone with the alien king, who stares down at me, his gray eyes
darkening as his high cheekbones take on a lavender tint, reminding me of the purple powder in the
bath.
I look away, feeling a rush of heat that makes me clench my legs together at the memory of how
that stuff affected me. At least Lothan has clothes on now. A silver-embroidered sleeveless tunic is
open in the front and shows off his warrior physique. The soft gray trousers underneath keep me from
thinking too hard about the delicious-looking dick he had strapped to his leg before.
Damn it, now I’m thinking about it. Why is he so distracting?
I sense rather than see him step closer. He’s near enough that I can smell his fresh, herbal scent
and feel the heat rippling off his skin. Without speaking, he gently repositions my head, and the
comb’s teeth skid across my scalp and then tug through my hair.
Sticky-sweet desire spreads down over my body in a slow slide, like he’s poured honey over me.
It weighs down my limbs, makes my tongue numb, and my thoughts go thick and dreamy. I know I
should stop him. I should try to make him understand that Lena and the other women are still captive,
but I can’t make my mouth form words. There’s no air left in my lungs.
I don’t have time to catch my breath before he repeats the motion. Somehow the sensation
multiplies, tightening my nipples to aching points that scrape inside the fabric of my new dress. I can’t
stop the shudder of pleasure that ripples down my spine, and a breathy moan escapes me.
Lothan steps closer to me at the sound, and any doubt I had before about whether he is attracted to
me vanishes when his rock-hard cock momentarily presses between my shoulder blades. It takes
everything I have not to lean back against him to feel it again.
Another drag of the comb from my hairline to the collar of my dress, and another impossible,
exponential layer of need drips downward over my breasts and belly to pool hot between my thighs. I
want him to slide that hardness against me. Slide it inside me. The mere thought of it makes my core
clench.
Ugh, what is happening to me?
“I shouldn’t want this,” I finally choke out, even as I writhe in my seat, grinding my pussy into the
fur until I can feel the hard wicker underneath in a desperate attempt to appease the intense craving.
His breath hisses out and he leans down, words hot in my ear. “I can smell your hunger. Let me
satisfy you, Alara.”
His offer makes me whimper. I can’t even remember what I wanted to tell him now. Does it even
matter what I say if he can’t understand me, anyway?
Maybe I should just give up. It would feel so good to give in. It would be so easy.
He rakes the comb through my hair again. But this time the teeth catch on a knot. Blessedly, the
tiny burst of pain jolts me back to reality. I can’t succumb to selfish sensation. Not when my sister is
still in danger.
I bolt upright from the stool and grab one of the scarves from the table, twisting it hurriedly
around my hair in a rough approximation of Mooni’s style. “That’s good enough,” I say, my cheeks
flaming as I avoid making eye contact with him. I can’t believe how my body responds to him. It feels
so potent, like I’ve been drugged. Maybe that purple powder is still having an effect on me.
“Take it off.”
My heart thuds. My hands instinctively move to the knot at my hip, toying with the ends of the
sash, and it’s crazy, but I almost pull it free so I can shrug the double-layered dress to the floor.
What’s gotten into me? Am I so conditioned by my time in captivity that I just automatically
follow orders? A male quirks a finger, and I strip?
Anyway, he probably meant the scarf I just wrapped around my head, not all my clothes. I came
this close to really humiliating myself.
He glowers at me, motioning to my head. “Off. Now.”
My stupid pussy says do it. Do whatever he asks. And I want to—God, I want to. What would that
make me, though? A bad sister. A bad person.
Then he growls. Literally growls, clearly unhappy about my reluctance to obey him. And even
though the sound of it practically vibrates my clit, I’m glad I didn’t immediately do what he asked. I
put my hands my hips and glower right back at him even though every cell in my body is still tingling
and begging for his touch.
When I meet his eyes and shake my head, he pushes up from his seat and storms out of the room
without a backward glance.
Freakin’ entitled, arrogant king.
Chapter 8
 Lothan
tear apart the queen’s quarters, pulling linens and toiletries out of every drawer and cabinet until I
I find what I’m looking for: the shallow, wooden box carved with the royal crest. There is no dust
on its surface, despite the fact that it has been stored for decades. The toiletries I’ve scattered on the
floor are fresh, too, I realize. Dorel has kept these rooms ready all these years, hoping I would find
my Alara.
Humbled by his dedication, I return to Ada. She still has that scarf on her head, covering her
mane. Somehow, I find it infuriating that she would hide her beauty this way. She needs to understand
who she is.
She shrinks away from me when I move toward her, her wary gaze going to my hands. When she
sees it’s just a box, she relaxes somewhat, although she edges around rim of the sunken bed, putting
the width of it between us.
She must’ve expected me to come back with shackles or a weapon to punish her, I realize. My
anger has frightened her. I have frightened her.
Ashamed by my lack of control, I set the box on the table and motion her toward me. “Do not fear
me. I will never hurt you, Alara. I only brought you a gift.”
Something tugs at her expression. “Wussett meen?” she asks, tilting her head. “Alara. Wussett
meen?”
I take advantage of her curiosity and sit down on the stool, hoping the posture is less threatening,
and beckon her closer. “Come to me, and I’ll tell you.”
She moves cautiously, and when she finally is within reach, I impatiently pull her onto my lap,
nearly groaning at the press of her body through the thin fabric of her sveli.
“It means you are mine,” I grit out, gripping her hips. Frix, I am moving too quickly. She is
trembling, but one of her hands brushes over mine, tracing the shape of my claws. I withdraw them
and feel her relax into my chest.
Mine. I can hardly believe she is here, in my arms. I nuzzle against her neck, scraping the points
of my teeth against her skin. Her scent—her natural spice and the herbal bathwaters mixed with
something else familiar—curls around me. I unwind the scarf and free her golden hair. The familiar
fragrance that floods my nostrils gives it away, and my eyes widen as I realize what scent is
intertwined with hers. Tantu berries.
She must have discovered the tantu powder in the bathroom. She had a very relaxing bath, indeed.
My cock stiffens again at the thought of her pleasure, and I’m pleased to see her nipples harden
through her sveli when she feels it pressing against her. Despite her reluctance to admit it, she’s not
immune to the pull of our connection. And she’s definitely not immune to the feel of my cock.
She wiggles against my lap, welcoming my hard length between her thighs.
I lose control. With a roar of desire, I gather her in my arms and tumble with her into the pit of
furs in front of us. My body presses hers into their welcoming softness, and for once, I’m glad I
haven’t done away with all my father’s improvements to the palace.
Ada wriggles underneath me, tugging my face toward hers, and I give in, devouring her mouth,
letting my tongue show her what my cock longs to do. My little queen opens for me, warm and
delicious, letting me explore her. I can feel her heart beating beneath my vibrating chest as her tongue
darts to feel the points of my teeth.
She shivers, and I pull back. “Do you they frighten you, Alara?”
“Doneet mee,” she pants, pressing her hips against me as she writhes. I can feel the heat radiating
from her core. It isn’t fear she’s feeling but desire that matches my own. I give silent thanks to Alioth
for choosing such a perfect mate for me. Her eyes flutter shut, and her hand slips down to skim over
my tunic, parting it so she can feel my chest. I hiss when she passes over my heart and it squeezes
painfully, and a smile quirks her lips.
She does it again, and I pounce, claiming her mouth and letting my teeth settle into her lower lip,
pressing into the skin without puncturing it. Her breath stutters.
“Do you like that?” I breathe into her mouth. She arches into me with a moan, and male
satisfaction makes my cock twitch. My voice is a growl now. “Would you like to feel my teeth
elsewhere?”
“Mhm.” She draws in a sharp breath when I hold her wrists above her head and jerk her sash free
with the other, pushing aside the pink outer sveli that I selected to match the flush of her cheeks. The
inner layer is nearly transparent, and I can see the dark outline of her nipples through it, their points
tenting the fabric above the swell of her breasts.
With a groan, I close my lips around one of them. A whimper escapes her when I let her feel my
teeth through the fabric, and she stiffens.
Immediately, I release her, searching her milky blue eyes for any hint that I’ve taken things too far,
my fingers moving reflexively to soothe the bite. “Have I hurt you? Should I stop?”
She shakes her head, catching her rosy lower lip in her little blunt teeth as she arches into my
hand. “No, more.”
I don’t need a translator to guess her meaning. “More?” I ask, the strange word twisting on my
tongue. I lower my head to her other breast and skim my teeth across the pebbled tip as I gently pinch
and roll the other nipple in my hand.
“More,” she pants.
I release her wrists and move lower, licking and nipping her through the sveli as I make my way
down her body, learning the landscape of her breasts and belly with my fingers and my mouth. She’s
so soft and defenseless, it’s almost unbelievable that she can exist.
My fingers find the hem of her garment and push it up, finding a path to her heated center. I’m
gratified when I feel evidence of her arousal in her slick folds.
She wants me.
I let my fingers explore her newness, circling each feature, pressing into her core, searching her
face for her response to learn what she likes. One spot, a hard little bead at the top of her cleft, makes
her eyes squeeze shut, so I focus my efforts there. “More, Alara?”
She doesn’t answer in words, just a string of noise, and I laugh, pure delight flooding my every
vein as I bury my face between her thighs and use my tongue to retrace the path my fingers have taken.
She tastes pure, salty and sweet like the oceans of Olethia, and I get lost in her depths. Whatever
dreams I harbored of finding my queen someday, they are nothing compared to this. And this is just
my first taste.
“More,” she demands, grasping my ears to pull me closer.
My little queen is greedy. She knows what she deserves. I smile against her, letting my teeth graze
her more sensitive spot, and I feel her tip over the edge. She shudders, pulsing and writhing away
from my tongue, but I wrap my arm around her narrow waist, pulling her firmly against my mouth so
she can’t escape her pleasure.
Her sounds nearly drive me to spill my seed among the furs. When she whimpers and plucks at my
arm, I raise my head. “More?” I ask.
Our one shared word makes my heart race. I may not survive a whole vocabulary.
 To my disappointment, she shakes her head. Her cheeks are darker than the sveli now, and the
beautiful blush has spread down her neck and chest. I may need to select another garment for her to
match this shade, if it can be captured.
Her eyes are wide and wondering as she pushes up onto her elbows, a cascade of words tumbling
from her lips. Questions, I can tell. Ones I wish I could answer.
I sit up, savoring her taste still on my lips, and her eyes wander to the outline of my cock, still
painfully erect in the confines of my trousers. She reaches for me, but I block her hand.
Her expression shifts to hesitant, and she pulls the outer layer of her sveli closed, her movements
instinctive and unconscious. I tip her chin, so she looks at my face instead. “Not this time. I won’t take
you until we can understand each other perfectly, Alara.”
More questions. My frustration builds as she talks on and on. Finally I catch her meaning when
she repeats, “Alara. Wussett meen, Alara?”
I leave the bed momentarily to retrieve the box from the table and return, kneeling in front of her. I
open it to reveal an intricately decorated gold circlet, the crown worn by my grandmother and all the
other fated Irran queens before her. Ada’s eyes widen as I lift it from its resting place and bow,
holding it out to her. She takes it hesitantly, tracing the circumference with her fingertips.
It pleases me to see it in her hands as I explain, “An Alara is a queen, but more than that. She is
the manifestation of the star goddess on our planet, fated to rule the Irrans and bring her blessings to
us. Alioth has chosen you to rule alongside me, Ada.”
My head still bowed, I wait for her reply.
But it is nothing like I expect.
Chapter 9
 Ada
drop the crown like a hot potato. Lothan just dished me up a bunch of word salad. Even though I
I have a new and improved translator, I only caught about half of it. My head must still be fuzzy
from the earthshaking orgasm this hot alien dude just gave me, but it sounded like crazy talk. I scoot
back, staring at the gold circle nestled in the plush fur of the bed.
Did this alien just claim that I’m a queen? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I might
wear a crown every day on Earth, but it’s plastic. I make minimum wage plus tips to squeeze into a
polyester party dress and light birthday candles and wipe the noses of four-year-olds, that’s all.
Chosen by the goddess, my ass.
“That some kinda line,” I say, shaking my head. There are players on every planet, I guess. He
probably tells all the women he brings to this orgy pit that they’re his queen. I scrabble for the sash
and unsuccessfully try to tie it the way Mooni did. I settle for something more Pirates of the
Caribbean than Princess Bride, then climb out of the bed in an attempt to reclaim some of my dignity.
“I can’t believe I fell for this. Are you even a king? I am such an idiot.”
“You don’t believe me.” Lothan picks up the crown, running his fingers around its inner edge,
frowning.
Correctamundo, Captain Obvious.
“I don’t even believe in an Earth god, let alone some alien star goddess. And I’m sure as shit not
taking your word for it.” I pick up the headscarf he pulled off earlier and wrap it around my hair
again, ignoring the pulse that quickens between my thighs when he stands up and moves toward me,
his movements efficient and predatory.
Turn down the dial, space slut.
I carefully avoid eye contact with him as I scan the rest of the room. “Do you have any shoes
around here, or do you aliens not wear shoes?”
He watches me silently as I search the few storage places built into the wall. No luck. I point to
my feet and then to his feet, which I notice are also bare. “Shoes,” I say loudly, in the firm tone I’d
use with a small, misbehaving toddler. “Do you have them? Do they exist here? You have spaceships,
you must have shoes!”
He reaches out, lightning fast, and pulls me close so I can feel every hard inch of him against me.
An involuntary shudder ripples through me as I remember how skillfully he dismantled my defenses. I
was practically begging for his alien dick, and I literally met him two hours ago when he stole me. He
forces me to look him in the eye.
“You are my Alara,” he says, the possessive note in his voice unmistakable. “It is the truth. I
know you feel it, too.”
I tighten my mouth, shaking my head. I feel a lot of things right now—my pussy feels a lot of things
right now—but the line between truth and fantasy has gotten real fuzzy.
“I need to go.” Shoes or not, I can’t risk this distraction. If I stay here any longer, I’m going to
forget myself, and as long as Lena is still captive, I have one job. And spoiler alert, it’s not ruling an
alien planet because that is not a thing.
I peel his arms away and head for the door. A millisecond later, he’s blocking my way, standing
between me and the only exit. This guy is fast. Scary fast. I push against his chest, and it’s like
pushing against a marble statue. “Move. I’m leaving. You freed me, right? So now I’m free.”
A charcoal shadow ripples across his skin, and his jaw tightens. “Alioth has chosen, whether you
like it or not. It isn’t a request. You will stay here and rule Irra beside me. The goddess decrees it,
and her teeth are sharp.”
“Your teeth are sharp, you mean,” I say bitterly, even though I know he can’t understand me. It’s
not like I can fight against the super-strong, super-fast alien who, if he is to be believed, commands an
entire planet. I won’t let him see me cry, though. I’ve cried out all my damn tears. “I thought you freed
me, but you didn’t, did you? You just took me because you think your goddess told you to, and now
you’re telling me that for the rest of my life, I have to stay here and do what you say. That sure sounds
like slavery to me.”
He eyes me like I’ve somehow disappointed him, sucking in his cheeks. Then, to my surprise,
amusement quirks his lips. He crosses his arms, although not the human way, but gripping his biceps
with each hand. “Where will you go, anyway? Here, you have shelter. You have food. You have fine
garments.” He leans closer to me, so I can feel the vibration of his words in my ear. “You have
affection. What else could you desire? Whatever it is, I will provide it, I assure you.”
Man, he knows how to push my buttons. It takes everything I have not to lean in and rub against
him and show him exactly what I desire. Instead, I take a step back. “My sister is still being held
captive by the Frathiks, as I was. I need to be with her. The longer I stay here, the more likely it is the
Frathiks will sell her or leave this planet, and I’ll never see her again. Thank you for your hospitality,
but I need to go to them, now. Please, let me go.” I stamp my foot, hoping my urgency will translate.
His whole body, which has been alive with playful energy, goes eerily still, and his skin turns
black. That can’t be good. “You speak of the Frathiks again. You wish to return to them?” he grits out.
I feel balanced on the edge of one of his knives. Any answer I give is wrong. If I stay with him, I
will never see Lena again. But if go back to the Frathiks, I may never see freedom again.
Then again, I may never see freedom here, either. This teasing, sexy, rainbow-colored alien king
has been kind to me, but he can absolutely change his mind at any moment. When he gets tired of me,
he can toss me off this cliff or chain me in a cave, and who’s to say I can keep an alien happy,
anyway? I can’t seem to keep a regular human happy, if my dating history is any indication.
I give a single nod. “Yes. That’s what I want.”
“I see.” Many long minutes of silence follow while he stares out the window behind me, and I
have to remind myself to breathe. Finally, something in him breaks, and his posture shifts. He drops
his arms to his sides, and his skin resumes its default shade that matches the walls around us. His face
is impassive, his gray eyes clear, his back straight. And for the first time, I truly believe he is a king.
“So you’ll take me to them? The Frathiks?” Without thinking, I step around him and move toward
the door.
Whip-fast, his arm circles my waist, pulling me back. He searches my face and, seeming to finally
find what he was looking for, growls a single word. “No.”
And just as fast, he leaves me, and the door locks behind him. I try the handle, even though I know
it won’t open. Just like that, I’m a prisoner again. Looks like I’ve lost my sister and my freedom in
one go, which is pretty much par for the course lately.
It was stupid to think Lothan would be my knight-in-shining-armor. If my little jaunt across the
universe has taught me anything, it’s that there are no good guys. There are no pure motivations.
Everyone wants something, even me.
I start looking for a way out.
 Lothan
I AM ANGRY. IMPOSSIBLY, volcanically angry. It fuels my furious sprint up the spiral stairs to the
top of the plateau. When I emerge inside Alioth’s temple, I storm back and forth in front of the altar,
my skin searing hot and a hundred colors. I don’t even try to tame it.
“How could you? You give her to me when her heart belongs to them? How can she rule Irra
when her loyalty lies with the Frathiks?” I spit the words at the golden eye set into the stone above the
altar, its open pupil shining a beam of light so bright I’m blinded when I raise my face to it. I look
away. “Your teeth are sharp, I know. I just did not expect them to spill the blood of my people. Your
people.”
Perhaps my father was right. He always claimed that Alioth withdrew her favor when his older
brother, Oljin, was abducted by a Frathik military faction. When my father took the throne in Oljin’s
stead, he declared war on them, defeated them. He destroyed their planet, reduced it to rubble and
ash, and still the goddess did not smile. My father believed this was punishment because he failed to
rescue Oljin.
Alioth wanted more amends from him. Desperate, he proposed peace with the Frathiks. His
mercenaries would stop hunting their ships if they shared their space travel technology with Irra. They
were only too happy to accept those terms, even if it meant my father claimed the moons and other
habitable planets in our star system in Alioth’s name.
He established settlements and markets and temples across the star system, grew the priesthood
into a cranac. But still, the goddess was not satisfied—not enough to assuage my father’s guilt and
grief, anyway. Not enough to give him a fated queen.
The last years of his life were a desperate bid to regain Alioth’s affection. When my brothers and
I came of age, he installed us as Jaras on our respective planets, calling himself emperor of all five.
He then took up residence in the space station that houses the Eye, the most devoted of the priests of
Alioth, and serves as their monastery.
There, he had no concubines, no pleasures except his unobstructed and ever-present view of the
star goddess. There, he did little but pray. There, he died, still without her favor.
And now Alioth tortures me in his stead.
I drop to my knees, prostrating myself before her, murmuring my words against the star-warmed
stone. “O Alioth, light of my humble heart, who brings us life and takes it. Smile upon your servant.
Illuminate my path and leave the rest in shadow, so I may follow where you guide me.”
I wait there, repeating my prayer, for hours, and when her eye no longer pierces the golden pupil
on the altar and the stone begins to cool, I scrape the dust from the floor and rub it on my face.
All I can do is forfeit to her mercy.
Chapter 10
 Lothan
n the morning, Dorel is wisely silent until our bird has left the spaceport and is well and truly
I outside of Irra’s grasp. Finally, with a sidelong look at me, he says, as though I’ve asked, “Mooni
will keep her company. She will be well looked after, and she will not escape.”
He means Ada. I did not return to her after I left the temple. I spent a restless night in the guest
quarters, imagining her with the Frathiks, comfortable and happy in their strange, cold grasp. It was a
nauseating thought, but no less nauseating than keeping her locked up against her will.
Somehow Dorel knows it still bites at me. It is a generosity on his part, sending his wife to attend
Ada. Mooni will keep her occupied and safe, so I nod as though he has reassured me, keeping my
eyes forward, at least as much as I can.
Alioth’s light makes me squint, but I can make out the distinctive pyramidal shape of the Eye
ahead. Its dark, outer panels are only visible as the absence of stars, a blank stare designed to conceal
the true size and shape of the space station inside. We must wait for permission to enter, and then one
of the hidden ports in the glossy, black exterior will open for us.
Dorel seems relieved to put the matter of Ada behind us. “We must discuss your first act as
emperor.”
“I may not be,” I remind him. “Do not spit in Alioth’s eye by presuming her will.”
He chuckles like I’ve given the punchline to a joke. “It is your father’s will I worry about, not
hers. I do not wish to presume, merely prepare for all outcomes. If not a certainty, it’s still a
likelihood that you will be named emperor. After all, who else?”
I flash him a look. “Do you forget my five brothers?”
“Never. They are sons to me.” Dorel speaks the truth with confidence. With no greenlings of his
own, he was perhaps more present during our upbringing than our father. He was the one who held us
on his knee and told us stories about the saidals that prowled the grasslands, hunting our people, and
about our royal ancestors who built the cliff city to keep us safe. He was the one who tended our
wounds after training and soothed our skins when we raged against the unfairness of the Jara’s
commands, persuading us that it was all for our own good. That even injustice was a lesson.
I finger the outline of the knives strapped to my thighs under my loose trousers. I do not expect
combat, but neither do I wish to be caught without them. It was always a favorite pastime for my
father, seeing us fight. He encouraged it. I carefully slit the side seams with my claws so I can draw
them if necessary.
Dorel catches my movement. “You can best them all if it comes to that. I have no doubt.”
A laugh escapes me. Now he’s the one being funny. “Even Thren? Even Nik?”
“Thren is stronger, it is true. But he lacks nuance and patience. If you can wait until his strength
flags, you will win.”
“And Nik?” The least like my father, Nik is patient, perhaps to a fault. And he is singularly skilled
when it comes to fighting. In fact, he trains most of Irra’s assassins, teaching them the arts of stealth,
weaponry, and hand-to-hand combat on his bare, frigid planet where there are no other distractions.
Training is his obsession, maybe because there’s nothing else to do on the icy ball of rock he calls
home.
“Nik will kneel to you. He has no real interest in being emperor.” Now Dorel’s eyes are ahead,
and I can tell he doesn’t want to reveal how he knows this. My advisor has been busy since my father
died, I now see.
“And my other brothers?” I ask carefully, finally spotting what has captured his attention. Several
birds like ours wait for admission, too. The Eye has kept us all waiting, reluctant to show any of us
special attention. “Are they also eager to step aside?”
Dorel sweeps his gaze back to me. “Kyaal accepts your rule, if you allow him to bury his head in
the sand of his beloved desert and don’t bother him unless you need his blades. And Fenix prefers
peace above all. He will defer to anyone who provides it, whether you or another.” His tone is dry,
nearly bored. It’s clear this is not the first time he’s pondered this question. I’m beginning to suspect
he has done little else but maneuver my position in the week since my father expired.
“What about Lyro?” My hotheaded youngest brother. My father’s pet. I can’t imagine him
relinquishing the emperorship, and he’s just crazy enough take a gamble on beating the rest of us,
believing my father’s smile even brighter than Alioth’s. If the emperor’s last words direct us to fight
one another for his throne, Lyro will fight.
Dorel grunts. “What of him?”
“He will challenge me. It’s a surety.”
“Remember, he has no planet.”
With six sons and only five planets to distribute between them, my father kept his favorite son as a
companion on the Eye. Lyro lived among the warrior priests of the Eye as one of them, when he
wasn’t sewn to the hem of the emperor’s cloak. All the priests do is train and pray, so his focus and
skill as a fighter has likely grown since I saw him last. Plus, he has had no lonely concubines in his
bed nor squabbling merchants in his ear to distract him. “Perhaps the lack of planet makes him more
dangerous, not less.”
“Ah, but if you become emperor, you can give him one.”
“How so?” I ask, but Dorel is distracted when a sleek voice lets us know we’ve been approved
to enter the Eye, and he doesn’t answer me, too busy guiding us toward the port that slowly opens and
then closes behind us.
As our bird glides to its roost and priests form a half-circle a respectful distance away, their
heads bent inside their black hoods, his meaning becomes clear. Dorel thinks I should rule the Five
Planets as my father did. Relocate to the Eye. Allow Lyro to take over my place as Jara of Irra.
A bribe. My whole life, my home, in exchange for my father’s power. A power I’m not even sure
I want.
“I won’t do it.”
Dorel turns a mild eye on me. “Reserve your judgment until it’s required.”
I grimace at the truth in it—it’s something my father would never say, so perhaps I should
consider it. But I shudder at the thought of leaving my sweet, fragrant planet for this chill, sterile box.
He continues, “The throne may be worth the price. Imagine the alternative. Keep your palace at
Loth’Irra. Keep your fighting pits—”
“You know about that?” I blurt out as the door of our bird hisses open.
He coughs, hiding a laugh. “Everyone knows. As I was saying, keep your familiar comforts, but
be ruled by another. You’ve had a taste of that already. Whatever your father was, Lyro is...more.”
A compliment to another’s ear, but not to mine. He’s right. My father was devout, but Lyro is a
zealot. He will shape the Five Planets to his whim, without compunction, because he believes the
goddess guides his hand. Sickness building in my belly, praying the answer is no, I ask, “Does he
even want Irra?”
Dorel is halfway down the ramp but pauses. “You will have to ask him that. But think of it as
another blade on your thigh. You can use it if you have to, and its edge may deliver the most painless
cut.”
 I nod and start to pry more into his dealings with Lyro as we descend, but he flicks the membranes
of his ears twice, indicating that I should be mindful of my words. The Eye sees much, and I know my
father had surveillance over every inch of the space station. Even if the ears present cannot hear me,
ears elsewhere surely can.
The circle of hooded figures surrounds the two of us, our silent escort through the dark glass
passageways. Though my father occasionally invited me here—an invitation I could not refuse—it’s
an unfamiliar path to the throne room. I suspect my father planned my bird’s entry for a different roost
at every visit, so my route inside would never be the same.
As we make turns along the way, I try to memorize them, but it’s impossible. The black glass on
every surface makes it unclear where doors open or where one-way windows look out on us, and I
unconsciously caress my blades through the gap in the side seams, uncertainty prickling the back of
my neck as I anticipate the fight to come.
I have to win. If I don’t, I’ll be at the whim of one of my brothers, and none of them will be kind
to me. Why should they be? They are my rivals.
It will do me no good to walk into the throne room with fear-dark skin, though. Settling my
emotions, I remind myself what Dorel said, that my sharpest blade may be diplomacy.
But the thought flies out of my head when I notice Thren approach from an intersecting hall with
his own circle of monks around him. He looms over them, so they resemble nothing more than flies
swarming around offal. He could swat them away in an instant, if he chose. Diplomacy is nothing to
him, just an annoyance, no match for a deadly weapon.
He bends his head to me a scant grasswidth. Even this small gesture of respect appears to pain
him. “Jara.”
I return the greeting with what I hope is more grace and add, “May Alioth smile on you.”
“And us all,” he grumbles. “We’ll need it. What do you think our bastard father has in store for
us?”
Unlike me, Thren came without his advisor, who surely would have warned him against this kind
of risky speech. Dorel elbows me, a subtle gesture to remind me that this is only bait, designed to
draw me out in ways that will expose my belly. I don’t care. I take it.
“Knowing him, he’ll want us to shed blood. Each other’s or someone else’s.”
“We can only hope.” Thren’s eyes gleam. He always did have a taste for blood.
More clusters of priests appear, my other brothers and their advisors embedded in their midst. I
greet Kyaal and Fenix warmly, clasping their arms. Nik offers me a silent salute, keeping his distance.
I don’t blame him. The bile is rising in my throat, being surrounded by all these shadowcloaks.
“We’re only missing one,” Thren says, craning his neck to see down the passageways that lead to
this junction. “Where is that little shit?”
One of the priests pulls back his hood, and Fenix jumps back. “Frix, Lyro, you sent my ghost to
R’Hiza.”
Lyro gives him a dark, triumphant smirk, but it is wiped away when the black glass in front of us
swings open, revealing a pitch-dark room.
A voice echoes from inside. “Enter, sons of Chanísh, so the light may reach you.”
The throne room, then. We file in solemnly, keeping as much space between us as possible. Our
priestly escorts disperse down the labyrinthine hallways, and the room’s outer wall of dark glass
suddenly switches to clear, allowing the full force of Alioth to blaze on our astonished faces.
The priest beside the empty emperor’s throne tucks his hands into his sleeves, rocking on his
heels with satisfaction at our reactions. His hood slips, revealing the low forehead and sharp features
of Zomah, High Priest of the Eye. He stands behind a glass capsule that contains my father’s body. I
drop to my knees, touching my forehead to the floor out of respect.
My brothers do the same.
“Rise, Jaras, and hear the last words of your emperor.” Zomah spreads his arms wide, motioning
to the six chairs spaced around the circular table in the center of the room.
My father rarely met with all of us at the same time. He preferred to speak with his sons
individually, usually because he had a different version of the truth for each of us. Today, we will
hear a common truth, it seems, which means it is one that will certainly set us at odds.
When we take our seats, Dorel stands behind me, his hands resting lightly on the back of my chair,
and my brothers’ advisors take their cue from him and do the same. Only Thren and Lyro sit alone,
and for a brief moment, I pity them. But then Zomah sweeps the sleeve of his cloak in a gesture
encompassing all the standing males.
“The emperor’s last words are for his sons alone. I will escort the rest of you to the archives.” He
hands Lyro a device and then waits placidly for the advisors to obey. Dorel makes a reluctant noise in
his throat, but I nod to him, and he goes, once again prompting the others to mimic him.
When the black glass door closes seamlessly behind them, my brothers and I have the illusion of
privacy. I have no doubt someone is watching us. Probably Zomah or one of the other high priests. It
matters little. They already know what we are about to hear.
“Prepare yourselves,” Lyro says, his voice bitter, and I wonder if he knows the last words, too.
He may have been at my father’s side when they were uttered.
“At least remove your shadowcloak before we begin. Pretend you are one of us, for once. Or have
you forgotten that you, too, are a son of Chanísh?” Kyaal narrows his eyes across the table, and Lyro
gives a hollow laugh.
“Am I your equal now?” Despite his mocking tone, Lyro sheds the rough, black garment.
Underneath he wears a black sveli, designed to be dropped in an instant, with nothing underneath but
blades. A warrior’s garment. A priest’s garment. He will not kneel to any of his brothers, not without
a fight.
Frix. I knew I shouldn’t have worn these stupid trousers.
Thren hisses a warning, but Lyro ignores him and presses the device. The room’s bright windows
shutter, and for a split second, we are in complete darkness. Then the windows flicker to life again,
forming a large screen.
My father appears on it, and it’s everything I can do to force myself to look at his sallow face,
tinged orange with pain that even his great will cannot suppress. I hardly recognize him. He is
wasted, his hollow cheeks dry and splitting, and when he speaks in a brittle voice, his teeth show
with the effort.
“I am Emperor Chanísh, ruler of the Five Planets, only son of Grenzar, Jara of Irra, and Honhura,
Alara of Irra, may Alioth smile on us all. These are my last words. I speak to my sons, Jaras all.” He
pauses, gasping for breath.
“Not all,” Kyaal mutters, for Lyro’s ears.
Fenix clicks his tongue at him. “Settle. There is no reason to jab at him.”
“Yet,” Thren amends grimly.
My father’s dry voice draws our attention back to the screen. “It is my task to choose who shall
rule the Five Planets. It must be one whom Alioth favors.”
I tense in anticipation of his decree. A fight, no doubt. One stacked for his preferred champion, of
course. I don’t watch the screen, though. I watch my brothers to see which of them is eager for the
challenge.
Thren sits forward, as I expect. He would rule our people well if I lost to him, I think. He is
bloodthirsty, perhaps, but he is fair. He’d benefit from the wisdom of an advisor like Dorel, who’d
bring a steadiness Thren lacks. If he bests me, I’ll suggest Dorel join the emperor’s court and advise
him.
Nik is still in his chair, staid and unreadable as an elite assassin should be. He will fight as well
as Thren if challenged, but he lacks the ambition to rule, which could be his weakness. He may not
want to win, preferring to follow someone else’s leadership instead.
Kyaal pushes back from the table, his gaze somewhere up on the ceiling, wishing this all away as
Dorel hinted. Fenix toys with the handle of the small dagger sheathed on his bicep, tracing its pattern,
lost to a daydream. He won’t draw it against any of us. We all know my father’s challenge, whatever
it may be, does not apply to him.
Lyro’s eyes are on Fenix, too, his smile a bright slash in the light reflecting from the screen, but
there is no happiness in it. Now I’m certain he was there when our father spoke these words.
My father croaks out again, “I have thought long on this. The truth is, Alioth no longer smiles on
our line. I hoped perhaps she would designate the new emperor herself by showing one of my sons his
Alara. But she has not selected a fated queen for any of you. Therefore, when my ghost reaches the
goddess, our family’s rule must end.”
We all jolt forward, slipping sharp looks around the table. Whatever we expected from his last
words, my father has twisted it again. Always a twist of the blade from him. Always a new wound.
“In the absence of an Alara, those closest to Alioth will assume leadership of the Five Planets.
The priests of the Eye, in their piety and purity, will rule. There will be no emperor. There will be no
Jaras. There will be only the Eye watching over us all.”
Thren erupts from his seat and slams a fist on the table so hard it shakes all of us. Nik’s jaw
clenches tight, waves of charcoal-dark anger washing over his face and disappearing beneath the high
collar of his sveli as he struggles and fails to keep calm. Kyaal laughs deliriously like he was in on
the joke, clapping his hands, and Lyro’s grimace of a smile spreads wider like an open wound until it
verges on insane.
Even Fenix has yellow surprise creeping into his cheeks as he stares, stunned, at my father’s
ruined face. “R’Hiza, take my ghost,” he swears under his breath. “I’m finally free.”
“I do not forget my sons,” my father continues, making a vain attempt to wet his withered lips
when his voice gives out. “I do not steal your birthright. You shall have a part. You will join the Eye
yourselves. Perhaps one of you will rise and become high priest, if Alioth wills it. These are the last
words of Chanísh.”
The screen blanks. Darkness. When the windows open and my eyes adjust, I see Fenix with his
head on the table, all hints of happiness in his skin burned away by our father’s decree.
“He’ll have us be frixing monks,” he mumbles into its surface.
Nik is himself again, back straight in his chair. “What the emperor wills, will be.”
“You don’t object to your fate?” Lyro’s words are sharp as his smile. “You don’t moan and wail
like the others at the thought of wearing the shadowcloak?”
Nik meets his gaze. “Is it so bad, your life?”
“Perhaps not compared to life on Usuri,” Kyaal remarks blandly, naming Nik’s ball of ice,
although the rest of us would not say his desert planet was much better. “Some of us are less eager to
give up our planetary pleasures.”
Thren grunts his agreement. “I will not. If the Eye wishes to brave Endan’s forests and take my
throne, I will happily tear the cloaks from them all, cracking monkish bones one by one.” He cracks
his knuckles for emphasis, eyes on Lyro, as though he is the one who has spoken the last words and
not our father.
The noise erases Lyro’s smile. Instead of leveling a retort, Lyro turns to me. “And you, Lothan?
Your silence does not betray your thoughts. Will you challenge the Eye, or will you don the
shadowcloak as our father wishes?”
“Neither,” I say. I scrape back my heavy chair and rise to my full height, waiting for the attention
of all my brothers. When Fenix finally lifts his head from the table to stare at me, I make my
announcement. “I stand before you as your emperor, favored by Alioth. Our father declared as much
in his last words.”
Their stunned expressions last only a moment before Lyro jumps up, pulling his cloak around his
shoulders like a shield. “Blasphemy! R’Hiza poisons your tongue.”
Nik’s hands are on his knives, though he hasn’t drawn them against me yet, I notice with a small
measure of pleasure. Thren’s skin has darkened with outrage at my announcement, even though he has
already declared his own rebellion. Kyaal sits back, ever the spectator, but Fenix’s eyes are wide
with worry that ripples with deep blue-purple—for me, I realize. He fears our brothers may pull me
apart right here and now.
“Explain yourself,” he urges me. “None of us can see it.”
I push down the knot of feelings that tangles inside my chest like a storm. “I submit to you that I,
Jara Lothan, King of Irra, son of Chanísh, Emperor of the Five Planets, have found my Alara. The
goddess smiles on our line again.” At this, Lyro sinks into his chair and seems to forget his cloak,
letting it slide down his shoulders.
Beside him, Thren lifts his chin in amusement, choking down a thin laugh. “Of course. How
convenient that Father’s favorite miraculously produces a fated queen at the precise moment she is
required.”
His favorite. I would laugh, too, but for the danger I am in. More than one of my brothers is ready
to slit my throat. Nik darts his eyes between us, weighing Thren’s accusation against the truthfulness
of my claim.
“What a glorious cut of the blade. I anticipated nothing less from Chanísh, but still, it is a surprise
that delights my heart to know my oldest brother inherited our father’s skill. He lives on in you,
Lothan. Tell me, how far in advance did you arrange this with him?” Lyro’s mouth twists with the
bitterness in every word of his question.
I growl low in my chest. “There is no conspiracy. The goddess revealed her to me yesterday, and
I had no reason to believe it would lead to my coronation as emperor. I only delighted to meet my
fated queen.”
“I would delight to meet her, too.” Thren caresses his blades like they are concubines, eager to
serve at his whim. “If she existed. As she does not, I’d delight to meet you in the fighting pits.”
I ready myself for his attack, happy I had the forethought to make an opening through my garments
to draw the blades, if necessary. “You reject Alioth’s will?”
Thren snorts, flaring his nares. “She favors you and no other? Not our father nor any one of us?
What have you done that is so worthy, Lothan?”
Nik’s voice cuts cleanly through the thick tension of the room, his eyes on my father’s glass casket
as he absentmindedly fingers the jagged scar that splits his cheek. “Don’t waste your blood, Thren.
We’ll know the truth soon enough.”
“When Chanísh’s ghost meets the goddess,” Kyaal murmurs under his breath. “Then we’ll all be
monks or kings.”
Fenix moans like a stubborn braxa with a too-heavy load. “Please stop reminding me.”
“A king never begs,” Lyro recites our father’s words, his voice oily with disdain. “Given your
whimpers, I guess we know what your fate will be, whether Lothan can produce this supposed Alara
or not. A crown is too heavy for your lazy neck to hold.”
“Fenix, a monk. R’Hiza take me, it would almost be worth becoming one myself to see it.” Thren
settles back in his chair. He and Fenix banter under Lyro’s glower, and they seem to forget about me
for the moment.
Satisfied none of them will slit my throat—at least not today—I push down the gnawing doubt in
my belly that my brothers will accept Ada when they meet her. She does not speak their language. She
is not even Irran. And she does not accept the role herself. She’d rather go back to her debtors than
stay and rule beside me.
I cannot understand why Alioth has chosen my queen for me, but it must be some wisdom beyond
my own. Perhaps it is the Frathiks the goddess favors now. Or perhaps it is the Eye after all. The most
I can do is play my goddess-given part.
With the taste of earth in my mouth, I turn my back on my brothers and my father’s glass casket and
bow my head to the window. I forfeit to her mercy.
Chapter 11
 Ada
he morning sun bombards my vision, and I pull a fur over my face to block the harsh light. The
T fur smells like Lothan, and his infuriatingly delicious scent makes yesterday’s encounter with
him flood back to me. My cheeks heat, remembering the view of him with his face between my thighs,
those stormy, wicked eyes watching me.
What’s wrong with me?
Lothan’s not your boyfriend, I remind myself. I’ve just gone from one captor to another. I can’t
get twisted just because he’s hot and knows his way around a clit. I never should have let that happen,
anyway. I need to get out of here before the Frathiks take Lena somewhere else.
“Alara? Are you awake?” Mooni’s soft voice filters through the door.
“No,” I mutter into the furs.
“I brought you some nomo.” The sound of the lock mechanism disengaging makes me lift my head.
Maybe I can rush out past her. But when the door cracks open and she slips in with the tray, I notice
an enormous, shirtless male alien in the hallway behind her, staring impassively into the room. He has
knives strapped to both biceps and both thighs—which are mercifully covered in pants. There’s no
way I’m getting past that guy.
Mooni rises from her bow. Noticing my stare at the guard outside the open door, she gives the
barest shrug as she tactfully shuts it behind her. “Jara wishes to keep you safe.”
Right. More like he just wants to keep me. So much for an escape attempt. I roll over in the bed,
staring at what I can see out the window—the bright sky, without a single cloud in it. This is probably
going to be my view for a while, so I might as well get used to it.
Mooni circles the bed and sets the tray on the floor where I can reach it. When I ignore her, she
clears her throat. “Jara wishes you to learn some of our customs.”
I’m sure he does. Customs are also known as rules, and it’ll be much easier for him to control me
if I learn the rules. Since she can’t understand me anyway... “Lothan can go suck a bag of dicks.”
“I will bring you a fresh sveli,” she says calmly, looking me up and down. She gestures to the
steaming cup on the tray. “Nomo will settle your emotions, so you can greet the day.”
While she’s gone, my growling stomach forces me to grudgingly admit that I’m hungry, so I sit up
to sample the hot beverage. I’m pleasantly surprised by its flavor. It reminds me of green tea, although
it has a peppery note as well, and I can feel the tension draining out of my body as the nomo’s warmth
travels through it. There are a couple of the crunchy herbal biscuits I ate for dinner on the tray, too, so
I nibble at one of them while I wait for Mooni to return.
Now that my anger at Lothan has subsided somewhat, I’m surprised by how much I want the alien
woman’s company. I guess after six weeks crammed into a cell with all the other women the Frathiks
abducted, I’m not used to being alone. The terror of the whole situation was a lot easier to bear with
someone to hold my hand.
When one of us was having a hard time keeping it together, there was someone else beside us who
had the strength to get us through it, even from the very first day.
When I woke up in the Frathiks’ spaceship, I thought I was in my own bed. That’s where I’d fallen
asleep. But then I opened my eyes, and I knew I wasn’t. My ceiling was bumpy, white, water-stained
in one corner, and covered with glow-in-the-dark stars that looked faintly green in the daylight.
That was not the ceiling in front of me. The ceiling I was looking at was flat gray metal,
perforated with tiny holes, and it was about two feet from my face. I rolled over onto my side to
check the rest of the room, and pain stabbed the side of my head.
 Something heavy was stapled to my ear, but I didn’t know what it was. All I knew was that
someone was screaming, and then I realized it was me, and then someone else told me to be quiet and
held my hands down so I wouldn’t pull the device out of my ear.
“Knock it off,” the voice hissed. “I’ll tell you everything, but keep your mouth shut. If you don’t,
they’ll come, and trust me, you don’t want them to.” Dread settled in my bones, although I quickly
learned that what I initially feared, that I’d been arrested for fibbing on the travel expense reports for
my birthday princess job, was so benign compared to the reality that it was almost a joke.
When I got myself under control, the dark-haired woman who’d been restraining me introduced
herself as Jaya. She looked like someone who could take you on a kayak tour and then tune up your
Subaru. She exuded an earthy capability, and I immediately trusted her.
“So the first thing you need to know is that this is real, and everything I’m going to tell you is true.
Got it?” When I nodded, she dove in, her voice quick and low. “I don’t have it all figured out, but
these are the facts I’ve collected so far. We are on a spaceship—”
“What?!” I sat up, cracking my head on the ceiling, which I then realized was actually the
underside of a bunk. Jaya shot me an irritated look.
“Please, save it. I’m not fucking with you. The spaceship is full of some big gray aliens who look
like your great-aunt Betty made an elephant out of her old knee-highs. They are not nice. If you make
too much noise, they come zap you with a cattle prod, so don’t make noise. Got it so far?”
I nodded, too stunned to say anything, anyway.
“They grabbed a few of us yesterday, but you’re part of a big new group that just got here. Stop
it.” She grabbed my hand, and I realized I’d been tugging at my throbbing ear again. “We all have
those. It helps you understand what they’re saying, I think. At least some of it. The basics. Now
listen.” She counts off the rest of the facts on her fingers. “We are all young, we are all women, and
they have more chicks than beds now. I think you know what that means.”
I did. More women than beds meant they didn’t expect us all to survive. They took extras, just in
case. And the fact that the aliens only abducted young women meant they were interested in our
bodies, not our skills or experience. We were objects—interchangeable objects. Perhaps disposable,
sexual ones. My stomach turned, and I almost puked.
Jaya frowned at me. “Get it together. I need you to help orient the rest of them.” The whimpers of
other women waking up around me filled my ears, and for the first time, Jaya looked panicked herself.
“We have to keep them quiet.”
I swallowed hard and pushed away the ugly fears that overwhelmed my senses and roiled the
nausea in my belly. At least Lena was safe. She was still asleep on the couch in my living room.
She’d been crashing there until she found a room to rent closer to the university. She’d just been
admitted to veterinary school there, and I was so proud of her for working toward her dream.
She can still succeed, even without me. I know she can. The sick feeling subsided. I nodded to
Jaya as I scooted my legs off the edge of the bunk. “I can do it. I just need to pee first.”
“Over there.”
I wobbled over to the trough she indicated on the other side of the cell and used it. When I looked
for Jaya again, she was crouched down beside a bunk, giving another orientation to a scrawny young
woman with white-blonde hair and eyebrows so light they were almost invisible.
My ears rang, and it wasn’t due to the translator device. I recognized that face, that hair. Panic
darkened my vision. It was Lena. It was my little sister. She had been taken, too.
It took me two weeks to find a shred of hope: At least we have each other. Not just me and Lena,
but all the other women: Delphie’s quick humor. Bree teaching us how to twerk. Andi’s creative
curse words that she wasn’t afraid to use right to the Frathiks’ faces. Hannah’s sweet stories about
her toddler. Jaya’s ability to stay calm so she could collect facts and make decisions. The others, too.
We got each other through the most horrific experiences of our lives.
Of our lives so far, I realize. I might be in relative safety—I twist my mouth at the memory of the
guard outside my door—but it could get so much worse for them. I can’t give up. I have to find them
so we can all escape together.
I pace in circles around the pit of furs, chewing my lips to pieces trying to come up with a plan. I
wish I had Jaya’s confidence and capability, so I knew what to do next.
What would Jaya do if she were here?
She’d look for a way out. There has to be a way out of here, some weakness I can exploit. But
this cave palace seems as secure as the Frathiks’ ship, the world outside as unknown and hostile as
any one of the planets where we stopped for fuel and supplies. Even if I get out of here, how will I
survive?
Patience, I remind myself. There will come a time when the guard has to pee, and I’ll be watching
for it. He’ll forget to lock the door or make some other mistake, and I’ll slip by him. Tamira got away
from the Frathiks, which means it can be done. It could take days or years, but my opportunity will
come eventually, and I’ll be ready.
That’s what Jaya would do. She’d arm herself with information. I need to try to learn what I can
about this world so I’m equipped to survive it once I escape.
My eyes fall on the box Lothan left behind when he stormed out yesterday, and my curiosity
piques. I lift the lid and take out the crown. It’s beautifully crafted of gold, or something that looks
like gold, and the winding, organic design reminds me a little of Celtic knotwork, though it’s
distinctly alien.
For some reason—maybe my latent party princess coming out—I get the impulse to try it on. It
wouldn’t hurt, would it?
I settle the circlet on my brow and feel it take on the warmth of my skin. I lean into the light to see
it better in the reflection of the window glass, and the metal heats suddenly, searing my forehead. It’s
burning me, literally burning. I scream, scrabbling to pull it off, but it seems like it’s glued on or
melted into my skin. This is it. This is how I’m going to die, my head catching on fire from some
mystical spicy alien crown.
“Shit, shit, shit!” Blinded by pain, I trip and fall into the shadow of the orgy pit, still grappling
with my own head. Thank god for the furs. The circlet loosens from the impact and I’m able to slide it
off.
It wouldn’t hurt. Famous last words. It hurt—a lot. I tentatively rub my forehead where it’s still
tingling, expecting to feel evidence of the burn. But my skin is smooth. No blisters or patches of
damage. Maybe I had an allergic reaction to the metal or something.
In a way, it was worth it, though, because it told me everything I needed to know about whether
Lothan’s story is true. It’s not. This crown may belong to his planet’s fated queen, but it doesn’t
belong to me. There’s no way I’m putting that thing on again.
I drag myself out of the furs and put it in its box before a tentative knock lets me know my screams
haven’t gone unnoticed.
“Alara?” Mooni’s head pokes in the door, her wide, brown eyes a well of concern. She clutches a
pair of new dresses similar to the ones I’m wearing, although the new one is a deeper shade of pink.
On top of them are folded my tattered, flannel pajamas, freshly laundered. “Are you hurt?”
I shake my head, scrambling for a plausible explanation until I remember she can’t understand me
anyway, so I can say whatever I want. “I tried on the crown, and it burned the shit out of my forehead.
Your king is delusional if he thinks I’m the one who’s destined to wear it. I’m getting the hell out of
here as soon as I can.”
Mooni blinks blankly, grimacing. “You wish to dress?”
My fists ball with frustration, and I want to scream at Mooni that every minute that goes by, my
chance to save Lena and the others slips a little bit more through my fingers.
But it’s not this kind, puzzled woman’s fault. She’s just trying to help me, and since I’m stranded
on an alien planet, I should probably be thankful that someone cares. She could become a friend and
ally if I don’t drive her away with my anger. She might even help me escape at some point,
unwittingly or not.
I take a deep breath and reframe my thoughts, forcing my fists to loosen. I’m not in danger at this
exact moment. It’s a beautiful day outside, and the view of the grasslands is spectacular. I have food
to eat and clothes to wear and nobody is threatening me with a cattle prod.
I nod to Mooni and shrug out of my wrinkled garments. With gentle hands, she helps me into the
clean clothes and ties a fresh sash around my waist, then stands back, clasping her hands and nodding
with approval at my appearance until her gaze lands on my hair. She picks up the comb, turning it in
her hands. “Would you like me to arrange your hair, Alara?”
The sight of it raises goosebumps on the back of my neck, as the memory of how it felt when
Lothan tugged it through my hair floods my body with heat. I think the comb parted my legs as much as
it parted my hair.
I can’t let him do that again. I need to stay focused on getting out of here and finding Lena and the
other women. I can’t afford the distraction. Seducing Lothan isn’t my ticket out of here—befriending
Mooni is.
Choosing one of the clean blue scarves from the neat stack on the small wicker table, I hold it up.
“Lothan said you should teach me some customs, right? Let’s start with this.”
A smile spreads across her face at finally catching my meaning. I suppress a shudder—I’ll never
get used to those pointy teeth—as she winds the scarf around my head, tucking the ends in as she
chatters. “This color flatters you, Alara. I think every woman will try when they see it on your head.
The merchants will have to double their prices on blue fabric or risk selling out.”
I only half-listen to her. I stare out the window at the grasslands below. I can just catch a glimpse
of the narrow, cobbled street that clings to the side of the cliff, leading down to the city, and I
memorize its twists and turns.
My escape route.
Chapter 12
 Lothan
he goddess favors you, Lothan.” Zomah’s smooth voice turns all our heads. He doesn’t even try
“T
to hide that he’s been listening in as he closes the hidden door behind him.
I nod my head stiffly, using every grain of willpower I possess to keep my skin from showing my
doubt. It is Alioth’s favor or her teeth, and I won’t know the difference until it’s too late.
Zomah clasps his hands in a pretense of joy before tucking them piously into his sleeves. “Your
line is blessed again. We will reconvene to meet your Alara and celebrate your joining as soon as
possible. Certainly, it must occur before Chanísh meets Alioth, or I think his last words will stand.”
Another threat, sharper than a blade. The Eye is not taking my word for it. I have to prove my
claim. And that means Ada must accept her fate sooner rather than later. I wonder how much time I
have to convince her, make her understand. Not enough, I’m sure.
Fenix asks the question on my lips. “When will the bierbird reach the star?”
Zomah shrugs, although the canny flicker in his expression before he tugs his hood lower to hide it
tells me he knows exactly how much time. “Forty days, but perhaps less. The goddess is eager to meet
her beloved son.”
I suspect he tells a half-truth, hoping I will miss the deadline my father laid out in his last words.
If the Eye assumes rule of the Five Planets, Zomah will be the emperor for all purposes. His
“perhaps” is a surety; it will be less than forty days.
“We will meet at the temple in Loth’Irra in ten days for the joining ceremony,” I say swiftly,
before he can suggest a later date.
“Until then, may Alioth smile on you and your Alara.” Zomah’s tone is cool, but he inclines his
head toward me slightly, a gesture of deference to the future emperor. I can feel the rumble of Thren’s
growl at his show of respect, but I ignore it. With the twitch of his wrist, Zomah summons Lyro, who
murmurs a few words to the casket and then joins him, pulling up the hood of his own cloak as they
exit to avoid my eyes.
He’s more loyal to Zomah than me already. He likely plans to join the Eye either way. Why
shouldn’t he? He’s without a planet, and now that Father’s gone, he has no protector among us, either.
Perhaps Dorel was right that Lyro needs some enticement to back my bid for the emperorship.
The pair of them glide away as the noise of familiar voices echoes down the black glass
passageways. Our advisors return, our signal to leave. My brothers depart without a word to me,
except Fenix, who hangs back, moving closer and darting a glance to make sure no one is listening.
“Tell me, now. Will I be denied the pleasures of this life?” He lets his skin show his fear. “Is
your Alara just a tale? Please, I have to know.”
“Lyro warns you against it, and still you beg? You seal your own fate,” I tease.
He pouts, jutting out his lower lip at me. “You torture me because I won’t clash blades with you.
It’s unkind, Lothan. You know I will follow you if it’s true. I just need to know whether I should catch
the first merchant ship to Mizar or not. I won’t survive as a monk. I’d rather die.”
“If you’re so eager for death, perhaps the Xaszian queen needs a mate,” I joke, but he looks so
miserable that I take pity on him. “It’s all true. You can return to Olethia and indulge in its pleasures
without fear. Alioth has chosen my Alara.”
He sags with relief, skin flooding brown, as Dorel enters the room. “You had my loyalty before,
but your queen has earned it forever. I will fall at her feet and worship them like she’s the goddess
herself. I hope you don’t mind my tongue between her toes.” He licks his lips with a wicked
expression in his eyes. He’s joking, but it still tears a growl from my chest, thinking of anyone
touching her. He rolls his eyes.
“My blades are flimsy, but they are at your disposal.” His tone is still teasing. “Protect her with
your life, Lothan, no matter what comes—so I don’t have to.” He delivers the supposed punchline
with relish, but I don’t laugh, sensing the truth behind the words.
I’m surprised by how much his loyalty means to me. It is useless, of course. Fenix never fought,
even when my father tried to force us. He’d make a joke of it instead, noisily savoring the taste of the
handful of dirt he’d shove into his mouth, cavorting and pretending his sword was a wicker leg on an
old man, limping around the fighting pit with dirt dribbling down his chin until my father would roar
with anger and storm away, threatening to rinse the earth from his mouth until he drowned.
I suspect that’s why he gave Fenix Olethia to rule, so he might drown in its sweet seas. If one of
our brothers challenges me, Fenix will likely be the first to fold. He said it himself—he would
disappear on a starship before he’d risk taking the shadowcloak.
But I thank him, anyway. He and his advisor depart, so only Dorel and I are left in the room with
my father’s body.
Dorel walks to the casket and stares through the glass at my father’s frozen form, the man he
served for so many years before me. He murmurs a prayer before he turns back to face me.
“You heard the last words?” I ask.
He inclines his head. “We advisors were privy to them while we waited in the Archives. Why did
you ask for ten days? Why not five or even fewer? That is the question I hear buzzing around the Eye
like a Xaszian swarm.” He flicks his ear membranes, reminding me that others are listening to my
reply.
“My Alara needs time to adjust to her new role. She wishes to learn more about her people and
planet before we make a public announcement,” I say carefully.
“Wise,” Dorel says, enunciating carefully to make sure our eavesdroppers catch it. “Now that it’s
clear your Alara will become empress, she will need even deeper knowledge. Of all five planets and
other star systems as well. Perhaps even the more remote ones,” he adds meaningfully.
“You think I should request more time?” I guess. He tilts his head, indicating that I haven’t asked
the right question. He waits for me to ask for something else, but I can’t see what he’s getting at.
He gives up on me. “The Eye has deeper archives than we have in Loth’Irra, Jara. It would please
your new queen if you selected certain records to be sent to Joorn for her education.” He taps his lips
with one finger and then his ear, and I finally realize what he means.
The Eye may have Ada’s language in their archives.
“Show me the way,” I command him. Dorel navigates the ominous black passageways with ease,
and I’m reminded that he served my father loyally for decades. Though I trust his advice, he has his
own secret objectives, ones that may not align with mine. Perhaps I should not trust him so easily
when he’s this comfortable in the Eye.
Or perhaps these priests are infecting me with their shadows. Dorel has never shown disloyalty.
The opposite—he always acts in my interest, doing what is best for me even when I dislike his
methods.
We reach the end of a hallway, and Dorel makes a motion. A door opens in front of us. Inside, a
weathered Irran, bent with age, looks up at us, a smile twitching in his lined face. Samorik, the keeper
of the Brotherhood’s archives. “Back so soon, Dorel? Ah, I see you brought the young emperor.” He
bows so low, his sleeves brush the floor. He calls me emperor already, placing his bet.
I give him a nod of respect. “If Alioth smiles.”
Dorel wastes no time. “Lothan wishes his empress to have all the benefits of the archives to
deepen her education. If you will transmit them to Joorn...”
Samorik straightens, amusement bunching his eyebrows. “All of them? The entire archive? I think
that will take some years.”
“We have no need for duplicate records. Only the ones the Brotherhood holds back,” Dorel
responds coolly. I see Samorik’s expression harden. He’s protective of their archives, and that
awareness prickles the back of my neck. The Eye keeps secrets, even from emperors.
“Surely your Alara has no interest in the dull workings of priests,” Samorik says to me, his
chuckle without humor.
Dorel clicks his teeth. “Her interests are none of your concern. If she is to be empress, the
archives are at her disposal. She will use them as she wishes.”
I’m surprised at his aggressive posture. Samorik is an old man with old habits, that is all. I doubt
that menacing him with a warrior stance will result in his capitulation, anyway. Old men are not
afraid to die. “My main concern is her ability to conduct diplomacy. Loth’Irra hosts more species in
its markets each day, and I know my brothers’ planets are the same. Frankly, my own translator is
sorely lacking in certain languages.” I harden my words, directing them at Dorel, as though I blame
him for the oversight.
It works. Samorik relaxes and makes a few covert motions on the comm device he retrieves from
a locked drawer. “I will sent Joorn all known tongues, even those with sparse documentation.
Anything else?”
I can’t suppress the gratitude that momentarily stains me green. Even if only half Ada’s language
is in the archives, it will help. “The joining ceremony. No Irrans can remember the last one.”
Samorik’s eyes brighten. “My father saw Grenzar and Honhura kneel before the goddess for their
joining. I would be honored to stand with you and your Alara. It was a sad thing that Chanísh was
unable to do the same. May Alioth smile on him—”
“When his ghost reaches the goddess,” I finish swiftly, my tongue tripping over the words in my
eagerness to move on from the topic of my father. “Transmit any records of past ceremonies so we
may best prepare our own. And should there be records from the other four planets that are not in the
archives of Irra. Maps, weapons caches, treasure houses, birds, assassins...I request those, too, so my
Alara may learn.”
“I see. The new emperor prepares for all possibilities.” Samorik’s eyes narrow craftily as he
follows my instructions. “Should the Jaras fail to accept your leadership, with the help of the Eye, you
will be ready.”
Dorel growls faintly under his breath. “Jara Lothan prepares to rule the Five Planets. That is all.
If the Eye’s help is required, it will be commanded.”
Samorik bows low to me again, ignoring my advisor. “May Alioth smile on you.”
These religious zealots. Every other sentence is Alioth. But I need Samorik’s help, whether the
goddess continues to torture me or not. I return his bow, despite Dorel’s hiss of annoyance that I’m
bowing to anyone. “And on all of us.”
Chapter 13
 Ada
ooni is surprisingly good company. I find that, even though we can’t have a real conversation,
M I enjoy listening to her talk while I sit on the edge of the circular bed pit and swirl my toes in
the soft furs. Her favorite topic seems to be what a great guy Lothan is. She’s as proud of him as if
he’s her own kid, so I mostly ignore all of her claims that he’s the smartest, funniest, nicest, most
handsome dude on this planet.
Her second favorite topic is complaining about her mate, Dorel, who’s apparently Lothan’s
righthand man. Mooni says that even though Dorel is supposed to be this super wise and powerful
advisor, he’s basically like a devoted pet at home. He’ll do anything for her.
“We never had greenlings,” she confides in me. Greenling is their term for child, I gather from my
new translator. “I would have liked to, but Irran females don’t conceive easily.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Why’s that?”
She seems to understand my question. “The goddess withdrew her favor when Jara Chanísh’s
brother, Oljin, died. Since that time, few greenlings have been born. Jara Chanísh believed the low
birth rates were due to an environmental problem on Irra, but even after he settled the other moons
and planets in Alioth’s name, they did not improve. He himself had to take dozens of concubines to
conceive his sons.”
“Tough job, but someone’s gotta do it,” I mutter, stealing a glance at the giant orgy pit.
Mooni giggles, catching the direction of my gaze. “But now Irra has a fated queen again. I think
many women will soon have babies in their arms, Alara. They will always be grateful to you for
renewing the goddess’s blessing.”
My throat tightens. I don’t want to give her false hope, but there’s no way I can explain how I
know Lothan has the wrong girl. They’ll figure it out once I’m gone. Maybe he’ll get obsessed with
somebody new, the right somebody who can actually fix the problems here. I motion to the door and
make a walking motion with my fingers. “Can you show me around the palace? I’d like to see my new
home.” And figure out where the exits are.
Mooni frowns at me, playing with the ends of her sash. “Jara wishes you to remain in the royal
chambers until he returns.”
“How long is he going to keep me locked up here?” I ask bitterly. “The least he can do is tell me
himself instead of sending someone else to do his dirty work. If I’m so important to him, where is he?
Oh right, I’m just another possession. An expensive one that he has to keep locked up, like that stupid
crown, so I don’t get lost while he’s off doing king stuff, right? Lothan can bite my ass.”
Mooni looks hurt, maybe because I’m so obviously unhappy and she has been tasked with my
happiness. Her brown eyes liquid and earnest, she leans forward in her seat to touch my shoulder.
“Forgive him. His absence is unavoidable. He meets with his brothers to mourn his father’s death, but
he will return to you when he is able.”
The news is like a punch in the stomach. When Lothan mentioned his father, I guess I assumed that
he’d been gone a long time. I didn’t realize that he’d just passed away. That his loss was a fresh
wound.
I know exactly how much that hurts. My mom died out of the blue. A five-car crash when she was
coming home from work one night, when I was twelve and Lena was ten. We really weren’t prepared
for life without her.
Mom spoiled us. Even as a single parent, she tried to protect us from the harsh realities of the
world. She cut the scratchy crusts off our sandwiches. Warmed up our PJs in the dryer before bed on
cold nights. Made up different endings to books if they were too sad or scary.
Her best fairytale was about our dad. She told us he was a prince from a faraway kingdom who
had to leave our family because otherwise he’d be banished by the king. She said it didn’t matter if
we didn’t have official recognition; we’d always be royalty, and we should be treated as such, even
if it was a secret.
“Your royal bubble bath, your Highnesses,” she’d say, curtseying beside the tub as she waited for
us to pile in.
Logically, I knew it wasn’t true. Even secret royalty didn’t live in a trailer park in Coeur d’Alene,
Idaho, no matter how cute and princessy their bedroom was decorated. But part of me must have
believed it, because it was truly a shock to suddenly become a regular kid.
Nobody else believed we were special. Not the relatives who didn’t have time or space for us.
Not the harried social services workers who tried hard to keep us together and thought they’d done
enough when they succeeded. Certainly not our string of foster families.
Nobody knew we should be treasured. The secret died with Mom. It was devastation on top of
devastation, our mom and our hidden identities wiped out in one twist of fate.
Maybe I’m still thinking like a pretend princess, though. Our experience wasn’t unique. That’s just
what it feels like to lose a parent—devastating.
“I didn’t know,” I whisper, hanging my head. Mooni slips out of the chair and lowers herself next
to me, mimicking the movement of my feet in the soft fur of the blankets. She tucks a strand of hair that
has escaped my scarf back underneath the fabric. The gesture is so maternal that I’m overcome with
emotion. Even though I’ve lived more of my life without her than with her, I just want my mom.
Tears pour down my cheeks, and Mooni uses the end of her sash to dab them away, clucking her
tongue sympathetically while she waits for me to compose myself again. She lets me lean into her
until my sobs subside and my shuddering breaths calm into a regular rhythm. When I’ve finally
recovered, she pulls back to give me an encouraging, if pointy smile.
“All will be well. You will see.”
My stomach rebels at the thought of staying here, accepting whatever role Lothan assigns me. I
can’t. I’ll die. As long as Lena is out there, as long as the other women are captive with her, nothing
will be well. I’ll never be happy unless they are safe and happy, too.
But Mooni doesn’t need to understand all my fears. All my weaknesses. She just needs to see
someone she likes and trusts, someone she might let out of this damn room at some point. She’s right.
All will be well, just not the way she thinks.
The sound of the door opening makes my eyes fly open.
Mooni make a cry of delight and rushes to greet the man who enters first. They press their palms
together solemnly before twining their fingers together. It must be Dorel, her mate. My heart gives a
pang at their heartfelt greeting. I’ll never have love like that, the love of true partners. I lost my
chance when I lost my planet.
“Did they feed you on the Eye?” Mooni asks him, and he pulls a face.
“No. Even if the priests offered me a meal, I would decline.”
She tugs him out the door. “Then we must find you sustenance in the kitchens. I will send
something up for Jara and Alara so they may...dine without interruption.” She gives me a knowing
look over her shoulder and jerks her head toward—well, toward the jerk.
Lothan stands there, just inside the doorway, staring at me where I sit, his gaze inscrutable,
although it lingers on my headscarf.
“Are you still mad at me about the Frathik thing last night?” I ask him, scrambling to my feet,
unable to stop my fingers from nervously adjusting the wrap. “I’m not your fated queen, you know.
You have the wrong girl. Whoever you think I am, you’re mistaken. I’m just Ada from Idaho on planet
Earth. Nobody special.”
“Alara.” His voice holds a note of warning, but I barrel on.
“I’ve worn a crown twice in my life. Once, when I was crowned Kootenai County Potato
Princess. I only did the pageant because in the years right after Mom died, fake-smiling was easier
than real-smiling. I didn’t win at state, for the record. And I wear a plastic crown at work when I
pretend to be Cinderella at little girls’ birthday parties, but even they know I’m not a real princess.
I’m really sorry your people are having fertility problems, but there’s nothing I can do about that.
That’s between you and your magical star goddess.”
I steal a glance at him. Mistake. His eyes are hot, burning into me with an intensity that sends a
lightning bolt of sexual awareness down my spine. I clamp my knees together, willing my body to stop
its betrayal.
Eyes on the prize, space slut.
He closes the door, an ominous sound, and stalks toward me. I take a huge breath and squeeze my
eyes shut. “I’m really sorry your dad died, too. I’m glad that at least—at least you have your brothers
for comfort. You don’t need me to get through this. You really don’t. Please, let me go.”
I sense his closeness, a prickle of electricity even though he hasn’t touched my skin. He begins to
unwind the scarf from my hair, wordless, and my eyes fly open.
Nervously, I babble, “Listen, I tried on the crown. It burned the shit out of me. It was a clear
rejection from the goddess, let me tell you. She was like, ‘I don’t know who you are, but this ain’t
your crown, babe.’”
To my surprise, Lothan’s low chuckle rumbles behind me. “Alioth’s teeth are sharp. I find it
always stings a little when one accepts her favor.”
I stiffen. Did he just understand what I said?
He drops the scarf to the floor beside me, where it coils like a pale-blue snake. A single claw
draws a line from my ear and down my neck, catching the edge of my dress across the dip of my
shoulder, and then down the length of my arm. Goosebumps raise instantly, and I feel his touch echo
in every cell of my body.
How does he make me forget everything with one finger?
He leans to murmur in my ear. “I bring good news. Do you wish to hear it?”
I swallow and nod. Anything to break the momentum that is carrying me closer and closer to
losing all control of my good judgment. Another minute or two of this, and I’m not going to remember
my own name.
He tugs me closer. When I direct my gaze to the floor, he gently adjusts my chin, so I have to look
into his mesmerizing eyes. “The first news, I suspect you guessed already. I found your language in
the archives, terrakin.”
I blink, stunned. “You understand English now?”
He inclines his head. “If that is what you call your tongue, then yes. I will ensure that all Irrans
receive implants, even those who live in the outlands, so your people will understand their fated
queen.”
My breath comes out in a burst. “I just told you, I’m not destined to rule this planet.”
“Don’t you want to hear the second news?” he purrs, running his hands along the sensitive skin
under my arms, sending a wave of desire crashing over me. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’d
drugged me. That’s how intoxicating I find his touch. It melts away my worries, my fears, my
inhibitions—even the urgency of finding Lena fades when he’s near.
I back away from him. “Let me guess. Second news is you want to bang. Well, I have news for
you, too. I’m not interested. I have more important things to do.”
He flashes his teeth at me, undeterred. “Your body says otherwise. The scent of your divine cunt
calls to me, Alara.”
“Ada,” I correct stubbornly, but I can’t keep the embarrassed flush from creeping up my neck. I
can’t believe he can smell my traitorous freakin’ pussy from here.
“Ada.” He rumbles my name in my ear, and my knees dissolve, tipping me into him, and I can feel
the thick evidence of his arousal, too. He definitely wants to bang, and frankly, so do I. My nipples
tighten so hard with desire that they sting, twin tiny bursts of pain that beg to be soothed by his tongue.
They make it hard to think about anything else.
“I can’t.” I clamp my arm over my breasts and back away hurriedly, almost tripping into the pit of
furs.
He runs that damn tongue over his teeth, which is not helping. “I disagree. It is what you are made
for.”
I gape at him, my arm dropping limply to my side as all desire vanishes. “I’m made to fuck? Gee,
thanks.”
Chapter 14
 Lothan
nce again, I have misstepped. I rub my forehead, my cock softening at Ada’s dismayed
O expression. Of course, no female wishes to be merely a pleasurable plaything. Even
concubines who are eager to serve a king want to know they are more than their physical form.
“I meant you are my fated queen,” I explain. “Made by the goddess, created as my perfect match
in all ways. What you desire, I desire. Tell me what you want, Ada. Anything that is within my grasp,
I will give you.”
My stomach clenches as I wait for her reply. I hate that she rejects the title Alara, that she needs
more proof, that she needs more time before she accepts her fate. I can only hope it is fewer than the
ten days we have.
“My sister is with the Frathiks,” she begins, and anger explodes under my skin, turning me night-
dark as I close the distance between us with three strides. I knew it. Her family’s loyalties are with
my greatest enemies.
“You want to go to them.” When she nods, a hiss escapes my teeth. “My answer is still no.”
She shrinks back. “See? You’re mad at me again. It’s not true that you’ll give me what I want, is
it? You just believe I’ll want everything you want, and that’s not the same thing.” She swallows hard,
and I realize that, despite her defiant words, she’s shaking with fear.
It makes me ache to know she is afraid of me.
I fiercely suppress my emotions so my skin can still, then hold a hand out to her. “My anger is not
for you, Alara. I am angry at the goddess for our circumstances, but I know there must be wisdom in
it. You and I may not agree, but it’s clear that I need you, and you need me. Perhaps if we arrive at
some understanding, we can find our way, together. Come, Alara.”
“Where?” Her voice has an edge of suspicion.
“Bathe with me. I am eager to remove the bitter scent of priests from my skin, and you can explain
again why you prefer the Frathiks to the comforts of my arms. I promise, I will listen without anger. I
expect I will soften to your position very quickly with your skin against mine.”
Her eyes slide down my body, and she catches her lower lip in her teeth. The bloom of her
arousal reaches my nostrils again, and my heart ignites, throbbing with satisfaction as my cock bobs
to attention under her gaze. She wants me and I want her—goddess, I want her. And if that is all we
have to bridge our disagreements, it is enough. For now.
She puts a tentative hand in mine, and I take that as permission to sweep her up in my arms and
carry her to the bath. I have her sveli off in a heartbeat, and she gasps as the air meets her rosy skin,
her hands flying to cover her peaked nipples. “How’d you do that so fast?”
“Irran clothing is designed to be removed quickly.” I give her a wicked look and drop my own
tunic and trousers to the floor with one pull of my sash. I am gratified when her breath catches and she
can’t drag her eyes away from my erection. My cock gives the throb of approval, jerking against my
belly.
She clears her throat. “Your whole wardrobe is a sex thing? That’s commitment.”
A laugh erupts from my throat. I swiftly unbuckle my blades, setting them to the side, and step into
the bath. The silky water swallows my skin as I find a comfortable seat, and I motion for her to join
me on the built-in stone bench. “No, not a sex thing, although that is a benefit, don’t you find?”
She blushes prettily and enters the water, sinking down so it covers her breasts. A shame,
although I can’t wait to slide my hands over them, when she’s ready. I promised her a conversation
first, though.
 “It’s a warrior thing,” I explain. “Clothing covers our natural camouflage, so we prefer to fight
without garments.”
“I noticed you fought naked that first day, before you took me. Stole me, I mean.” Her cheeks flush
again. She’s as colorful as any Irran, my Alara.
“Did you like what you saw?” She squirms, and my cock hardens further, if that is even possible.
I groan with desire. “I must touch you. Please, I cannot think when you are so far away.”
To my surprise, she giggles. “Four feet away, and you can’t think? Buddy, you’re in trouble.”
Buddy. I do not like this word, if my translator’s rendition of it is correct. I find her foot under the
water and pull her toward me in one swift motion, clamping my arm around her waist to hold her
firmly in my lap. “I am not your friend, Alara,” I growl in her ear.
To my surprise, she doesn’t struggle to escape but squirms against me, her breath coming in small
pants as her already slick crease glides against my cock, enveloping me in its heat.
Frix, it’s too good. I won’t last if this continues. I grasp her hips, stilling her, and she shoots me a
mischievous look over her shoulder.
“How’s that brain working now that I’m closer? Any better?” She punctuates the sentence with a
little wriggle, and my teeth clench.
“Perfectly,” I grit out. I let one hand drift down between her legs, parting the swollen folds I find
there. She draws in her breath as I locate the small bundle of nerves and tease it, stroking around it
until she collapses back against me, her legs falling apart to give me greater access.
Good. I aim to undo her as much as she has undone me.
I stroke her until she quivers under my touch and then, mindful to retract my claws, let a finger
slide inside her, filling the tight channel. She grips me so tightly, arching against me, her head resting
heavily on my shoulder. Her heat is beyond what I’d imagined, and she’s so pliant, so welcoming,
that I add a second finger, stretching her and finding her depths while my thumb relentlessly massages
her clit.
Her breath stutters in time with the stroke of my fingers. “I’m so pissed that you’re good at this,”
she chokes out. “I shouldn’t enjoy this so much.”
I run my teeth along the side of her neck, then catch her skin between them, threatening her with
their points. From the clench around my fingers, I can tell she enjoys that, too, so I let my bite pierce
her skin. It sends her over the edge. Her salty blood floods my tongue as her cunt gushes around my
hand, enveloping me in her intoxicating scent. It’s as addictive as nomo smoke. I’ll never get enough.
I let her grind against my fingers, trapping her ass against my cock and using every measure of my
will to keep from joining her in her release.
Finally, she pushes my hand away, whimpering. With a pulse of satisfaction in my chest, I let her
go, and she turns to face me, straddling my thighs so her entrance is poised to take me. Though I want
nothing more than to lose myself inside her, I hold her up so she cannot sink down onto it. She growls
in frustration, her head falling back as she struggles to take me.
“Please, I need you inside me.” The ache in her voice pierces me. I want to give her everything
she desires. I need to. But first, I have to know what’s in her heart. I promised her on the day I stole
her from the fighting pits that I would not take her until we could understand each other, and I intend
to keep that promise. If I must torture her a little to get what I want, so be it.
I wrap one arm around waist, holding her against me, and use the other to tease her opening with
my cock. I drag the head back and forth through her folds until she moans with frustration. “Tell me
again, Alara. Why do you wish to leave my arms and return to your debtors? What can the Frathiks
give you that I cannot?”
 Ada
I FREEZE AT HIS QUESTION. It’s like we were flying, and then he pushed me out of the airplane.
My stomach drops, my heart stops beating, and my body, which had been one giant throb of heat, goes
cold, despite the sensuous warmth of the bathwater swirling around us.
“I told you. They have my sister,” I whisper against the hard muscles of his chest. While I’ve been
hot tubbing, she’s been captive. What kind of sister am I to forget that, even for a second?
Instantly, he drops his hands, nudging me aside until I roll to sit beside him. I feel incomplete
without his touch, missing it as soon as it’s gone, so I lean into him, pulling his arm around my
shoulders and burying my face in his side.
“Please, I have to go to her,” I beg. The place where he bit me throbs in time with my stampeding
heart, a reminder of my disloyalty to her. How did I let myself get so carried away?
“So it is your sister you wish to see, then, not the Frathiks themselves?” Lothan seems relieved,
swishing his free hand in the water, so that it makes pretty whirlpools in front of us.
“Her name is Lena,” I say miserably. “She’s with a bunch of other women, too.”
“All are terrakins like you?”
I wrinkle my nose at the unfamiliar term. “If you mean human, then yes. I’m afraid they’re already
gone. Taken somewhere else. I shouldn’t have let you—” I gesture around the bath, choking on the
guilt that I’d actually been enjoying myself. “We’re wasting time. Let me go so I can find her before
they sell her as a slave.”
He frowns at me, and my heart sinks even further. I was stupid to think he was going to let me go
so easily. But his objection surprises me. “We have no slavery on Irra nor any of the Five Planets.
Not even our pleasure moons. It is forbidden.”
“Um, you saw them selling me. Did you think I signed up for that?”
His brow furrows even further. “You knew the price of your passage, did you not? Surely, you
could not be surprised when the Frathiks demanded it. You had to pay the debt somehow.”
I scoot away from him, confused. “You think I asked them to bring me here from Earth? They stole
me from my bed in the middle of the night, just like you stole me from the fighting cave or whatever
that place was. I didn’t have a choice either time.”
“R’Hiza take them. I did not know.” His jaw clenches, the muscle working as he stares off into the
distance. It’s clear he is genuinely surprised. He must have had no idea the Frathiks were slaving.
“This is repulsive. And not only that, it violates their treaty with us. They must answer for it.”
I touch his arm, drawing his attention back to me. “So can we go get her—I mean, rescue all of
them?”
He jerks his head in a single nod, rising in one motion, the water sluicing off his body. “I will
ensure their safety, and then I will decide what to do about the Frathiks.” He begins to dry himself, his
movements quick and efficient. He grits his teeth when the towel brushes against his still-hard cock
and an opalescent pearl of pre-cum forms on its tip.
Yum. My clit twinges with regret that we won’t get to finish our bath, but maybe I’ll get the
chance to taste him later, express my gratitude for saving all of us before Lena and I head back to
Earth.
For some reason, the thought of leaving him behind makes my heart squeeze, dammit. I don’t even
want him to leave the room. He was right about the whole four-feet-away-is-too-far thing.
I stand up out of the water. “I’m going with you.”
“It’s not necessary.” He straps on his knives and then dresses as quickly as he undressed.
 “Maybe not, but I’m still going.” I struggle to dry off and match his pace. I manage to get the
dresses on and my sash tied around my waist and then find him eyeing me, looking smug. “What?”
His fingers and jawline flush bright red as he reaches out to trace a claw along my clavicle. “I
chose your sveli and sash well, that is all. They capture your colors perfectly.”
I roll my eyes at his possessive tone and go out to the bedroom to retrieve my headscarf from the
floor. But he catches my hand as I wind it around my hair.
“Please, Alara, wear the crown of our people. I have to see it.” He pulls the wooden box from the
table and runs his fingers over the inlaid design, and the yearning in his expression breaks my heart.
I hurriedly finish wrapping my scarf, shaking my head. “It hurt, Lothan. It doesn’t want me. I know
you do, but your goddess has a different opinion.”
He drops to his knees in front of me, and I nearly swallow my tongue. With the box in his hand, it
looks almost like a proposal, the kind I’d often dreamed of but never dared to hope for on Earth. “It
disgusts me to beg, but my life hinges on it. Please, Alara—” He breaks off, the title seeming to catch
in his throat. “The pain will be worth it, I swear.”
“Your life? As in, you’ll die?”
His eyes drift shut, and he grimaces. “Not my own death, but the end of my family line. Today I
heard my father’s last words—”
“I’m sorry for your loss. I know how that hurts, but it gets better in time,” I murmur, and his eyes
flick open.
“It is not his death that I mourn. He and I shared no affection. It is his last words that trouble me.
He was to select one of his sons to inherit the emperor’s throne, but rather than have us fight to the
death—” My gasp interrupts him, and the corner of his mouth quirks up. “What? You fear I would
lose? I assure you, I would not. This is far worse.”
“Then what’s the big deal? What is he making you do?”
“My father decreed that the son who finds his fated queen will rule the Five Planets. If his body
reaches the star before one of us does, then the priests will rule Irra instead.”
Ah. Now it makes sense why he thinks I am his Alara. He’s desperate. “So if I’m not it, then you
won’t get to be emperor?”
“You are it.” His stormy eyes turn to steel. “Wear the crown and let Alioth smile on you. You’ll
see. It is meant to be.”
I rub my forehead, the sting of the circlet’s burn still vivid even in memory. I’m not eager to
repeat that experience, but I can tell it would mean a lot to Lothan if I tried. Plus, it would save a lot
of time if I just proved once and for all that I’m not who or what he thinks I am.
But a little sprout of fear vines in my belly. What if, when he realizes I’m nobody special, he
doesn’t want to help me anymore? As long as he thinks I’m his queen, I have some leverage.
“Help me get Lena back from the Frathiks, and I’ll wear whatever you want.”
He sits back on his heels, the box on his lap. “A bargain? You strike a bargain with me? Your
sister for the crown?” His eyes narrow, and I start to regret the idea. I can’t tell if I just pissed him off
or if he likes the idea. He raises an eyebrow, calculating. “If I locate and free her, you will stay with
me and rule as empress?”
“I said I’d try on the crown and show you it isn’t true.”
“If it is true, you’ll stay?” he presses.
“Sure, fine. For all the women the Frathiks took from Earth, not just my sister,” I amend. I might
as well get as much as I can out of the deal. I feel bad that he’s going to be disappointed in the end,
but it’s not like I’m doing him a favor by pretending to be something I’m not, if it’s such a big deal.
Even if he can’t see through me, everyone else will.
He rises, giving a satisfied nod. “Good. We will eat and then locate this sister of yours. I’ll take
great pleasure in reminding some Frathiks of our laws.”
The cold glitter in his eyes fills me with hope, not fear.
He’s not lying. He’ll do anything for his Alara.
Too bad it isn’t me. But as long as he thinks it is, I won’t stop him from doing whatever it takes to
get Lena back.
Chapter 15
 Lothan
select my finest sveli. There is no point in concealing my identity on this visit to the arena. I plan
I to use every advantage I have to pressure the pitmaster for information. Money, power, blades. As
I dress, my father’s ruthlessness settles over my shoulders like a favorite cloak.
After a quick meal, we make our way down the cobbled streets of Loth’Irra toward the entrance
to the cave that houses the fighting pits. Curious stares and deep bows follow us, and I catch muttered
speculations about Ada when we pass. Even in an Irran sveli and headscarf, her smooth, fair skin and
delicate build stand out.
Some assume she is a concubine, but the females are more astute, noting that her garments are fine
and she walks beside me as an equal. “A princess from another star system seeking a mate,” one
woman blurts out loud enough for Ada’s terrakin ears to catch.
Ada chuckles under her breath. “Oh, the irony.”
“How so?”
Ada tilts her head to look up at me. “I told you—on Earth, I’m a princess. A pretend princess, for
my job,” she clarifies. “And I won a beauty pageant, once. So she’s kind of right, although probably
not the way she thinks.”
I tug her into a market stall full of toys and bright svelis and pull her against me where we can’t
be seen from the street. “And is she right that this alien princess indeed seeks a mate?”
Ada blushes and ignores my question. I take it as a challenge, bending my neck to nip her
succulent lower lip. She opens for me, parting her lips so my tongue can dip inside and tease against
hers. I trace the charming blunt shape of her teeth and her body shudders against mine. I can’t believe
how close I am to making her mine. I get lost in the kiss until I feel a tug on the hem of my tunic.
“Jara Lothan? Is it really you?” The round face of a tiny greenling beams up at me, her skin awash
in pale blue delight.
A female bustles from behind a row of shelves, hissing disapprovingly between her teeth in the
manner of a mother. “Do not pester the customers, Lothli.” When she sees me, she pulls up short and
bows. “My apologies, Jara. She does not know her place. She should not have disturbed you and your
—”
Her speculative pause as she looks Ada up and down makes my fists tighten in anticipation of the
label she might assign, and when the female notices, she wisely does not finish the sentence.
Alara, my heart screams, and the word festers on my tongue. But I can sense Ada’s stiff denial
beside me, so I hesitate to say it aloud until she accepts the role.
A king never hesitates.
My father is dead, I remind myself. His opinions do not carry the weight they once did. “No
apologies are needed. I am honored by her name.”
The woman flushes blue like her daughter, happy that I noticed the tribute. “May Alioth bless you
with many greenlings of your own, Jara.” Her gaze slides to Ada and back to me. She is guessing the
truth, or close to it.
“You’re very beautiful,” little Lothli chirps to Ada. “Are you a princess? You don’t wear a
crown, so I don’t think so.”
The mother’s eyes widen, fearful Lothli has insulted her. I ready to make excuses, but Ada
crouches down, so her eyes are at the same level as the greenling’s.
“Do you think a crown is what makes a princess?” she asks gently. Lothli’s brow furrows slightly,
and I translate Ada’s question, although I think I may fear the answer as much as the mother, whose
skin shows a ripple of dark purple before she wrestles it down below the surface.
“No. She could take it off and still be a princess,” Lothli decides, and a smile crosses Ada’s face.
“That’s right. A princess wears her crown in her heart. It reminds her to be kind and helpful to
everyone, even when nobody knows who she is. And the wonderful thing is, anyone can be a princess
in her heart. Did you know that you are a princess, too?”
My own heart stutters. The greenling looks at me, wide-eyed, waiting for my translation, but I can
hardly form words. The goddess’s wisdom is great. She could not have selected a more perfect mate
for me, a more perfect queen for our people. Though she is not Irran herself, Ada sees the value in
this greenling, this treasure of our species. And though she denies she is my Alara and refuses to wear
the crown, she could not act more like one, and that is because it is as she says—the crown is already
in her heart, whether she believes it or not.
“Tell me, what did she say?” Lothli prompts me with another tug on my tunic. Her mother
grimaces, ready to spirit her daughter away at the first indication she has overstepped.
“Worry not,” I reassure her with a chuckle, then dutifully play translator for Ada, much to the
small greenling’s delight.
When they have finished their short conversation, and we leave the market stall to make our way
down the road, I overhear Lothli say to her mother, “I think she is a princess.”
Ada’s terrakin ears do not catch it, or she pretends they don’t, but I can tell she enjoyed the
encounter. It’s clear she loves greenlings, and if this is the way she treats a stranger, I can only
imagine how she would treat her own greenling. Our greenling. My skin warms as blue as her eyes at
the thought.
Though I can’t read her color, she seems happy. Her face is bright, her shoulders relaxed, and she
begins to ask questions about the people we pass and the city itself—the food sold from stalls and
doorsteps, the braxas hauling loads up the cliffs, the goods being hawked by sellers both Irran and
otherwise.
I answer them all, delighting in her curiosity about our planet. It’s only when the mouth of the cave
that houses the fighting pits is visible in front of us that her steps slow, and her lilting questions cease.
Her breaths come faster, and she grabs my arm unselfconsciously, drawing close to me.
“Is this it?”
A surge of possessiveness overtakes me at the tremble in her voice. I don’t want to see her there
again, in the place where she was held against her will. From what she described to me, she and her
sister were treated no better than livestock, abducted and held against their will with force and
threats. It is unacceptable, antithetical to the Irran way of life. I’m eager to find and punish anyone
who was responsible. Anyone who knew.
“All will be well,” I say to her. “I am Jara. They cannot deny me.”
A guard at the mouth of the cave blocks our entrance. “No fights today,” he grunts. Then, his eyes
widen when he recognizes the embroidery of my sveli, and he sweeps into a bow. “But one can be
arranged, should you wish. I can take you to the pitmaster.”
This is as good an excuse as any, so I give a single imperious nod. Ada’s fingers tighten on my
arm. “Take us to him.”
The guard scrambles to do my bidding, and we follow him down the stone steps into the cave,
where workers are repairing the damage from the riot that ensued after I forfeited my match to the
greenling. They hardly glance up as we pass, but every flicker of movement draws my hands to my
blades. It would be rare for anyone to raise a weapon against the king, unthinkable three days ago, but
a slave auction in Loth’Irra would have been unthinkable, too. I am ready for any threat to my Alara
or my people, whether it comes in the form of an assassin or simply a corrupt businessman.
The guard gestures to a robust metal door at the end of a narrow stone passage. He raps on it and
then leaves us with haste, apparently eager to be absent when the pitmaster answers.
“What now?” comes the irritable response from inside.
I let my voice ring with its full authority. “Open in the name of Jara Lothan, King of Irra, son of
Chanísh, Emperor of the Five Planets.”
Silence from inside the door, and then a guarded voice filters out. “May Alioth smile on him.
Enter.”
My jaw clenches—he should have rushed to open it—and I turn the handle myself, finding it
unlocked. The pitmaster rises hastily from behind his table piled with documents, likely records of
the fights and auctions that take place within his arena. A former fighter himself, he still has the broad
build and narrow waist of a warrior, though he’s thickened with age. He does not wear his red paint
today, and I notice his robes hang against the wall.
“Jara. I did not realize you, yourself, were present. My apologies.” He raises his head, spots Ada,
and his lips twitch. “Returning the merchandise you...purchased?” He probably thinks he’s being
diplomatic, refraining from mentioning that I didn’t actually pay for her.
Ada tenses, and I pull her into my side protectively, stroking her upper arm in reassurance. “Quite
the opposite. I come to question those who would imprison and sell a sentient species. Such things
are forbidden on this planet, as you well know.”
His frown carves deep lines into his cheeks. “We sell debts here, not flesh. Each sale comes with
the contract, specifying the term of service and the rate of pay.”
Ada’s laugh lands like a sword on my neck. “Let’s see it then,” she demands. “Whatever your
name is, I want to see my contract.”
I translate for the pitmaster, and he offers her a cursory bow. “Pitmaster Pravil, at your service.
Your contract was not completed, given the unusual circumstance of your...purchase. If you would
like, I can draw it up now.”
“That won’t be necessary,” I snap. “This terrakin was abducted from her home planet and sold
against her will. Her ‘sale’ was null and void.”
He blinks innocently, although there is no evidence of surprise. “I had no idea, I assure you. This
has never happened before.”
“He’s lying,” Ada says flatly.
“I agree. And he will pay the price,” I add, for the benefit of Pravil’s ears. “You will give us all
records of the terrakins who were sold here, the names of their buyers and copies of their contracts,
so they can be located and freed. And you yourself will face justice. The leniency of your sentence
will depend on whether they are found, so I suggest you provide all the documents in your
possession.”
He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “My regrets, Jara. The auction was
disrupted before the others could be sold. She is the only one who found a buyer.” He injects as much
irony into his tone as he can without offering a direct insult. “The Frathiks left with their merchandise,
perhaps for a planet with friendly laws.” I don’t like how he says friendly, as a criticism of Irran
ways.
“I hope I do not detect regret in your tone, Pitmaster,” I growl.
“I regret the loss of income, that is all.” He gives a careless shrug.
“He’s still lying.” Ada’s voice vibrates with anger, and bright spots of color blaze in her cheeks,
even brighter than the flush of orgasm. “They sold Bree. They took her out to the auction block before
me, and I know they sold her, because she didn’t come back.”
My belly heats with unexpected pleasure—another excuse to kill the pitmaster. One, for using a
greenling as a champion against me. Two, for allowing the flesh market. Three, for lying to me, his
Jara. That’s all I need.
“It seems your ghost will visit R’Hiza, Pravil, both for your lies and for your disloyalty. Anyone
who protects the Frathiks in their despicable trade cannot be trusted to live.” My knife is already in
my hand as I move toward him, and I see the resignation in his eyes. “Turn your back, Alara. This is
not for your eyes.”
My blade is already on his neck when she grabs my arm. “Lothan, stop!”
A faint line of blood appears on the pitmaster’s neck, but I stop myself before my blade pierces
his skin and turn, puzzled. Perhaps my queen is not used to bloodshed. I realize I do not know how
justice is dispensed there. Our methods, however swift and humane, might seem barbaric to her
species. But the desire to end him is strong enough to choke me. “He does not deserve your mercy,” I
grit out.
“He knows things. I can tell. He knows where they are. But if you kill him...” She gestures to the
stacks of documents on the desk. “I doubt he even wrote it down, if what he did was illegal. It’s all in
his head.”
A quick glance at Pravil confirms he understood the core of what she said. Quiet triumph burns in
his eyes, and he raises his chin defiantly, stretching his lips into an ingratiating smile. “I may recall
some details that would interest you, although my memory is faint.”
I drop my knife, disgusted. Wiping the blood from it on the sleeve of his garment, I gesture to him
with its point. “Go on. Demonstrate your usefulness.”
He fumbles with his paperwork, pushing scrolls about as though he’s searching for something. “I
am an old man,” he wheedles. “My memory is not what it once was.”
“Perhaps I should jog it with my knife.”
“Perhaps an old man could not withstand your methods. You understand.” He appeals to Ada with
his hands. “I cannot think with weapons waving around. I’m a businessman, not a brute. I am used to
balance sheets, not blood.”
A snarl coils in my throat. He thinks he can manipulate her, use her mercy as a tool against me. I
should’ve killed him already. I give in to a dark imagination—returning later, entering by stealth,
sinking my knife into his back with the satisfying give of flesh under blade. I push down the thrill that
blooms under my skin at the thought.
But rather than cooing with sympathy, my little queen straightens, her eyes flashing. “You had no
problem with weapons waving around when you had me in shackles. You had no problem with
bloodshed when you sent a warrior to slaughter a child.”
As I translate her words and the pitmaster’s eyes widen, my chest swells with pride. My Alara is
no tool to manipulate. She’s no piece of flesh. She’s a queen in her heart.
Chapter 16
 Ada
t’s pretty obvious what this guy wants. His mention of balance sheets was not an excuse—it was a
I hint.
“How much? What’s your price?” I tap my foot impatiently while I wait for Lothan to turn my
words into the Irran language.
When he delivers my question, the pitmaster gasps in offense, although he’s a pretty bad actor.
“Pravil has credits to spare. Pravil only asked for the weapons to be sheathed so we might have a
civilized discussion for our mutual benefit.”
Why do assholes always talk in the third person? Normal people just do not do that. “The way I
see it, the main benefit you’re getting is that you’re not going to die today.”
Something hardens behind his eyes once he hears the translation, and he directs his answer to
Lothan, ignoring me. Done with the little lady, I see, now that I haven’t swallowed his load.
“I told you what I know, Jara. The Frathiks took their undamaged merchandise and fled. I expect
they have returned to their ship. Where that ship may be, I could not say.”
Lothan growls even as he slides the knife back into its sheath on his thigh. He turns to me. “I will
contact the Eye. They track all ships that visit the Five Planets. If the Frathiks are in this star system
or the next, we will find them and make them pay.”
Out of the corner my eye, I see the pitmaster sag with relief now that Lothan’s attention has
wavered. He thinks he’s off the hook. “Wait. What about Bree?”
“The terrakin that sold,” Lothan spits at Pravil. He’s at the pitmaster’s throat again in a second,
pressing the man into his chair. Damn, he is so fast. “Who was the buyer? Think carefully before you
lie to me again.”
“He—he looked like he was from one of the pleasure moons!” The pitmaster struggles, his face
turning dark. I can’t tell whether it’s his emotions showing or Lothan’s tight grip on his neck cutting
off his blood supply.
Lothan gives him a little shake, making him squeal. “Which one?”
“I was overseeing a fight, Jara. The auction was across the arena, too far to make out any details.”
The pitmaster’s lips quiver. Though his face is the picture of slobbering acquiescence, I notice the
rest of his body is calm, and his right hand creeps under the table.
“Knife!” I shout as a bladed weapon flashes in a wide arc. Lothan jerks back, crouching warily as
the pitmaster rises to his feet, switching the wicked-looking curved blade he’s produced from under
his desk to his other hand.
“Stay behind me, Alara, while I finish this fool.”
Lothan doesn’t have to tell me twice. This Pravil guy is a snake, and my feelings on violence have
changed since the Frathiks took me from my bed. On Earth, I would’ve said the justice system should
take care of him. He should get a lawyer and go through due process, answer for his crimes in front of
a judge. But that was when I trusted laws. I thought they would protect me from things like getting
abducted by freaking aliens.
Guess what, there’s no moral order in space. 9-1-1 operators don’t answer your calls. There’s
only right and wrong in the moment, no promise of justice later.
The pitmaster isn’t pretending to be old and weak anymore. He shrugs off his cloak, and
underneath, he’s dressed in the open tunics that Lothan favors, ones that let him reach his weapons
easily. Turns out he had knives under his clothes the whole time. He draws a second blade that
matches the one he pulled from under the table and circles Lothan warily.
 Lothan gives a dark chuckle. “You draw blades against your king. You are so eager to die, yet you
will not strike?”
“If death comes either way, I see no reason to hurry.” Pravil’s eyes flick to me and back to
Lothan. No, not to me. To the door behind me.
“He’s waiting for his guards to come,” I say swiftly. “I think when he pulled out that knife, it set
off some kind of alarm.”
The room tilts in slow motion. We were crazy to come here without backup. Did I really believe
that we could waltz in, ask for the release of enslaved women, and just get it with no trouble? What a
naïve fantasy. The pitmaster’s guards are going to kill Lothan, and I’m going to be back in the cage
where I started, my little jaunt to the palace just a meaningless detour.
Pravil sees the waver in Lothan’s focus and takes that opportunity to strike, blades glinting,
movements sharp and efficient. Businessman, my ass. This dude is lethal.
At the last instant, Lothan steps aside, and for a brief moment, those curved blades are pointing
right at me instead. But then the pitmaster is on his back, his knives clattering on the stone floor.
Lothan has his knee on the pitmaster’s chest, his knifepoint digging underneath the man’s jaw, and his
voice is sharp as any blade. “Speak your last words now.”
Pravil’s chest heaves with the effort, rasping out the words under the weight of Lothan’s knee.
“The Frathiks—took—their undamaged—merchandise.”
Lothan hisses through his teeth. “You waste your last words on excuses?”
I brace myself to watch the pitmaster die, but then realization ripples through me, and I suck in my
breath. “Wait. Let him up for second.”
Lothan stiffens, pressing the knife point in deeper, and blood begins to run in a steady stream,
pooling on the floor. “He will not use you against me, Alara. He deserves to die for what he’s done,
and he will, though perhaps more swiftly than I’d like.”
The sound of voices in the passageway outside the door makes my heart beat faster. We only have
seconds, if that. I pick up the pitmaster’s discarded weapons and kneel beside Lothan, holding them
behind my back, beyond the pitmaster’s grasp. “He said they took the undamaged merchandise. That
means some were damaged. They left some behind, and he knows where they are.”
“Is it true?” Lothan repeats my claim to Pravil, who presses his lips together until Lothan pulls
back the knife. Then he gives a quick nod, and Lothan turns an admiring gaze on me.
“My brilliant little queen,” he breathes wonderingly, and I feel my cheeks flush under his
attention. He does things to me with those stormy eyes.
From the floor, Pravil says dryly, “My guards are at the door. Perhaps you will live if they enter,
Jara, but will your terrakin? Her skin is so thin.”
With a growl, Lothan leaps to his feet, putting his weapons and his body between me and the
door. He motions with his knife to Pravil. “Send them away. You wish to talk, we will talk. And if
your words please me, maybe I will not cut out your tongue.”
Pravil takes his time dusting off his tunic until a pounding on the door prompts Lothan to growl
again. Pravil sighs and pulls his cloak around his shoulders, then opens the door. With a swift hand
gesture, he motions them inside.
Lothan hisses as three broad-shouldered aliens rush into the room, circling us. They’re almost as
big as he is, and all are completely naked except for the leather thongs around their biceps and thighs
that hold their knives. It’s everything I can do not to stare at what they’re packing between their legs.
This goddess of theirs has blessed the Irrans with certain assets. I briefly wonder if this naked
fighting thing is a distraction tactic before I’m pulled back to the tension of the present moment by
Pravil’s gravelly voice.
“Remove him,” he directs, pressing a hand to his neck. His fingers come away bright with blood,
and when he sees it, his skin darkens to charcoal. The first guard draws his blades at the command but
hesitates when Lothan’s voice rings out.
“I am Jara Lothan, King of Irra. If you raise a hand against me or my queen, you will feel Alioth’s
teeth. Pravil faces death for his crimes, and if you defend him, you will be subject to the same
judgment.”
“Does he speak the truth, boss?” The guard gives Lothan a doubtful once-over, pausing on the
fancy outfit. He seems genuinely torn.
Pravil winces as he attends his wound from the relative safety of the corner opposite us. “Jara
Lothan has no queen. Everyone knows that. Remove this pretender to the street and put the female
with the others. I shouldn’t have to tell you twice.”
My heart pounds in my ears as all three of the guards advance, weapons drawn. Lothan should’ve
killed the pitmaster when he had the chance, I realize. No matter how skilled he is as a fighter, his
odds against three warriors—four if you count Pravil—aren’t good.
When the first guard reaches him, Lothan springs into action, his limbs moving so quickly I can’t
follow them. Two seconds later, the guard lies dead on the floor, and the other two are suddenly less
eager to join their colleague. Pravil makes an irritated noise, pushing between them, and pulls the
weapons from the dead man’s hands.
“You”—he points to one of the guards—“try not to damage her.” He nods to the other guard, and
the three of them attack as one, forcing me and Lothan apart.
I still have Pravil’s blades, and I brace myself for a fight. There’s no way I can win, but I hope to
get in a few hits before I’m back in chains. The guard the pitmaster assigned to me grins wolfishly as I
face off with him. His blade flicks out, quick as a lizard’s tongue, to catch my headscarf on its tip. He
yanks it from my head with a hiss of satisfaction as my hair falls into my eyes.
“Now, I wonder what that sveli hides, little tili-head,” he mocks, darting in to slice the knot of my
sash open when I push my hair out of my face. He pauses to enjoy the view as my outer dress falls
open, his cock stiffening against its strap in one giant pulse.
“Enjoy that dick while it’s still attached your body,” I snap back. Then I lunge, aiming the curved
blade at his crotch. His reaction is slow, maybe because all the blood has left his head, but still fast
enough that I miss my target. The edge of my knife makes contact with his inner thigh, drawing blood
in a long, thin line.
A roar rips out of his chest. He’s not playing with me anymore. With one swift motion, he knocks
both blades out of my hands and grabs me by the hair. I only have a vague sense of the fight beyond
him, Lothan’s terrifying roar and the clash of weapons, before he raises the handle of his knife and
knocks me unconscious.
Chapter 17
 Lothan
can’t lose her now.
I Seeing Ada dragged from the room by her hair is like fuel on the fire of my rage. My vision
blackens, and my ear membranes slam shut, blocking out the sounds of the fight and the echoes of
Ada’s last scream. I’ll do anything to reach her, to get her back. The thought of her locked up, at the
mercy of these Irrans, or worse, returned to the Frathiks...
The remaining guard slashes my ribs. The sting of his blade makes me hiss, and I return the favor,
but I can’t afford another error. I can’t afford to think of her, or I might lose her.
Desire is weakness, my father says. For once, he is right.
I force myself to focus and regroup. I can’t find Ada if I lose this fight, or even if I win and am too
injured to reach her. My current opponent is much like my brother Thren. Large, overpowering, but
lacking nuance as he hammers me with blows. If I wait him out, he will tire and make more mistakes.
I change my strategy, slowing the pace, allowing him to expend effort chasing me around the
room. Pravil is hanging back, only getting in a strike here and there when I get too close, just enough
to drive me away. He is using the same strategy I am, I realize, hoping I will exhaust myself battling
the guard. He knows I’ll win eventually, but then he’ll be able finish me off more easily.
My strategy shifts. Pravil is the head of the beast, the teeth on the saidal. If I strike him down, the
guard will be little more than a severed paw. I barrel toward the pitmaster, catching him off balance
and knocking him to the floor. As I crack one wrist, pinning the other to the floor with my blade, he
has the presence of mind to shout, “Go! If he kills me, slay the female!”
The guard trips and falls over his dead companion on his way out the door but scrambles to his
feet and disappears down the passageway. Frix.
Pravil’s eyes blaze up at me, still defiant. He thinks he can win, even though I have his weapons.
“What now, Jara? Will you send my ghost to the goddess if it means the end of your pretty pet?”
I would love nothing more than to finish him, and I think about it, imagining the satisfaction of
severing his windpipe and seeing his blood bubble with his last breath. But I think for this Irran, there
is a fate worse than death. I jerk him to his feet, binding his wrists with the milky blue sash his brute
slashed from Ada’s waist.
“I was right. You don’t like a fair fight.” He smirks, but I can smell his fear. He can barely keep it
under his skin.
“I hardly call four against one a fair fight. A bit like a warrior fighting a greenling, don’t you
think?”
His mouth twists at my comparison. “You are no greenling.”
“A pity,” I snap. “For a greenling showed mercy, did he not? And I have none for you. Take me to
her or you’ll die on your knees right here.”
“Your thirst for my blood will only kill her more quickly,” he warns. “You can walk away with
your female. Buy her at a fair price and leave me to do my business in peace.”
I almost laugh. “You insist on payment? I will kill you the second she is in my arms. What good is
coin in your hand when your ghost meets the goddess? You collaborate with slavers. They will die,
and you will die with them.”
“Don’t destroy a whole species over something so slight as a debtors’ auction.” He spreads his
hands, as though undermining our law against slavery was just a quirk of business, a mere necessity.
“The Frathiks would be allies were it not for Chanísh.”
At the mention of my father, I growl, knocking his legs out from under him and forcing him to his
knees. “Don’t tarnish his name with your dirt-covered tongue, Pravil. He would never condone
leniency when it came to the Frathiks. They showed no mercy to our people so we show none to
theirs.”
He grunts as he hits the floor, his feet flushing orange with pain. “Why would they show mercy
after what Chanísh did to them? The Frathiks should have leveled Irra.”
“He did what was right.” I pull his head back, letting the tip of my knife trace along his jaw,
nestling under his chin. “And so will I.”
“You’re as wrong as he was, then. About all of it,” he stutters out. “I was there. I know what
happened. Why the goddess never smiled on your father. He didn’t deserve it.”
That statement is so traitorous that it gives me pause. Pravil is of a similar age to my father.
Perhaps he knows more about him than I realized. I lighten the pressure of my knife and stand back.
“You knew him.”
“Yes, and I will tell you what I know if you spare me. Your female will be safe as long as I am
alive.”
My curiosity gets the better of me. I can always change my mind later. At my nod, a flicker of
triumph colors his features blue, and I tighten my grip on my weapon. “Speak quickly or my mercy
will vanish as quickly as a warrior’s sveli.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, wincing, his tone surprisingly earnest. “I knew Chanísh and Oljin when
we were greenlings. We trained together. We fought in the pits together, visited the pleasure houses
together. Alioth forgive me, but you are better with your blades than Chanísh ever was.”
His compliment, designed to sway me, falls flat. His pitmaster patter can’t distract me from his
manipulations. His eyes narrow, his pupils lazy behind his lids. Assessing my weaknesses. “He did
not tell you about the circumstances of his brother’s death? I thought he would tell his own sons, at
least.”
My mouth sours with impatience. “The story is known. Oljin was kidnapped by the Frathiks.
Despite hiring many armies to complete the task and destroying their planet, my father failed to rescue
his brother, and Oljin was killed. Or at least, never seen again. We lost a prince, they lost a planet,
and both our peoples’ histories are permanently stained by the war. Perhaps you should be more
concerned with the circumstances of your own death, considering how loudly my blades sing for your
blood. Their music drowns out all your chatter.”
“No. That is far from the truth.” Pravil hums dismissively. “Let me up, and I will give you the
story. You can kill me when I’m done, if you like. But I think you will regret doing so before you
know what really happened.”
A king never hesitates, my father chides me from his bierbird.
Will I ever stop hearing his ghost in my ear? I yank Pravil to his feet and push him into his chair.
He twists to avoid impact on his arms, still bound behind him, but he stills when I hiss at him. “Speak
and be quick about it. And remember that every scratch on my female’s skin will find its way to
yours.”
He chuckles darkly. “You will not kill me after all?”
“I might, but only after you’ve felt every pain you inflicted upon her.”
“Then I will be swift. I was Oljin’s friend, not your father’s. I was with him in the market one
afternoon, right here in this cave, when he saw her. His Alara.”
I suck in a breath. “Oljin never—”
“Are you telling this story or am I?” Pravil snaps, his voice brittle and suddenly old. “He bought
her, borrowed coin from me to do it. She was the same species as your female, or something very
close, and she’d been very badly treated by her owners.”
“Frathiks?” I growl, still not quite believing his tale.
“No. Others, I don’t remember. Whatever they were, they didn’t know how to care for her, or they
didn’t want to. Either way, she was ill, terrified, and didn’t speak or understand Irran. Oljin didn’t
know what to do with her, so I offered my home as a place of respite.”
“I’m sure you did,” I say silkily, circling his chair and letting the point of my knife drag around his
neck, reminding him his life is mine. “Let me guess. Your generosity was so great that Oljin felt
indebted to you, and I should remember his debt now that he is not alive to repay it.”
“No. I said nothing like that.”
Something tugs at my gut. Pravil may be stalling, giving his lackeys more time to take Ada
somewhere I cannot find her. I stop circling and press my knife into his neck, finding the gap between
spine and skull. “Finish this lie so we can be done with it.”
“He cared for her, fed her,” Pravil spits out desperately. “He taught her Irran, and he learned
some of her tongue. I believe they loved each other. When she was well enough to walk, Oljin took
her to the temple for the priests’ blessing. But they were met with assassins instead. So they ran.”
Surprise bursts through me, and my knife slips, piercing his skin. Pravil barrels on, holding his
neck forward, away from my blade. “I don’t know what happened exactly, but Oljin told me it was
your father who betrayed him. Chanísh realized he had a chance to be Jara. It’s likely that, desperate
for power, he convinced the High Priest that the supposed Alara was a liar. A hired pleasure worker.
And the priests believed him, or maybe they believed that the goddess would never choose a fated
queen who was not Irran. Either way, Oljin and his Alara were both charged with treason, and a
bounty was put on their heads.”
“I have never heard of this.” My mouth tastes of earth. I don’t want to believe Pravil’s story, but it
rings of truth. It explains why, after all my father did to gain her favor, Alioth still did not smile on
him. Still did not bless him with a fated queen. She chose Oljin to rule, and Chanísh...
I nearly bite my tongue in my haste to ask, “Did he kill them?”
Pravil shakes his head, a tiny movement to avoid being pricked by my knife. “They escaped. I
know this because I bartered with some Frathiks myself to smuggle them out of our star system. And
your father—”
He stops, waiting for me to finish the story for myself, and my mind reels. This is the story I have
always known but also entirely different.
My father conspired with temple priests to deny Irra its goddess-given fated queen.
He took the throne when it was rightfully his brother’s.
He declared war on the Frathiks—not because they kidnapped Oljin, but because they helped
Oljin and his queen escape.
And then my father destroyed a whole world to cover up his lies.
Chapter 18
 Ada
wake to softness surrounding me, the sun warming my skin. I keep my eyes shut, afraid of what I’ll
I see when they open. Because I know I’m not in an underground slave dungeon, and I’m not in pain,
which means I must be dead.
A sweet, melodic voice says hesitantly, “Ada? Are you awake?”
An angel? No, Lena. Maybe she’s dead, too.
I sit up so fast my head spins, but it’s not Lena’s face I see when my vision finally clears.
Hannah’s huge, worried eyes meet mine, and she reaches out to press the back of her hand against my
forehead.
“How you feel? You’ve been out for two days.” Her brow scrunches. “We’ve been really
worried about you.”
I blink, my eyes adjusting to the bright sunlight pouring down on me, and look beyond her at the
room around us. I’m sitting on a large bed with soft, lavender blankets in a cozy room lined with the
sand-colored stone that seems ubiquitous on this planet. I don’t recognize it, although it has the huge
windows and expansive views of Lothan’s palace.
Delphie pops her head out of an open doorway that I realize must lead to a bathroom. She grins
when she sees me and comes out, still smoothing lotion into her arms. I hope it’s not the purple stuff.
Before I can warn her, she says, “Sleeping Beauty’s awake? Hell yes, it’s about time.”
“What happened?” I ask, still not quite believing this is real as she plops onto the bed next to me.
“The last thing I remember is trying to cut some alien’s dick off.”
Delphie cracks up. “Sad to say, it didn’t work. He still had his dick when he dragged your
unconscious ass into our cell. He was pretty pissed, though, so you must’ve gotten close.”
“We didn’t know what was going on,” Hannah says softly. “We thought you’d been sold before
—”
“All hell broke loose,” Delphie interrupts.
“So when he dragged you back in, we thought maybe your owner”—Hannah winces at the term
—“brought you back. You looked dead, Ada. We really thought you were dead.”
“Well, I’m not. Where’s Lena? Is she okay?” I scoot to the edge of the enormous bed, swinging
my legs over so I can stand up. The blood rushes from my head and the floor tilts.
The next thing I know, Hannah is hovering over me again, her eyes a well of concern. “Lay down.
You need to take it slow.”
“Stop trying to die on us, dammit.” Delphie leans over me, too, although she looks more amused
than worried. I notice she’s wearing a red sveli, and her sash, which matches her deep brown eyes
perfectly, is artfully tied. So is her headscarf. Mooni must’ve helped her dress. We are in the palace.
That means Lothan won his fight with the pitmaster and his guards and rescued me, somehow. I try
to sit up again, but Hannah and Delphie firmly push me back into the pillows. I struggle against them,
trying to wrench my shoulders out of their grasp, but I’m quickly exhausted.
Hannah purses her lips at me, unwilling to let go until I relax every muscle and collapse into the
pillows. I give up, pouting. “Fine. I’ll rest. But only if you tell me everything that happened, in
detail.”
Delphie drops my arm, her eyes sparkling as she sits back on her heels. “Let’s see. First, your
butt-naked boyfriend shows up.”
“He’s a king, Delph!” Hannah says indignantly.
Delphie rolls her eyes. “Fine. Your butt-naked king.”
 “He’s not mine,” I say.
“Mmm, okay. But you’re definitely his.” I open my mouth to object, but she shoots me a look.
“You want to hear this or not?”
I settle back in the pillows, frowning.
It’s Hannah who picks up the story, her soft voice curling in my ear as she lays next to me on the
bed, staring at the curved ceiling above. “He had that guy with him, the one who runs the place. At
first we thought Lothan was there to buy us or something.”
“But then we saw the knives,” Delphie says with a note of glee, flopping down into the pillows
and jostling us both. “I never thought I’d say this, but the knives really cheered me up.”
“It still feels like a dream. Lothan made him unlock the door, and we just walked out.” Hannah
shakes her head disbelievingly.
“Well, you didn’t walk out, Ada. Butt-naked boy carried you all the way back.” Delphie toys
playfully with a lock of my hair.
“King,” Hannah corrects again. “He explained to us about how you’re his fated queen and stuff.
It’s so romantic, Ada. It’s like—it’s one thing to find your soulmate on Earth, but it’s another thing to
cross the universe to find him. It’s like something out of a movie. I can’t wait to tell my husband about
it when I get back. And my daughter, when she grows up enough to understand. Not everyone gets to
feel love like that.” Her voice goes dreamy at the end.
Delphie smiles at her across the bed. “Kind of how you’re going to cross the universe to get back
to your family? That’s some powerful love, too. Your husband’s a lucky guy.”
“If we get back.” Hannah worries her lip with her teeth. “I just hope he believes me about what
happened. I hardly even believe it myself, and it happened to me. He’ll probably just think I relapsed
and abandoned them. Even I thought I was on drugs for the first few weeks we were on the ship,” she
muses, pain creasing her face.
“Finish the story,” I beg, sitting up again to give Hannah’s hand a sympathetic squeeze. “Where’s
everybody else? Where’s Lena? Did they...” I trail off when I see their expressions, already knowing
the answer.
“The Frathiks took Lena with the others,” Hannah says gently, touching my shoulder so I’ll lie
back again. “When things went crazy at the fighting pits, they came and tried to drag us away before
the mob got to us. Delphie and I fought back, and they hit us. Knocked us out. I think they left us
behind because we couldn’t make the hike back to the spaceship. We woke up in the cage with
nobody else there.”
Fear explodes in my chest, filling my lungs and suffocating me, making my ears roar with panic. I
roll over, pressing my face into the pillows to muffle the sob that tears out of my throat. It’s not like I
expected Lena to be there at the pits, all safe and sound. I knew the Frathiks had probably already
sold her or taken her somewhere else, but I had hoped. Oh God, I’d hoped.
Two sympathetic hands rub my back, and I try to get my anxiety under control. Two more days
lost, while I was unconscious. Lena’s two days farther away. She could be so far away now. I try to
do the math, but my stomach rebels, overwhelming me with nausea.
“Lothan’s going to find her,” Hannah says. “He’s got some guys tracking down the Frathiks’ ship.
He’ll get her back. He’s pretty obsessed with it.”
The news that he’s been looking while I was out lights a tiny spark of hope in the back of my
mind, and I desperately reach for it.
Maybe the two days weren’t lost. Lothan was looking for her. And he rules a whole planet with
spaceships and stuff. If anyone can find her, it’s him.
 The spark glows a little brighter, and my stomach settles. I take a deep, shuddering breath and
focus on gratitude. Things aren’t all bad. Hannah and Delphie are safe now. That’s something. And
we found out Lena wasn’t sold, so that’s good news, too—sort of. At least it narrows down the
search.
“Dude really loves you,” Delphie says, her lips bunching in amusement. “He wanted to keep you
in his room, but we wouldn’t let him. We wanted to make sure he wouldn’t—you know—before we
gave him access to your unconscious body.”
“He wouldn’t do something like that,” I say instantly, flipping over. “He wouldn’t even fuck me
when I begged for it.” Delphie guffaws, and I clap my hands over my mouth.
Hannah’s eyes bug out. “You begged him?”
I pull a pillow over my face and mumble into it. “I asked nicely.”
Delphie pokes me gently in the ribs. “Hey, I don’t blame you. I’ve seen the goods, and the goods
are pretty damn good, if you know what I mean. If you don’t want him, I’ll—”
Irrational jealousy crashes in my ears at the thought of Delphie putting her hands on Lothan.
Anyone putting their hands on him. “No. He’s—”
“Yours?” She smirks at me, her eyes dancing, when I lower the pillow, and I realize she was just
teasing me.
I shake my head, a little sadly this time. “He thinks I am, but it’s just not true. It’s some religious
thing in their culture. Just some myth. They think the star goddess chooses the queen. I don’t know
why Lothan thinks that’s me, but obviously it’s not real.”
Delphie shrugs. “Why not go with it? Open yourself to all the possibilities. Two months ago, we
all would’ve said that aliens weren’t real. That deep space travel was impossible. That all that stuff
was made up, invented by writers or crazy artists like me. That reality is more boring, more
straightforward than fiction. But maybe that mentality is wrong. Maybe the universe holds everything
we can imagine and more, not less.”
It’s a tempting thought. I can picture a happy life with Lothan. He’s a good king, but he’s more
than that—he’s a good person. He’s kind and fair. A badass fighter who’s saved me more than once.
And he’s sexy as hell. It wouldn’t be hard to pretend to be his queen. I’m good at pretending, and
maybe if I pretended long enough, it would feel real...
But it’s hard to imagine a happy life without Lena in it. Plus, what if the whole fated queen thing
is true and his real one shows up someday? Best case scenario, he’ll dump me, and then I’ll have to
fend for myself on an alien planet. Worst case, I’ll be punished for my deception. Jailed, tortured,
executed. Who knows?
I swallow hard and shake my head. The fantasy is tempting, but it’s just that...a fantasy.
Hannah grabs my hand, biting her lip. “It’s fine if you just want to go back to Earth. There’s
nothing wrong with fighting for that. It’s completely normal to want things to go back the way they
were—I know I do. I’m sure Lothan will allow you to come with us, if that’s what you really want.
That’s what we all want, right, Delph?”
Delphie gives a slow nod, although I sense some hesitation in her expression. “Sure.”
I squeeze Hannah’s hand and then drop it. I understand where she’s coming from, because she has
a lot to go back to. A loving husband, a house, a daughter. But all I have is Lena. And Lena isn’t back
on Earth. She’s still out there—somewhere.
My stomach growls noisily. I haven’t eaten during the time I’ve been unconscious, and my body
has finally realized it’s starving. I clap my hands over my belly when it yowls again.
Hannah giggles. “Oh my gosh, I’ll go get you some food.” She disappears into the hallway,
leaving the door open behind her. Through it, I spot Lothan lingering in the passageway outside.
“Someone wants to see you,” Delphie says, amusement in her voice. “I think I’m going to go get
some food, too.”
“No, stay.” I try to grab her arm, but she slithers it out of my grasp, and with a mischievous look
over her shoulder, leaves me.
“Go get her, loverboy,” she says on her way past him.
Lothan appears immediately. “I am pleased you are awake, Alara. I thought I had lost you.” His
voice is so full of relief and happiness that I close my eyes against the tidal wave of pain that rolls
through me. There’s nothing to celebrate, and I can’t pretend otherwise. Lena is still missing. So are
Jaya and Andi and the others. The next second, I feel him at my bedside, so close I can feel the heat
radiating from his skin. “I have a gift for you. A surprise,” he amends.
That gets my eyes open. I sit up, grimacing against the dizziness that pulls me down like a
whirlpool.
He steadies me, frowning. “Perhaps you need more rest.”
“I’m fine,” I say, searching his face for a clue to the surprise. Has he found Lena? Or some sign of
her? “Just tell me, don’t tease.”
“But I enjoy teasing you.” A flash of his pointed teeth as he traces a stuttering line down my arm
with one claw. Goosebumps raise in its wake, and my traitorous pussy heats, already drooling for
him. I guess it likes his teasing, too. But I can’t waste time playing around, as fun as that might be.
I brush his hand away. He can’t distract me with pretty words and gentle touches, not when so
much hangs in the balance. His skin edges from the sandy color of the walls to something closer to
gray.
“I have displeased you,” he murmurs, rising. “Another time. It can wait.”
Shit—I’m screwing this up. I should be thanking him for saving me yet again, not pushing away
the one person who can find Lena. Who maybe has found her.
“Just tell me.” Even to my own ears, my voice is exhausted, fading around the edges. “You can’t
say you have a surprise and then not tell me what it is. That’s against the rules.”
He freezes halfway to the door and turns back to me. “Whose rules?” he asks in the voice of
someone who makes the rules. Commanding. Dominant. Sexy as hell.
I wouldn’t mind following his rules, I think. No, that’s my clit talking, not my head. I clamp my
thighs together, but that just tweaks my swollen flesh and makes it worse. Lothan’s nostrils flare, and I
know he can smell my arousal swirling around us.
“Mine. Tell me,” I command in my best party-princess voice, even as my cheeks burn with
embarrassment.
He inclines his head to me, a little bow. “Your wish is my law, Alara.” He injects so much heat
into the word that I feel like I’m going to pass out. Then he goes to the door and pushes it wide open.
When I see who’s standing there in the hall, I really do pass out.
Chapter 19
 Lothan
hatever reaction I expected, it wasn’t this. I pushed Ada too far, too soon. And the poor little
W greenling—he’s so dark with fear when he sees her lose consciousness that I worry about
him, too. He has been through much loss in his short life, and I rescued him from the pits to end that
kind of trauma, not add to it.
“She will wake,” I reassure him, cradling Ada in my arms. “Fetch some water and a cloth.”
He scurries into the bathing room, and I steady my racing heart as I stroke her forehead. She will
wake.
As if she heard my thoughts, her eyes flicker open. “Sorry,” she breathes.
“As am I. If I had warned you—I only wanted to—frix.” I lower my forehead to press against
hers. Maybe I was wrong to surprise her, as I’ve been wrong about so many things. I feel her hand on
my arm.
“It’s okay. You saved him. I’m glad. He didn’t belong there.”
The greenling, the one who stood against me so bravely in the fighting pits, returns with a bowl
and cloth and catches the last words of our exchange. He stands uncertainly at my side, squinting at
Ada. “I’m a good fighter,” he says, jutting out a stubborn little jaw.
I nod to him. “Yes, but there is always more to learn. You remember Biinjloth,” I add to Ada. “I
traded Pravil’s life for him.” For the greenling and the three terrakin females.
“Everyone calls me Biinji,” he says, holding out the bowl to her. A ghost of a smile crosses her
face, and her grip on my arm tightens.
“Hi, Biinji. I’m Ada.” She struggles until I realize she’s trying to sit up. With my help, she raises
up enough to take the bowl from him, allowing me to dip the cloth in the cool water and press it to her
face as she looks between us. “How does a child have debts? Where’s your family?”
Pain stains him orange, and his eyes drop to the floor, so I answer for him. Biinji explained his
situation to me when I brought him to the palace. His mother died after a long illness, and the healer’s
bills had been too high to pay. His father secured a lucrative job mining epylium ore but could not
afford the necessary tools, so he traded Biinji to Pravil to cover the costs.
I grind the points of my teeth, thinking of it. To send a greenling to the fighting pits was...if not
despicable, then regrettable. Trading away a greenling should not happen here. The father should
have come to the palace and begged for my charity. I would have given it in an instant, made Biinji a
warrior’s apprentice. Fed and housed and educated him until he was a warrior himself.
“So why didn’t he do that?” Ada asks, frowning, when I explain all this to her in sanitized words
fit for Biinji’s ears.
“He still had the healer’s debt to pay. And he could not take the mining job without money for
tools. Pravil was only too happy to give it to him in exchange for a fierce little greenling to bring
interest to his stable of champions.”
“I’m a good fighter,” Biinji repeats stoutly. “I beat you.”
I incline my head, hiding my smile. “You did. I wear your scar proudly on my neck.”
His father’s solution was not a happy one, but it was a solution. He and Biinji would both work to
pay their family’s debts, and then they’d reunite. He’d planned to send for his son when the debt to
Pravil was paid, but Biinji had heard nothing from him for weeks.
“I’m so sorry,” Ada says softly to him. “I know what you’re going through. My parents died when
I was little, too.”
“I’m not little.” Biinji’s orange tint returns. “My father will send for me. He’s just too deep in the
mines to use the comm.”
I give Ada a slight shake of my head as I put the cloth and bowl of water aside. I asked Dorel to
investigate when we returned to the palace, and after a brief inquiry, he confirmed my worst fears.
Biinji’s father had been killed in a mining accident. The greenling was alone under Alioth’s eye now,
without family.
“Well. You may stay here with us until that day comes,” she says gently.
Here with us. Those three words steal my breath. Perhaps she plans to stay here on Irra, after all.
With me.
Until that day comes. Sadly, the day will never come, and she knows it. If she keeps her promise
to Biinji, she will stay here with me and Biinji forever. Or at least, until Biinji is grown into a
warrior himself and no longer wishes to live here at the palace. That is many years in the future.
“Right, Lothan?” she prompts, catching her plump lower lip in her teeth, begging me with her eyes
to let him stay.
“Yes, of course,” I say automatically. “You will have whatever you need, as long as you need it.”
Biinji’s eyes flash, sensing an opportunity. “All the food I can eat? I eat a lot,” he warns.
Ada giggles, nodding.
“Training?” he prods me.
“Of course.” I will find a warrior to teach him. A kind one, one who will not use pain and
humiliation, as I was taught, but gentle correction. Something tugs at me, and I swallow. “I will train
you myself.”
“New blades?” he begs, unsheathing his small pair to show me the nicks and scratches along
them, evidence of many clashes in the pits. Not all his opponents had kneeled just because he was a
greenling.
“Yes, little warrior. Find Dorel. He will outfit you with weapons and a sveli that reaches past
your knees.” He grimaces at me, tugging the hem of his too-small sveli lower as he makes a hasty exit.
When he bangs the door shut behind him, I return my attention to the goddess-given vision in my arms.
“New blades will keep him busy for some time, I think. And Mooni is sure to feed him well.”
“What will happen when he realizes his dad isn’t coming?” Ada asks. Her eyes are a deep well
of tears as she looks up at me. Frix. This was to be a happy surprise. I thought she would be pleased
to see Biinji freed from the cage, given her love of greenlings.
“Do you have some sort of erfn-nij here?” she asks. The word doesn’t translate. At my frown, she
explains, “A home for all the children without parents? Or do you have a fawstur system?”
My puzzlement grows as my language implant grinds with the effort of finding a synonym. The
word it eventually spits out means “false.” That can’t be right. “What is this fawstur?”
She blinks rapidly. “Like a temporary family for Biinji, just until he grows up?”
“This is something from your planet?” I frown. The idea of a family being temporary is baffling.
“Greenlings are precious here. He would be taken in quickly by another couple who would raise him
as their own. We will find such a couple for Biinji if that’s what he desires. Or he can stay here as a
warrior’s apprentice.”
She lets out a sigh of relief, her eyes fluttering closed. “Good. I was afraid—” She stops herself
from finishing the sentence, her lids squeezing tight against the tears that leak from the corners of her
eyes. “I was afraid he’d end up like me.”
Chapter 20
 Ada
othan presses his lips to my forehead and then kisses his way down my face, brushing away my
L tears with his mouth. For a second, I let myself forget, let myself luxuriate in the sensation of his
skin against my skin, lower and lower, my nipples tightening in anticipation of more.
“What happened to you on your planet?” he asks, jolting me out of my enjoyment. When I don’t
answer right away, he guesses. “After your mother died, you had one of these...false families?”
I swallow and nod, my tongue tasting like ash. “Not one. Many.”
He brushes away the tear that rolls down my face. “And they did not show you love and
kindness.” He states it as fact, like he knows my story. My face must reveal more than I realize.
I don’t have the energy to unearth all the memories I have buried. All the cruelties, small and
otherwise. Even the indifference hurt. What it’s like having all your possessions crammed into a
garbage bag before you’re pushed out the door, just because you spoke up or resisted mistreatment.
How, after you changed families a few times, you learned to accept it, endure it, just for the stability
of knowing what’s coming. Sometimes I’d even invite it, if it took bad attention away from my sister.
“As soon as I turned eighteen, I got custody of Lena, and we moved out on our own. It’s just been
the two of us since then. We’re the only family we have.”
“Now you have me, too. And I swear to you, I will make sure Biinji does not have this kind of
false family.”
If only it were that simple. I close my eyes as more tears slip out, and Lothan kisses each one
away, his breath warming my skin like the first sunbeam after a rainstorm. He moves down my neck
and shoulder to my arm, and as he kisses down my bicep, every square inch of my skin begs for him,
hopes he’ll pull my sveli open and continue past its borders, too, covering every part of me with the
hot path of his lips. My pussy adds its ache, desperate for him to end the chaste presses and use his
teeth and tongue, too.
Ugh. How can I be so selfish and enjoy myself at a time like this?
I edge my arm away, and Lothan takes the hint, his touch vanishing, although I can still hear the
soft sounds of his breath, feel the warmth radiating from his nearness.
“I’ve done something wrong,” he finally says, breaking the silence.
“No. Not that.” I clear my throat as awkwardness cools my desire, although not nearly as much as
it should. Every cell of my body prickles with awareness of him, awareness of the space between us
that also feels wrong, like it’s an effort not to reach out for him and pull him close again. “You’ve
done everything right. I was just thinking about Lena. How terrified she must be without me there to
protect her. It’s hard to be happy when she’s still in danger. I can’t do this, Lothan. Not until she’s
okay.”
“Do what? Converse?” He looks genuinely befuddled now. Why doesn’t he get it? I can’t relax
and make out with a hot guy while Lena is locked in a cell. I want to scream at him, shake him, but it’s
not Lothan I’m mad at. It’s the whole universe.
I motion between us, my chin quivering with emotion as my stomach does a sickening flip. “I can’t
pretend everything is fine until I know where she is. Until I know she’s safe. As much as I want you—
I can’t.” My voice ends in a breathless whisper, my body at war with my mind. I can’t tell which one
will win out.
His eyes are fixed on my mouth, and he reaches out to brush his thumb against the sensitive skin of
my lips, dragging my desire to the surface. He leans close, and I feel myself straining toward him,
begging for the kiss. But he holds back, stopping himself at the last minute to murmur, “And what if
you knew where she was? Could you be happy then? Could you forget yourself for a moment?”
Damn. It’s so wrong, how much I want him. So selfish. “It’d be a start,” I whisper.
He flashes a triumphant smile at me, and a shiver runs down my spine, imagining those teeth
scraping down my neck again. “Then I’m happy to report that the Frathik ship carrying your sister has
been located.”
I sit up, ignoring the dizziness that makes me sway on the bed, and clutch his hand, pressing it to
my chest. “You found her? Why didn’t you say anything before? Where is she? When can we go get
her?”
He stares at me, frozen—or rather, at his hand I have basically forced to grab my boob. I drop it
immediately, even as I feel my shameless nipple tighten even more, tearing a groan from his chest as
it presses into his palm.
“I forgot myself. I’m sorry,” I say, my cheeks heating with shame.
He raises his gaze to my face and lets his thumb graze my pebbled nipple as he slides his hand off
my breast, sending a pulse of pleasure to my core. He traces lazily up the edge of my sveli’s deep
neckline, and when he reaches the top, he pushes the fabric a few inches to the side so he can nip my
collarbone. I feel his teeth catch my skin, a tiny sting that’s soothed immediately by a soft flick of his
tongue. “I sent a bird to intercept the ship and escort it back to Irra. They’ll arrive with the new day
—”
My breath catches. Lena will be here tomorrow?
He smiles at my reaction. “I hope you can forget yourself again. At least until then.” He dips his
head, trailing kisses up my neck until he reaches the corner of my mouth. My lips throb, anticipating
his teeth and tongue, but again, he holds back, keeping the tiniest bit of space between us.
Wrong. I close the gap, crushing my mouth into his.
The scrape of the door opening catches my ear, and I jerk back, pressing my fingers to my lips.
Delphie and Hannah giggle and flee, leaving a tray on the floor and closing the door on their way out.
The scent of the food on the tray reaches us, and my stomach growls loudly.
Wow, there goes the mood. I clear my throat and mumble an apology, but Lothan just grins, his
eyes wandering over my body. I can almost feel the heat of his gaze as it moves over my curves,
pausing to linger on my traitorous belly and then shifting lower.
“Are you hungry? I am.” His voice is deliciously wicked and prompts a rush of heat between my
legs as I remember the view with his face between them, the feel of his teasing tongue. He shifts on
the bed in a subtle adjustment, and for a brief moment, I see the shape of his hard cock press clearly
through the fabric of his trousers.
Oh. My. God. Any physical hunger I feel is dwarfed by my hunger to taste him. To feel him inside
me. To belong to him, even if only for a little while.
“Please.” It’s the only word I can think of, and I repeat it again and again until his lips slant over
mine, stealing my breath and drowning me in our mingled desire.
Chapter 21
 Lothan
t takes everything I have to break away from her sweet mouth. She makes a noise of protest, which
I I silence with another aching kiss. R’Hiza take me, she is everything, and I’d love nothing more
than to forget myself in her body, but the muttering sound of her hunger reaches my ears again, and I
won’t ignore her needs in favor of my own.
“You need food.”
“Later.” She pulls me down on her, trapping me with one pale, delicate leg wrapped around my
hips.
I can’t resist settling into her, letting her feel my full, hard length pressed between her thighs. She
arches up against me, her heat penetrating the layers of our svelis as she moans into our kiss. I can’t
help smiling against her lips. She wants this as much as I do, my greedy little queen.
I have to force myself to break away from her mouth again. “I have plans for you later, Alara, and
I fear you won’t survive them without food.” I retrieve the tray from the floor where the terrakin
females left it and take it over to her on the bed.
They were thoughtful enough to bring a meal for both of us— a large bowl of traxilla stewed with
herbs. Beside it are two spoons and two cups of hot nomo, which I set to the side. Nomo tea reduces
strong emotions, which is the last thing I wish for this evening. I want to feel everything. I want her to
feel everything.
Ada starts to sit up, reaching for one of the spoons, but I shake my head as a primal need unfolds
in my chest. “I will feed you,” I growl, more bluntly than I intend.
Her lips, still swollen from my earlier kisses, part slightly, but to my surprise, she doesn’t protest.
Instead, she settles back into the cushions, her eyes following my hands as I dip a spoon into the stew
and offer it to her. She makes a small moan of pleasure when she tastes it.
Pride and desire mingle under my skin, seeing her hunger met. If she lets me, I’ll satisfy every
hunger she has for as long as the goddess smiles on us.
“This is so good!” she chatters between bites. “What is it called?”
“The meat is from a traxilla. A flightless bird that lives in the grasslands. It is easy to catch and
breed, so it is a common food here. We call the dish traxilla as well, but it can be flavored many
ways.”
“It reminds me of pesto and chicken. I haven’t tasted anything like this since I left Earth. On the
ship, they only fed us—” She breaks off when she notices my dark expression.
I arch an eyebrow, my mouth sour as I think of how she and the other terrakins were treated by the
despicable Frathiks. “Did you expect that I would serve you slave rations?”
“I’ve only had those green biscuits, so I didn’t know what your other food tasted like. They’re
good, too,” she says hurriedly, twisting her hands awkwardly. Frix, I let my anger at her captors
overwhelm me, and now I’ve made her think she displeased me.
I touch her cheek, hoping my apology transmits through my skin. “In the old times, Irrans were a
nomadic people, and much of our food is designed to travel well and be light to carry. Dried meat and
those...biscuits.” I try to say the word in her language, my mouth fumbling around it. I’m thankful to
see a smile quirk the corner of her lips at my poor pronunciation.
She opens her mouth for another bite, then closes her eyes, savoring it. Male pride swells within
me. I am providing for my queen, strengthening her. She is mine, and I will treasure her and care for
her until my ghost meets the goddess.
“What does that color mean?” she asks, and I realize she’s staring at my skin. I look down and see
that my fingers wrapped around the spoon are tinged with lavender.
Embarrassment floods me that I’ve let the color break through without warning her. I clear my
throat. “Forgive my skin. I find it hard to control myself in your presence. I will do better, Alara.”
She frowns, lifting a hand to trace the lines of my face, her touch as delicate as starlight. “Why are
you apologizing? I know your skin shows your emotions, and that’s not a bad thing. I just wanted to
understand you better.”
A king never apologizes. A king never begs. Desire is weakness, my father intones, the words
bouncing like pebbles inside my skull. I clench my teeth and drive the voice away. I have nothing to
be ashamed of, showing my Alara my heart. My father’s words stemmed from his bitterness over
never finding his fated queen, and perhaps his guilt over what he did to his brother. His regrets could
never be soothed. I know that now.
“In our culture, it is polite to keep our colors below the surface, to avoid making others
uncomfortable. But I have no reason to hide the meaning from you. Lavender is the color of mates. Of
love.” I offer her another spoonful of traxilla, but she ignores it, her eyes on the floor, lower lip
caught in her teeth.
Something I said made her doubt the truth of my words, but I don’t know what. Perhaps I should
have had that nomo after all, calmed my emotions, spared her the discomfort of seeing them bloom in
full color. “Forget you saw it, if you can. I did not mean to disturb you.”
She shakes her head mutely, denying that I’ve unsettled her, though it’s clearly the truth. Finally,
she says, “How can you love me? You’ve known me less than a week, and for half of it, I was
unconscious.”
Her doubt bothers me. Perhaps it’s because she isn’t Irran. Maybe terrakins don’t trust their own
hearts. Or maybe the goddess does not speak to them, does not show them her light in the same way.
“We cannot falsify our skins. They display the truth. With great control, we can make them match our
environment, that is all.”
She makes a face, casting her eyes down to where her fingers worry one of the bed cushions. “The
blankets are purple.”
I cover her hand with mine to stop her nervous motions. “I do not match myself to the frixing furs!
My skin shows that you are my Alara. You were chosen by the goddess for me because your soul
matches my soul. You belong to me. Can’t you feel it, the connection between us? I don’t know
another way to explain it, but you have to believe me that it’s true. We are destined to be together
forever.”
She lifts her milky blue eyes to meet mine. “I believe that you believe it’s true,” she says slowly.
“But you do not?”
“It’s just not how we do things where I come from. We take more time to
determine...compatibility. It’s not a purely physical thing. We try to use more logic.”
My fingers curl. It’s clear Ada believes I operate on superstition. That my thoughts are clouded by
lust. I should have kept my colors to myself, let her believe we were on some winding journey and
not already in the center of the star. She does not accept the goddess’s decree. She thinks she can just
walk away without disordering the universe.
I set down the spoon on the tray and put it aside, a dangerous desire to prove her wrong growing
inside me as I lean over her, hungry for more than food. “You have doubts, even now?”
She gives a brief nod, and her breath quickens as I deliberately untie her sash, tugging it free of
her body. I can smell a wave of her desire. She feels it, too—the physical pull to join our bodies. Our
bond will solidify once we’ve truly come together, and then she’ll no longer be able to deny that our
souls are joined as much as our physical beings.
I push open the front of her sveli, pleased when her transparent underdress reveals the shadow of
her nipples, the dip of her navel, the dark triangle between her legs. The generous spread of her
thighs. She is truly the goddess incarnate, lying beneath me, and the thought of plunging into her depths
makes me clench my jaw so hard that the points of my teeth ache.
But I force my hand to be gentle as it skims over her flesh, mapping the contours of her breasts
and shoulders until she writhes under my touch, begging for more without using words.
“How about now?” I grit out. “Do you doubt that we are fated? That our bodies and souls call to
one another. Do not lie to me, Ada. I will know.”
“Yes,” she whispers so low I can barely hear the sound. Her doubt persists.
I hook one claw over the edge of her inner sveli’s neckline, and with one swift, vicious stroke,
slice it to the hem. She gasps as the fabric falls away, revealing everything, and tries to cover herself
with her hands. But I pin her wrists above her head, thrusting her breasts up enticingly.
“You cannot hide from it, Alara. You cannot hide from me.” Not all parts of her flush—only the
ones I’ve touched. Her cheeks. Her neck. The space above her luscious breasts.
The interplay of pink and pale is mesmerizing, and I let my tongue trace the contour between her
nipples, from peak to peak, teasing their hard points and then sliding to the soft valley between,
watching to see if this area changes color, too.
My lips curve into a smile when it does, the evidence of my attention spreading in a beautiful,
rosy map, and I move lower, lapping at the undersides of her breasts, taking turns between them until
she whimpers with need, grinding her hips against me. She’s not trying to hide anymore, so I release
her wrists so I can move down her body, letting her feel my breath against her skin.
My tongue circles her navel, and when she writhes, I let my teeth graze a path down, down, down
toward her slit, where the perfume of her arousal is begging me to taste. I slide one finger between
her swollen folds and feel her tight, slick channel embrace me.
She shudders, and the skin on her belly and thighs changes texture before my eyes, drawing up into
tiny, hard bumps that raise the intriguing, nearly invisible fur that covers her body.
A fear response? I pull back, my claws sheathing instinctively. “Have I hurt you?”
She presses her mouth into a blade and shakes her head, her breath stuttering as her hands clutch
the tantu-colored cushions that surround her, seeking me with her body. I grasp her hips, stilling her,
and she whines, “No—keep going.”
“Tell me we are fated,” I demand, pressing her into the bed, grinding against her heat even as I
deny her what she begs for. My cock throbs, anticipating the words on her lips. I need this—I need
her faith, her belief, her acceptance—even more than I need her body. “Tell me you feel it in your
bones, in your core.”
Her hips jerk, but still she cannot say it.
“Please,” I beg her, though kings do not beg. In this moment, I’m no king. “Lie to me, Alara. Lie to
me so I can prove it to you.”
Chapter 22
 Ada
can’t do it.
I It should be easy to do what he wants. Just say the words, pretend to go along with it. It’s not
like I haven’t lied before, given false compliments, faked orgasms with guys who didn’t care about
my pleasure one way or another and just wanted to check the box to make themselves feel good. And
this should be easier, just a line in a script.
Yes, we are fated. Stick your dick in me, please. I’m dying for it.
But for some reason, I can’t. I can’t lie to him. Not with those stormy eyes that can see to my
center looking straight at me.
A flash of pain crosses his face. He can tell. Crap.
With a groan, he rolls off me, the disappointment in his voice echoing in my ears as he stares up at
the soft, curved stone of the ceiling. My body instantly misses his heat, shrinking in on itself, the
longing between my thighs intensifying to a spine-cracking ache.
“That doesn’t mean we have to stop, does it?” I roll over and reach out for him tentatively. Press
my palm flat on his chest and let it wander down his torso. His skin is smooth and soft over the hard
muscle underneath, like suede over stone. Lavender and red and black tendrils bloom under my touch,
disappearing when I lift my hand away as though I’d imagined them.
I wonder if his cock changes colors, too.
I bite my lip and slide my hand lower, slipping under his waistband, seeking, but he grabs my
wrist to stop it as he rises from the bed. I eye the tent he’s sporting. He still wants me, that much is
clear. I don’t know why he’s so hung up on this fated queen stuff. We’re both consenting adults. I’m
grateful for his help and want to show him. We should be able to have a little fun before I go back to
Earth, even if it doesn’t mean a lifelong commitment. Especially when I can tell it’s going to be so
delicious.
I shrug the remains of my shredded dress off my shoulders and stand up, blocking his exit.
Shameless, but I left all my shame back on Jupiter or Neptune. “One for the road?”
I can tell he doesn’t understand the expression, but his eyes are devouring me, raking up and down
my body, and when I reach out to cup him through his trousers, he hisses, the raspy sound slithering
around my neck until I’m breathless.
“I won’t take you.”
But he doesn’t push me away, and his cock twitches under my hand, hardening and lengthening
even further until it’s impossibly huge, and I can feel each bump and ridge through the fabric. Any
illusions I had that he was basically human vanish. This is not a regular-guy dick. This is a magic sex-
god dick.
“Why not?” I grasp him, step closer so I can guide his length between my legs. My nipples brush
against his suede-soft skin and tighten with an exhilarating pulse.
The sex god slides both hands into my hair, tangling his fingers in it like it’s the only thing keeping
him in check. He tips my face up to look into my eyes and speaks in a tight voice, like he’s straining
against some invisible bond. “If I claim you, I will never let you go. And I cannot bind you to me
unless you feel the truth in your heart.”
Damn.
“It’s not my heart where I’m feeling the truth at this exact moment.”
His lips twist, showing a flash of teeth, but his amusement evaporates just as quickly. “You don’t
know what you’re asking for.”
 “Explain it to me.” I test him, dipping one hand inside his trousers to meet his heated hardness.
His skin is always a few degrees warmer than mine, but this feels so hot it might burn me, and the
warmth spreads up my arm like his cock is a match that lights my blood on fire. I find the root and
stroke it to the tip, where he’s already oozing. I rub my fingers in it, sliding them around the flat,
slightly cleft head, exploring it. A flood of Irran words leave his lips, all of which my language
implant is apparently too polite to translate.
I decide that’s encouragement and drop to my knees in front of him. His cock bobs inside his
pants, and impulsively, I lean forward and bite him gently through the fabric, letting my teeth nibble
down his full length, grinning against him as I feel his fingers tighten in my hair.
“You don’t have to do this. It is...unwise to spend more time together.”
“You promised we could get to know each other,” I remind him as I untie the sash keeping his
trousers up and let them fall to the floor. Unencumbered by garments, framed by the sexy leather
straps that hold up his knives, his cock bobs up in front of me, and I see another shimmering drop of
moisture form on the cleft tip. “You already know what I taste like, Lothan.”
His whole body flickers fire-engine red as he groans at the memory, or maybe at the sound of his
name in my mouth, and I feel a flood of moisture between my legs, too. I keep the tremble out of my
voice and add, “It’s only fair for me to taste you before we part ways, don’t you think? That’s all I’m
asking for. That’s all I want.”
I loop my hands into the leather straps so he can’t twist away from me and lean forward to flick
my tongue over the head, capturing the silky moisture, letting it spread over my tongue. It tastes acidic
and bright, like citrus, like freshly peeled tangerines. Like the bright, open sky that stretches outside
the window, promising a whole universe beyond it.
One of his hands fists tighter in my hair, the other reaches to grasp the base of his cock. He drags
the head across my lips, holding my hair so I can taste the fresh pulse of pre-cum but can’t take him
into my mouth. I try to pull him closer with the straps, but he resists just enough.
“This is all you want? Nothing more?” He speaks the word in English, like the first time, before
we could understand each other, his tongue twisting around the foreign consonants and reminding me
of how it twisted around my clit.
Bastard. My legs are trembling with desire, my skin electrified every place that he touches—my
scalp where his fingers part my hair. My nipples when they brush against his muscular thighs. My lips
when he lets his delicious dick drag across them again. My tongue when I dart it out to sweep around
the head as it passes, eliciting another groan from him.
“More,” I pant, confessing with my gaze as much as my words, because I don’t think I can get a
full sentence out right now.
He shutters his stormy eyes, seeming somehow resigned as he tightens his grip in my hair. He
feeds the head of his cock between my lips, guiding my mouth onto his length, his knuckles bumping
against my lips as I pick up the rhythm, delighting in the slide of heat that rushes through my whole
body at every stroke.
Yes. This is what I want. This abandon, this taste, this fullness that crowds out every other
thought. My lips are stretched wide, and with every movement, he hits my limits, inches past them one
delicious stroke at a time, one hand supporting my head, one hand protecting me from his full length
until I am ready. Until I open for him.
And I do. Lips parting, knees quaking against the floor, throat relaxing, pussy dampening and
aching to be filled. So empty, so ready. Finally, he slides his full length into my mouth, hitting the
back of my throat and sending convulsion of need through my whole body even as I choke on it a little
bit.
I feel his balls contract under my chin, the skin on his cock tightens slightly on my tongue. He’s
close, close to letting me have what I want. More.
But then he’s gone. My mouth left empty, slack, wanting. I open my eyes, blinking in the bright
sunlight that presses through the windows. I beg for him to come back, but instead he pulls me to my
feet, crushing down on my mouth, his tongue a faint echo of his cock as it invades my mouth.
I can feel his hardness press between my legs, nudging my clit, and I can’t resist grinding on it,
sliding back and forth on his length until he groans into my mouth and pushes me down onto the bed,
covering my body with his.
He positions himself at my entrance, deliciously stretching me with the head of his cock. So
impossibly, perfectly huge.
“Say it,” he demands. I know he wants, but I can’t give it to him. I can’t lie to him, so I tell him the
truth instead.
“I need more,” I whisper. He stares down at me, his face as stormy as his eyes. And then, in the
swirling, gray pupils, I see drift of blue, like a cloud. He blinks and it’s gone. Maybe I imagined it,
but I don’t have time to wonder, because he gives me more.
In one piercing moment, he gives me all of it.
Every inch.
Every ounce.
Every color.
Chapter 23
 Lothan
s I sink fully into Ada’s heat, all I can think is that now I know the true meaning of the word
A Alara. Alioth incarnate, divine embodied. Because this is beyond simple sensation, body
inside body. This is like fucking the center of the star.
I am consumed, ablaze.
I don’t know the color of my own skin, only that it is alight. My color is her.
I can’t tell where I end and she begins.
All I know is that Ada and I are joined, every movement echoed, amplified, planet-shattering. Can
she feel this, too, the proof of our bond? Or is this another thing the goddess reveals only to me? I
force myself to focus on her face as I claim her, unable to stop the twist and slide of my hips.
Her eyes are as wide and wild as a stalking saidal’s as she matches my rhythm. She senses my
hesitation and digs her tiny, blunt claws into my back, pulling me closer until I can feel her searing
heartbeat through the press of her breasts.
She feels this. She is this.
“More,” she begs in my ear, and the word is like a key that unlocks my seed. I blaze into her,
pulsing, my body wracked with pleasure, and I feel her channel clench and undulate around me as she
tips over the edge and my name tears from her lips. “Lothan, oh—oh God.”
Goddess, she is divine. And she is mine. Mine to worship for the rest of our days.
When the force of our joint pleasure subsides, I can’t bear to leave her body, so I roll over,
pulling her with me. Her hair makes a golden curtain around our faces as she leans forward, still
straddling my cock, to nip my lower lip.
“That was good,” she murmurs.
I sit up, grasping her hips, and rock into her again. “Only good?”
She sucks in her breath, laughing at the same time, and tries to pry her legs off me, but I hold her
firm. Already, my cock is hardening again inside her, and her eyes widen as she feels it grow. I give
her hips another shake, grinding against her clit, and she dissolves against me, sliding a hand down
between us to block the sensation.
“Too much,” she says thickly. “This is too much. I need time to recover.”
I lift her off me in one smooth motion and settle her beside me, tucking her under one arm as I
cover us both with the lavender bedclothes. Lavender, for mates. For love. This bed is hers if she
wishes it. If she accepts what is true, finally.
“Do you believe me now that our bodies have joined? Was that proof enough that you are my
fated queen?”
“Is it—is it always like that for you?” she asks, answering my question with another question. An
infuriating one, after what we just shared.
I slide my hand to cup between her thighs. “I touched the goddess in you. I felt the center of the
star.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“You didn’t answer mine.” I let my forefinger nestle between her folds, teasing her opening. It
flutters around my knuckle, greedy and welcoming as I press slowly into her.
She arches, grinding against my hand even as she argues with me. “Maybe you touch the star every
time.”
I choke back a laugh as I add another finger and find a spot inside her that makes her head fall
back when I press and rub against it. “I do not. Only with my queen. Only you.”
 “You probably say that to all the girls. It’s a great line, really. I bet it makes the panties drop.”
She’s babbling nonsense words in her language, her body contradicting them as her nipples tighten
and evidence of her fresh arousal coats my hand. “It doesn’t mean we’re soulmates.”
I slide my thumb to circle her clit, punishing her with pleasure for her denial. “You’re right. I do
not see how I can rule the planet with you beside me. I would never leave my bed. Perhaps one of the
other, less interesting terrakins would be willing to—”
She growls and grabs my cock, squeezing and digging in her little claws. “Don’t finish that
sentence if you want to keep this.”
Her jealousy pleases me. And I’m only happy to show her how much.
Hours later, when we are sated and exhausted, I carry her to the bath. The queen’s bathing pool is
as well-stocked as my own, I see, and I settle her into the water before stepping in myself. The
additives are instantly soothing, a milder version of the healing pool in the concubines’ garden, gently
repairing our sore, strained muscles and bruised flesh as we soak.
Ada leans her head back against the side and lets her arms float, her face blissful. She’s happy
here, with me. Is she happy enough to stay? When she is reunited with her sister in the morning, will
she still want to return to Earth?
“Tomorrow,” she begins, and my heart sinks. She’s thinking of the same thing. “Once we have
them back, how soon can a ship be arranged to go back to Earth?”
I grit my teeth, stilling my tongue. She has not said she’s leaving herself. She is merely concerned
for the other terrakins. “I do not know, exactly.”
She raises her head to look at me, frowning slightly. “I thought you were the king. Don’t you
command all the ships?”
“None of mine can travel so far,” I admit. Irran birds are planet-hoppers, but they don’t have
capability for interstellar travel. Those technologies require factories, universities, mining operations
that strip our planets—cranacs where people gather like animal herds and submit to another’s
command. Distasteful. Unimaginable.
Ada makes a dismayed noise, and I rush to add, “But there are other species who do. Irra has
deep epylium mines, and we trade ore for what we need.”
“Like with the Frathiks.” I can hear her heart hardening in the timbre of her voice. “You’re going
to send us back with them, are you?”
“I will not be sending you anywhere.” The words slip out, low and threatening, before I can stop
them. Her eyes flare wide, not like a saidal now but like its terrified prey.
“You’re keeping me prisoner.” She says it like it’s a truth that she’s known all along, like she’s
relieved to have it out in the open, finally.
I taste bitter earth in my mouth. The idea of Ada staying with me against her will is revolting. If
she truly doesn’t believe she is my Alara, it will be my uncle’s story all over again. I can keep her,
use her to claim the emperorship. But if she refutes it, the Eye will not accept her as my Alara. They
will kill her, somehow. And they will rule the Five Planets in my stead.
Better to let her go. At least then, she would be alive. Her eyes flick around the room—to the
window, to the door, back to me—and I realize she’s looking for a way out.
So I give her one. “There is more at stake than you realize, Alara. And I hope, after I explain
everything, you will choose to remain with me and be my queen. But I promise you, if you do not, I
will use all the coin in my treasure house to make sure there is a seat for you among the other
terrakins on a safe passage to your Earth. On my father’s throne, I swear it.”
 Ada
HIS VOICE IS THICK, and he won’t look at me. “I will not delay your return to your home planet, if
that is what you desire.”
There’s something desolate in his tone, a crack in his arrogant veneer, and the sound is so painful
that I’m drawn to comfort him. I slide over to his side of the giant bathtub and lean into him, pressing
my hand against his chest. He puts an arm around me, idly toying with a lock of my hair as I snuggle
up against him, waiting for his explanation.
“My father lived the last years of his life as a monk,” he begins. “This is not because it was in his
nature to deny himself the pleasures of a planet. It was because he was desperate to regain the favor
of the goddess.”
“Because of the low birth rate. Mooni told me about it,” I add when I see his surprised
expression.
He drops a kiss on my forehead. “Clever queen. That is certainly our people’s greatest challenge,
but he retreated to the Eye for private reasons as well. He carried guilt for the things he did. For his
offenses against the goddess.”
My chest tightens. I knew Lothan’s father never found his fated queen, but I didn’t know the whole
story. “What offenses?”
Lothan tips his head back, so I can’t see his expression. “They were many. But the greatest was
against his brother, Oljin, who found his Alara and should have ruled Irra. But my father was jealous
and convinced the priests that it was all a lie. That Oljin’s Alara was a pretender. And the priests
were eager to believe it because she was not Irran. They—”
“Killed her,” I finish.
“No,” he says, surprising me. “They tried, but Oljin and his queen fled Irra. They lost everything
but their lives—and maybe they even lost those. They simply disappeared and were never heard from
again. All my life, I was told Oljin was kidnapped and killed by the Frathiks, but now I know that
isn’t true. The Frathiks helped him escape. It was my father and the priests who drove them away.
Who wanted them dead.”
He doesn’t say it, but I can tell he fears the same thing could happen to us. My lungs feel flat and
sticky, like an eviscerated balloon. I don’t know why. It’s not like I really thought I was going to stay
and be the queen of an alien planet, not really.
But apparently, some part of me hoped. Some part of me dreamed I could stay with him forever,
eat green biscuits, fuck in a fancy hot tub, and learn every shade of his skin.
Skin that’s as dark as a sin right now. As dark as empty space.
“What does this color mean?” I run my hand along his arm. He looks down and shudders at the
deep purple-blue-black.
“Fear.” He swallows, hard, and a second or two later, the ominous color fades like a healing
bruise to bland, sandy beige. “I would prefer to lie to you, but I cannot.”
I lean my head against the broad comfort of his shoulder, still stroking his arm. “I can’t lie to you,
either. I can’t get the words out of my mouth, even when I want to.”
In an instant, he crushes me against him, peppering every part of me he can reach with a storm of
desperate kisses. Then, he rasps out, “Alioth shines her light on us. She leaves no room for the
shadow of lies.”
I peel away from him. Why does he always bring this back to his religious crap? I just...like him.
Because of who he is, not because of magical starlight bullshit. I like him because he’s intelligent and
funny and thoughtful and sexy and...very sexy, according to the fresh ache between my legs that is
encouraging me to climb into his lap right here in the bath.
I ignore it and scoot farther away from him, far enough that my brain can be heard over my less
logical parts. “I have to say, if you’re trying to convince me to stay, you need to work on your
argument.”
“No lies between us,” he repeats, his eyes on me, still hungry. “There is some risk to you, staying
here.”
“Then why should I?”
“Because if you leave, I—” He breaks off, his eyes suddenly haunted, though his skin remains
unchanged.
“What?” I prod. Then, teasing, “You’ll miss me? You’ll cry? You’ll have to hire six concubines
to fill your giant bed?”
He shakes his head. “No, never. But I realize now that I cannot influence you in this regard. It
must be your decision alone whether to take your rightful place as queen. In six days’ time, I will
stand before Alioth to join with you. You will be by my side, or you will not. I cannot command you.
You must choose it for yourself.”
He gives me a sad smile, and I can’t stand to see it. He knows somewhere deep down that I can’t
stay. Or won’t stay. I push off from the side of the bathing pool and cross to him, doing my best to kiss
the sadness off his face. He groans, but he doesn’t resist, giving in to me, giving me anything and
everything I ask.
Six days. And six hours until morning, give or take. That’s all we are guaranteed, and I intend to
make good use of it.
Maybe it will be enough.
Chapter 24
 Lothan
hen the star rises in the morning and warms us with her glinting smile, I hear voices and
W giggles outside the door.
I groan and bury my head in the bed cushions. “Your terrakin friends chatter like traxillas.”
“Ada? Are you alive in there? Or did you drown in dick?” Delphie’s voice floats in from the
hallway, and another round of giggles accompanies it.
I grumble into the bedclothes. We only closed our eyes when Alioth’s light was already
threatening the horizon, when one set of aches was replaced with another. We haven’t been asleep
long enough to soothe the strain on our bodies, as tempting as I find the press of Ada’s soft curves
against my side now that I’ve been forced awake. “Leave us be.”
“Cover yourselves up! We only need a minute,” Delphie orders.
“We did take over their room last night.” Ada’s satisfied, guilty tone makes her sound like a
greenling who ate the whole bowl of sweetgrass jelly. She admits everything and regrets nothing. I
smile into the cushion just as she pulls it off my head and plants a kiss on my cheek before rising to
retrieve her sveli. “Put something on, you shameless alien.”
I stretch my legs one at a time before drawing on my trousers, wincing at the tightness in my
muscles. “I feel as though I spent the night training for the pits.”
“Perhaps you need more stamina.” She cackles at my expression and goes to answer the door,
clutching her sveli closed with one hand.
In the hall, Hannah and Delphie are vibrating with so much excitement that I’d swear their terrakin
skins are tinged yellow.
“It’s back! The Frathik ship is back! Dorel just got word,” Hannah announces, her hand fluttering
to her throat. Ada sucks in her breath and looks over her shoulder at me.
“No,” I grunt, before she can even ask the question. “I won’t have you within their reach. I’ll send
someone.”
The posture of all three females immediately shifts. They cross their arms, cock their hips, and
scowl at me like a pack of priests.
“Fine, I’ll go myself,” I amend. Their eyes narrow into dagger blades, and I bend my neck in
defeat.
If I have learned anything about terrakin females over the past week, it’s that they never do what I
want them to do. Despite my continued protests about their safety, they all insist on accompanying me
to the spaceport, so we dress and ready ourselves and collect Dorel from the archives, where he and
Joorn are discussing some tattered scroll.
On our way out, Biinji sees us leaving and blocks the door with his small body. “You can’t leave
without me. I’m coming, too.”
I consider allowing him to join us, but immediately dismiss the idea. I don’t anticipate a fight
from the Frathiks now that they’re on Irran soil, but what if the terrakins have been hurt or traumatized
during their captivity? It might do Biinji harm to see them. He has witnessed enough blood in his short
life. “This is no undertaking for greenlings.”
“Is it dangerous? You might need my blades.” His skin fades to dark purple, and I realize he must
fear that, like his mother and father, Ada and I might not survive.
I soften my tone. “No. It’s a simple errand. We’ll return.”
“You’re lying,” he says dully. “If it’s simple, why can’t I come, too?”
Ada crouches down and pulls him close. “We’re just going to meet my friends, and then we’ll be
right back, I promise. It’ll be so quick that you won’t even notice we’re gone. Go see if Mooni has
any extra biscuits left, and later, we’ll go on adventure together. Maybe explore some of the palace
caves. Won’t that be fun?”
“You swear to Alioth?” Biinji asks.
She nods, and he seems to accept her word, although his face is tight and skin dread-gray as he
wraps his arms around her neck for a brief embrace before scampering off to find food. I’m relieved
to see him go—it will be difficult enough ensuring the safety of the terrakins even without a greenling
in tow. Although I do not voice this to Ada, she must share my reservations, or she would not insist he
stay back.
Dorel leading their way, the three females link arms and bunch together into a tight knot of noise,
oblivious to their surroundings even as they draw every Irran eye as we take the winding path down
the cliff.
It makes my teeth ache with worry.
I walk two steps behind, hands ready to draw my knives at every movement in the shadows, every
ripple of skin, and I know Dorel does the same as he guides us through the city. Some might say it’s
beneath the Jara to act as a simple rear guard, but Ada is worth more to me than any treasure. She is
worth more to me than my crown, if it comes to that.
“I’m not going to cry,” Hannah declares as we draw closer to the bottom of the cliff and the
spaceport comes into better view below us. She’s already crying, the dust from the hot winds sticking
to the damp lines on her cheeks.
Delphie’s laugh rings out, echoing off the cliff and rattling my bones. Ada shoots me a smile over
her shoulder. She mouths some words, but of course, my language implant cannot translate them
without sound, so I shake my head to let her know I don’t understand. She peels off from the other two
females, waving them on as she walks beside me, her pale blue eyes bright and sparkling under her
headscarf.
My fingers twitch, not for my knives but to unwind the fabric and let her grass-gold hair escape, to
flutter free on the wind.
“Thank you,” she says, nodding to the pair in front of us. Hannah and Delphie squeeze even closer
together to fit through the street as it narrows further. “For letting them come, too. For finding the
Frathiks’ ship at all. For getting Lena and the other women back. For helping us get home, for all of it.
There’s no way to repay you, but if I could—”
She could. And she knows how. She could admit the goddess has marked her for me.
She steps in front of me so we can walk single file through a particularly tight section that has no
intersecting streets, one that lets me relax my vigilance momentarily. Every footfall down the cobbled
path echoes hollowly in my chest.
After the night we shared, she must feel it. So why won’t she admit it? It’s not such a difficult
thing. Was she not pleased by me?
When the street widens enough to walk in pairs again, she drops back beside me, darting a
shrewd look at me before she tries to fill the silence. “Why are the street here so narrow?” Her tone
is light, and I can tell she’s trying to soothe whatever doubt she saw on my face.
“They are as wide as they need to be.” A flicker too close in my peripheral vision, and my knife
is out. I back Ada into a wall, shielding her with my body until I hear the bleat of a braxa and realize
the movement was just a pack animal turning down a side street to deliver its load.
“You’re jumpy,” Ada observes, brushing dust from her sveli where it rubbed against the stones.
“It’s not like there are many places to hide around here.”
 “You may notice that Irrans do not need a place to hide. We are quite capable of avoiding
detection, should we choose. That is the value of our skin, despite its many other drawbacks.” The
coldness of my tone surprises even me. I see her expression still, something in her face yearning for
my approval, and I’m not proud to say that it pleases me.
Perhaps I’ve been too generous with my affection. Perhaps I should have let her hunger for me
grow more powerful before I let her see my own. Perhaps, as my father always warned, my desire is
my weakness.
Dorel and the two terrakins are quite far ahead now. They disappear around a switchback, and I
scoop her up, ignoring her indignant squall, and sprint to catch up. It feels right, having her in my
arms, her scent curling into my lungs, and I shake off my petty thoughts. What kind of Jara would I be
if I toyed with my fated queen’s affections? There can be no shadows between us, no games to play or
codes to decipher. Only truth and light.
We draw close enough to the others that I can set her down, and she lets her touch linger on my
chest even when her feet are on the ground, her lips quirking up. “I don’t think your skin has
drawbacks. I like knowing what’s going on in there.” She drops a swift kiss to the center of my chest,
the heat of her breath like a flame, searing me like kvik on a spit.
“What do you think this color means?” I ask her, my voice low, almost a growl as I lean to flash
my hand at her, letting the tips of my fingers tinge red. A lewd jeer from a nearby shop doorway
answers my question, and her cheeks flush nearly the same color as she bites her lip, unable to tear
her gaze away from my fingertips.
“I remember that color from last night,” she murmurs. “Only it was another part of you.”
I tug aside the neckline of her sveli to compare the colors of our two skins, exposing her
collarbone and the sweet curve of her shoulder where the marks of my teeth are still visible, barely
beginning to heal. Seeing the evidence of my hunger for her unhinges something feral and senseless
inside me. Like a wild creature, I want to bite her, claim her, keep her forever. I let the passion bleed
through my fingers unhindered until her breath stutters and she pulls away.
“We should catch up.” She nods at the empty street ahead of us. Frix. She’s so intoxicating, so
distracting that I’ve lost track of Dorel and the terrakins again. Some rear guard.
“I usually travel alone,” I explain as we hurry to rejoin them. They’re not hard to find; their noisy
conversation gives their position away even before we can see them. “It’s not often we Irrans gather.
It’s rare that we even share a meal.”
“Even families?” She seems shocked by this.
I shrug. “We eat when we are hungry, and it’s rare to be hungry at exactly the same moment as
another. Mated pairs with greenlings sometimes eat together for convenience. But it is considered a
private act.”
Ada tilts her head thoughtfully. “I wondered where your dining room was. I guess that explains
why the rooms in your palace are so small.”
I frown. She thinks my palace is small? “It is exactly as large as it needs to be.”
“Where do you gather, though? Like in groops?”
My language implant clicks impatiently while it tries to find a similar word in Irran. Finally it
settles on cranac. I frown at her. “We do not form cranacs if we can help it. We are a peaceful
people.”
I can see her waiting for her language implant to translate, too, and then she laughs, shaking her
head. “A dangerous number?”
“Yes. The kind that assembles for war. A cranac,” I repeat.
 “No, I don’t mean like an army. What about for other reasons? What about for...I don’t know,
skuul? A place where children go to learn,” she explains, when my translator fails me yet again.
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Greenlings learn from their parents. Or they apprentice with a
warrior.”
“Well, what about the mines, like where Biinji’s father worked?” Genuine curiosity blooms on
her face. She is truly perplexed by this, I realize. Ada’s spirit is so free I hadn’t realized how much
her terrakin culture differs from ours.
“Miners gather ore where they can find it. If they clustered in a cranac, there would be less for
each of them, no? Better to spread out and each find their own.”
She stops, blocking my path. “Factories, then? Isn’t it more efficient to make things that way?”
“We Irrans work for ourselves. We make what we need, sell the excess. Why would we tie our
fate to another’s? We prefer freedom to efficiency, I think.”
She nods, biting her lip as she mulls this over. I slide my hand to the small of her back,
encouraging her down the street so we can catch up with the others. We trot in silence, and then she
rubs her finger and thumb together in a sharp click, startling me.
She grins at my surprise. “I just remembered the fighting pits. You gather in a groop to watch the
fights, right?”
Her happiness pleases me so much that I hate to correct her impression. “That is the original
meaning of the word, yes. You saw how quickly it turned deadly that day. Only those seeking danger
form a cranac. It’s a thrill for some, I suppose. But it is like joining a braxa herd. An easy target for
predators, and the herd itself is full of sharp hooves. Show one weakness, and you are sacrificed.”
“Like a mob mentality,” she muses. “I guess I understand that. But smaller groups can be a good
thing. Sharing resources, sharing ideas...” She trails off, her eyes on the distant horizon. “It’s a good
feeling.”
Is this why she’s eager to return to her home planet, this sharing feeling? Who was she sharing
with? An unexpected worm of jealousy gnaws at my core. I know almost nothing about her life before
she came to me.
She’s been telling me this all along, I realize. It is part of her argument against our bond. This is
something I must remedy. We reach the base of the cliff where Dorel and the terrakins wait for us, and
I clasp her hand to tug her toward me. “Tell me more about your planet. Tell me about your people.
Your daily life.”
“Taking care of Lena is my daily life, remember?” Her eyes are on the spaceport that spreads out
in front of us, the huge, flat section of grassland that has been cleared to the sandy soil. The swarm of
activity around the many ships docked there, refueling, resupplying, and delivering goods from all
over our star system and beyond. “Look, there she is.”
She points, and I follow her finger to the Frathiks’ ship. Low, dark, globular metal lurks near the
edge of the spaceport. The ship looks like what it is—old technology that has been modified and
repaired countless times over decades of hard use. It’s shocking it’s even still flying, but I guess the
Frathiks have no choice now that they have no planet.
The area around the ship is devoid of the activity that hums over the rest of the port, but I spot
dozens of Irran guards surrounding it, guarding it, though they blend into the landscape, and I doubt
Ada notices their presence.
“Jara, may I suggest you remain here with the terrakins to ensure their safety while I board the
ship?” Dorel is cautiously diplomatic, as always. I know his concern is more for my safety than
theirs.
 I nod, and Ada’s mouth drops open, her expression horrified. “You’re sending in one guy to
rescue them?”
“He is very capable with his blades,” I assure her, sharing a look of amusement with Dorel. She
has no idea of the damage one Irran assassin can do, especially one as seasoned as he is.
“They have like a hundred guys in there, and they all have those—” She breaks off, holding her
hands far apart as she tries to describe whatever she means.
“Elephant dicks?” Delphie suggests.
“Ha ha.” Ada’s tone indicates she feels anything but amusement. “Our friends are still in there,
remember? My sister is still in there with those—monsters. How can you even joke right now?”
Though her skin doesn’t shift, Delphie’s face crumples with contrition. These humans are not so
difficult to read. “I know, sorry. The Frathiks have long electric weapons, zappers, whatever,” she
explains to me and Dorel. “That’s what she means. I don’t think knives will work against those.”
Dorel nods. “It is the only weapon the Frathiks are permitted to wield, since the war. But they are
not allowed to use them on any of the planets or moons in our star system.”
“Well, they do.” Hannah shudders, closing her eyes against some memory.
“They will be punished.” My dark words are a promise, and Ada reaches out to squeeze my hand.
“For that, and for your captivity.”
“They are subject to our laws,” Dorel agrees, in his dry way. “They must submit to any inspection
of their ship we wish to perform, or they risk violating the peace treaty. I act in my official capacity
as advisor to the king, so they cannot refuse my request to see their cargo.”
“They’re not cargo,” Ada says stubbornly.
“Passengers,” Dorel amends.
Ada crosses her arms over her sveli. “I’m going with you. I know the ship. I know where they’re
keeping them.”
Dorel gives a sharp inhale of displeasure but bends his head as he should to his queen. “As you
wish, Alara.”
Fear quickens my blood. I won’t risk her. “No.”
“I thought you said he is capable of defending against a hundred Frathiks.” Ada arches an
eyebrow.
A challenge. No one challenges me. A king’s word is law. And this law is for her—to protect her.
To keep her safe, out of reach of the Frathiks’ slaving hands. Out of their R’Hiza-damned cranac.
“He is very capable of defending himself while he conducts the negotiation. But I will not task
him with protecting a helpless, weak creature who will act on emotion rather than logic and
jeopardize our peace.” The words are out before I can stop them. They land as blades, cutting her
down. I see her fold in on herself, close her heart to me, turn away.
“That’s cold, Lothan.” Delphie puts her arm around Ada just as the hot wind whips a braxa-load
of grit out of the grasslands into our faces. Ada’s eyes slit against the onslaught, and Hannah coughs
into her elbow, her body wracked with spasms as she tries to clear her airway. I close my nares
against the worst of it, breathing instead through the filtering gills behind my ears.
“The ends of your headscarves can be wrapped over your mouths like so.” Dorel demonstrates
using Hannah’s scarf, quieting her cough, and the other two terrakins follow suit.
“I think only of your safety,” I say thickly through the dust cloud, longing for Ada’s forgiveness.
A king never apologizes. A king never begs. Desire is weakness.
Why won’t she meet my eyes? She turns to Dorel instead, lowering her scarf to speak. “Let’s go
get my sister.”
 Even he cannot keep the dismay from staining his skin as he looks between us. Jara and Alara at
odds, his loyalty divided.
My breath hisses out. “She has not accepted the crown. Until that day, your oath is to me.”
That isn’t the whole truth. His oath is to Alioth first, Irra second, Jara third. The goddess herself
chose Ada, and Dorel has every right to honor Alioth’s intent over the coincidence of my birth.
But my advisor has calculated and finds my argument persuasive, or at least persuasive enough.
He gives a tight nod and strides away from us toward where the ship is docked. Ada starts after him,
but I strike, grabbing her wrist, holding her back, wrapping my arms around her as she fights me.
I pull her tight to my body, turn away from the ship so it is out of her view. Still, she struggles.
Her scarf slips down from her face, allowing her hot tears fall on the backs of my hands as animal
noises erupt from her throat.
In the vague background, between the howl of the wind and the gasps of the other terrakins, I hear
her words, finally, low and fierce.
“As long as I live, I will hate you for this.”
Chapter 25
 Ada
s though my words are magic, he lets me go.
A We stare at each other, as the wind buffets my cheeks, stinging them with sand until I pull
my scarf up over my face again. Lothan seems immune to the effects of the dusty wind, and I notice his
nose is closed, somehow. A shudder ripples through me. I forgot he’s an alien. That we are on an
alien planet. For a little while, it felt normal. Like home.
But it isn’t. Lena is my home. And Lothan still doesn’t seem to understand that.
He grabs my hand and presses a kiss to my palm. “I spoke my fear, not the truth. Let the wind
blow away my words like dust.”
The insult rings in my ears. I can’t forget what he said, how he sees me—weak, helpless,
emotional. He’s right, of course. I am all those things, especially compared to him. That just makes it
hurt more.
“I need my sister. I can’t live without her. It’s just how things are. She’s the center of my life, just
like your star goddess is the center of yours. If you can’t understand that, then we can’t be together.”
Lothan drops to his knees and kisses the hem of my sveli. Raising his eyes to meet my gaze, he
chokes out, “Forgive me, Alara, but you are the center of mine. Crown or not, queen or not, Irra or
Elsewhere, you will always rule me.”
I don’t know what to say.
He still doesn’t get it.
Hannah nudges me. “It’s a pretty good apology, as they go.” Her voice is muffled by her scarf, but
the wistfulness it contains is not. She must be thinking of her husband, missing even his worst
moments. Hoping he’ll forgive her for something that isn’t even her fault.
But Lothan’s not my husband. He’s not my boyfriend. He’s...I don’t know what he is. A religious
zealot who wants to control my life? The hottest fuck in the universe? My fate mate? One of those
things. Maybe all of them.
Delphie rolls her eyes, drops her scarf for a moment. “Pretty words from a pretty man, but we all
know it isn’t words that heal wounds.”
Lothan grimaces—with annoyance?—and that just makes my anger flare. “What? Our weak
terrakin emotions bothering you?”
“No.” He stares at the stones between my feet, the sand between the stones, his head bent, the tips
of his ears purple-black like a bruise. I know that color. Fear. When he speaks again, his voice rasps
with pain. “They humble me. You humble me, with your bravery. It is no small thing, speaking what
you truly need. Baring that before others is—courageous.”
Whoa. I was not expecting that.
“It is not our way, here. We do not share the burden of our desire and shame and fear, even with
those closest to us. But we have much to learn from you—goddess knows, even a king has much to
learn.” He rises from his knees, mouth as flat as the grassy plain around us, and gives a decisive nod.
The king wears his crown again, it seems. “I will take you to the Frathiks. And I will defend you with
my life, if necessary. Dorel will be unhappy”—his mouth twists with something near amusement at
the thought—“and that alone may be worth it.”
“What are we waiting for?” Delphie asks, grinning at me. With Lothan leading me by the hand, we
hurry across the open spaceport. Dorel has already disappeared inside the massive bay door that
lowered for him and now waits, like a maw, to swallow us, too.
As we near the Frathiks’ ship, cold expands in my belly, crystallizing into something dark. I’m not
sure I can set foot in there again, not after our weeks in captivity, even to meet Lena. In the shadow of
the ship, I am weak, conscious of my guts. My rebellious stomach, my quavering bladder, my
straining lungs. My stuttering heart. I’ll be at the Frathiks’ mercy again.
Lothan’s hands curl gingerly around my upper arms like my skin might burn him. “We can wait
here, with the guards,” he murmurs. Suddenly, I’m conscious of the half-dozen naked Irran warriors
closing in around us, their skin the same rocky hue as the spaceport’s paved surface. I swallow and
nod, ashamed of my own cowardice but grateful Lothan sensed it and gave me an out.
Delphie’s relieved breath blows out in a noisy whoosh when she notices the guards, too. “Thank
fuck, I thought we were on our own.”
“Can we just get this over with, please?” Hannah whines, clutching Delphie’s arm.
“We wait here,” Lothan says firmly, encircling me with his arms. His embrace may be the only
thing holding me together.
I focus on Lena.
She’s in the cell with the other women. Maybe the Frathiks are unlocking the door now, leading
them in chains to where Dorel is negotiating with their leader. It takes five minutes to reach the main
corridor from the cage where they kept us. Another five or so to the bay doors, if I remember right.
They should have emerged by now if everything went smoothly. What’s taking so long?
I’m hyperventilating. I lean over and brace my hands on my knees, slowing my breath so I don’t
suck in more dust than I have to while Lothan strokes my upper back. Freaking out isn’t going to get
her here faster.
An actual, real-life king is negotiating for her release. That’s more than Lena ever had on Earth,
where only I fought for her. Little old Potato Princess, high school dropout me. Now she has a whole
planet trying to save her. And a star goddess, too, if I’m to believe Lothan.
That makes me smile, despite the sticky residue of fear still coating my insides. I grab Lothan’s
hand and squeeze it as hard as I can.
“There.” His eyes are on the huge door, still lowered. A string of figures emerges, and as they
reach the bottom of the ramp and wave to us, I recognize them. Jaya is in front. Brooke and Samantha
with their arms linked, Cassidy and Zoe close behind. Andi jogs down to catch up, holding her boobs
so they don’t bounce, and I hold my breath. Lena must be last, and I hope that doesn’t mean she’s been
injured.
Dorel exits the ship. Alone.
And the bay doors begin to close.
They’ve kept her.
No.
Before I can think, I am running. Feet pounding, arms pumping, the wind stinging my eyes as I
whip past the stunned group of women and Dorel. He snakes an arm out to stop me, but I duck to
avoid it, feeling my headscarf loosen and fall away just as I reach the enormous door to the Frathiks’
ship.
I have to reach up to grasp the slow-moving edge, and adrenaline surges through me, giving me
the strength to pull myself up and roll to avoid being crushed as the door latches with a smooth,
ominous click.
I made it.
I’m in the ship. I’m going to find Lena.
But now I can’t move. My senses flood with the familiar thin, grayish light of the spaceship
interior. The background whir of the life-support systems. The stale-freezer scent of the air. The cold
metal grate under my hands as I lay on my belly.
All of it takes me back to the weeks I spent here, terrified and abused. I didn’t know what horrors
were ahead of me, so I only existed in fear, and now its cold poison seeps through my veins again,
paralyzing me. I’m afraid to raise my head. Afraid to see the Frathiks again.
A low, grating laugh of surprise. “The terrakin returns to us! It seems she enjoyed her time on our
ship more than we intended.”
“Perhaps we should keep her. Like a pet.”
A grunt. “No. Too small, too weak. She wouldn’t last. Better to sell her in the markets of Mizar.”
I can finally understand them with my new translator. And now I wish I didn’t. My eyes sting as I
raise my head. I scramble to my feet when I see two Frathiks staring at me, snickering as they finger
their cattle prod things. Verduks, Dorel called them.
“Where is she?” I can’t keep the tremble out of my voice. It pitches up. “Where’s my sister?
Where’s Lena?”
The larger Frathik, who seems to be the one in charge, makes a face. “Always squeaking, these
terrakins. They never shut up. Another reason to sell her on.”
“I don’t mind the squeaks,” the other one observes, leering at me and sliding a thick purple tongue
along his lips as he adjusts his elephant dick under his loincloth. Both chuckle, their lumpy bodies
shaking with amusement.
While they’re distracted, I dart past them, down the passageway I know leads toward the holding
cell where they kept us before. Where they’re still keeping Lena now. I can feel their heavy footfalls
vibrating the floor grates, the harsh grunts, but I stay ahead of them as I cross the central hallway.
Lumpish faces gape at me as I sprint by, their owners too stunned to reach out and stop me. My
pursuers roar to warn them, and someone triggers an alarm. Red lights blare from the ceilings, and a
siren crescendos as I reach the cell. I grasp the flat bars and desperately scan inside for any sign of
Lena’s white-blonde head or the blue tank top she was wearing when she was abducted.
It’s empty, save for what looks like an aqua-colored Christmas tree made of feathers. The fronds
fan slightly as I stare, and a musical thread like a piccolo comes from it. My language implant
translates the sound into a lilting, high voice.
“I sense your dismay, but I assure you, I am also female, and I will not harm you as we share
accommodations. Are you also traveling to the Mizar system?”
She’s not here. I can hardly breathe. I fall to my knees, not even feeling them hit the metal grate,
and press my head against the bars just as the Frathiks catch up to me, their breath rasping.
“This one is eager to be chained again.” The big one pinches my shoulder and drags me to my
feet, snorting when I yelp at the sharp pain. He shoves me toward the other one. “Here you go. Your
pet is making the noises you like.”
He guffaws as he unlocks the cell door. Who knew these guys were such jokers? The Frathik who
holds my wrists rubs against me, lets me feel his floppy elephant dick in the crack of my ass, maybe
hoping I’ll squeak again. I grit my teeth together, swallowing my feelings, and he shrugs, pushing me
into the cell.
The door slides shut. The sirens fade, and the red lights cease.
“Where is she?” I demand, gripping the bars. “Where’s my sister? Where are you keeping her?”
The two guards just stare at me. Though I can understand them because of my new implant, they
can’t understand me. “You’ll get rations later, little squeaker,” one says. He tests the door to make
sure it’s locked, and they leave.
That’s it. I’m trapped again. And I still don’t have Lena. I can’t keep the guttural cry of despair
from ripping out of my chest as soon as the two Frathiks are gone.
When I turn to face her, the aqua tree swishes her delicate fronds and makes a murmur of
sympathy. “I am”—she whistles a few notes, untranslatable—“and your name?”
“Ada,” I answer automatically. She repeats my name as a two-note tune, and the sound echoes,
hollow, in my ears as anxiety shadows my vision. What lies beyond this point? If the Frathiks sell me
again, this blue tree lady might be the last being to know my real name.
She brushes her feathers on the back of my neck. Comforting me, perhaps. “Don’t worry. Whoever
you are running from, they cannot follow you now.”
“I wasn’t running from—”
I grip the bars in front of me. I was. I was running.
Toward Lena, sure. But I’m not stupid—I knew I couldn’t fight a hundred Frathiks and win my
sister back. I was running away from something, too.
Away from Biinji and the painful reminders of my childhood he brings with him. Away from my
own selfish happiness. Away from Lothan’s seductive fairytales.
It was too good when I was with him, crazy-intense enough that I could forget other people’s pain
because I was too busy with my own satisfaction. I got lost in it, to the point that I almost believed his
wild story that the universe brought us together. So maybe I ran back to the Frathiks to punish myself
for that, too.
“I’m sorry,” I croak, not sure whether I’m apologizing to him, to Lena, to the aqua tree, or to
myself.
The blue feathers brush over me, swirling in a soft, ticklish pattern. “I regret that my translator
does not have your language installed. If you like, I can teach you some vocabulary that will be
helpful to your future debtholder. It could secure you a better position at a pleasure house if you know
basic Traiyaran.”
I swallow. Of course she can’t understand me. I’m on my own now. The Irrans won’t rescue me
from the Frathiks. Why would they? I went with them willingly.
So I have two choices. I can curl up and give up. Or I can scrape out a new life, like I did after
Mom died. The Frathiks might sell me to someone, but if I work hard, maybe I can earn my freedom. I
can keep looking for Lena.
Who knows, maybe the universe is smaller than I realize. Maybe I can find her someday. There
have to be sympathetic people where we’re headed, right? People who could become my allies. My
eyes light on the friendly blue tree, and I moisten my lips. I try to mimic the four-note whistle of her
name that sounds a little like the opening notes to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.
She rustles with surprise. She whistles back, correcting my pronunciation, and I try again until she
spins in place, her branches flaring out when I get it right. “Well done. Now try ‘Mizar,’ our
destination.”
Right. We’re leaving this planet. This whole star system. I need to get used to the idea that I’ll
probably never see another familiar face.
She repeats the notes, and I do my best to fumble them through my tightening throat. The tree
swishes happily when I succeed, releasing a cloud of silvery dust. Her aqua feathers pale slightly as
she attempts to sweep it up.
“I got so excited, I spored. So embarrassing,” she titters in her sing-song way.
I can’t help smiling, even as my throat aches and my inside hollows. I’ll never see Lothan’s face
again. Funny how, when you think you’ve lost everything, you can still lose more.
Chapter 26
 Lothan
all them back,” I roar, striding impatiently back and forth as I watch the Frathiks’ ship shrink
“C
and then disappear into the atmosphere. Frix, it is too late. “Get me a bird! Get me on that ship. Who
approved them to take off? Give me names, Dorel. I will cut their throats myself.”
“Jara, you frighten them.” Dorel’s voice is low, and the quick flick of his eyes takes in the new
group of terrakin females who stare at me with wide eyes as they clutch one another, shaking.
They still wear the Frathiks’ second-hand battle implants and can’t understand a word. They can
only see my unhinged behavior, and I can tell that if we weren’t in the middle of the flat, barren
spaceport, surrounded by armed warriors, they would have already tried to run.
“Tell them it’s safe,” I order Delphie, rubbing my hand over my face. “Explain who I am. Tell
them they’ll be provided for while they are here and returned to your planet as soon as I can arrange
it.” She crouches down and begins to explain, and the momentary reprieve gives me the time I need to
think.
When Ada left my side in a blur of pink and blue, my first impulse was to stop her, but instead, I
doubted my instinct, thinking she was just eager to greet her sister. I let her go. It wasn’t until she
passed the terrakins, passed Dorel, and clambered up onto the closing bay door that I realized what
she’d done. She went back to the Frathiks.
If only I’d acted on my possessive impulse. She might have hated me, but she would be safe.
A king never hesitates.
My hesitation was my undoing and my queen’s, too. I deserve the rebuke, but R’Hiza take my
father and his bitter words.
My claws extend and retract, longing to tear Frathik flesh, even though they are not to blame. Not
entirely. They released the terrakins as we asked. Unlike my father, I won’t blame others for my own
failures and start wars to soothe my guilt. To soothe the pain of my loss.
She chose, as I asked her to. And she did not choose me. Instead, she ran back to them. But why?
Why, in the moment of victory, did Ada run?
I must have asked the question aloud because Hannah answers me, her voice tentative as she
creeps up beside me. “I think—I think she went to find her sister. Lena didn’t come out with the
others.”
She nods to the terrakins, who have calmed somewhat under Delphie’s influence. I scan them and
realize Hannah is telling the truth. Pleasing though they are to behold, none of them share features with
my Alara. They huddle together under my stare, avoiding my gaze.
“Why didn’t Lena come out with you?” I demand. While Delphie translates, I circle the cranac of
terrakins so I can examine each of their faces for the truth. One of them must know. One of them must
have seen or heard something. “Where is she?”
“We haven’t seen her in days,” a lean, olive-skinned woman says to Delphie. I can tell from the
squint of her golden-brown eyes that she doesn’t think much of me and my pacing. “Tell him we don’t
know.”
“He understands English fine, Jaya,” Delphie mutters, darting a look at me. “Just talk to him.”
The woman, Jaya, crosses her arms and juts her chin out defiantly. “We haven’t seen Lena in a
couple days. There was some big fuss with the guards, and then one of them took Lena away. She
never came back.”
I stop in front of her, my mind racing. “Why did they separate her from you? Was she harmed?
Did she choose to go with them? Did you see them put her on another ship?”
 Delphie can’t keep up with my pelting questions, and Jaya throws up her hands. “Would someone
please tell this guy to stop badgering me? My head is killing me.”
“Comm a healer!” I nearly shout at Dorel, every muscle in my body tensing. “This terrakin is
dying!”
Delphie stands abruptly and puts a hand on my arm. “It’s a figure of speech,” she says, her lips
curving slightly. She pets my forearm like she’s calming a kvikling’s squeals. “She’ll be okay. She
just means she has a headache.”
“Jesus, he’s intense.” Jaya rubs her forehead, and her hands are trembling. She squeezes them into
fists when she sees me looking, and I realize how I must appear to her—a male looming over them,
blocking out the sky, my shadow cast large enough to shade them all.
I take a step back to let Alioth smile on them and hopefully chase away their doubts. I wish her
light would remove mine. I still don’t understand why Ada would gamble with her own life. Does she
care so little for herself? My breath hisses out like it’s been forced by an unexpected blow.
“How do we know we can trust him?” Jaya asks, staring me in the face even as she directs her
question to Delphie.
“He’s been nice to us so far,” Hannah says.
“Nice.” Jaya spits the word in the sand. The other terrakins, who seem to look to her as their
leader, shrink back from us, their posture as wary as cornered prey. “So what?”
Delphie shrugs. “More than you can say for any other aliens we’ve met. It’s not like we’re trading
down.”
“Come on,” Hannah pleads, her eyes welling with tears. “They’re our best chance to get back to
Earth. Don’t throw it away because they don’t speak English.”
Dorel clears his throat politely. “We would be pleased to give you new language implants if
you’d accompany us to the palace. You will be our welcome guests until your transportation can be
arranged.” When the terrakins hear his calm tone, they settle somewhat and listen to Delphie’s
translation.
“We want fresh food. Baths. And clothes like theirs.” Jaya nods to Hannah’s sveli even as she
tugs at her own drab, worn garments.
“Of course,” Dorel replies smoothly.
“And no locks on the doors,” another woman interjects, licking her lips nervously as she twines
her fingers together.
Guilt stings me as I remember how I locked Ada in my bedroom when she first arrived, when I
was afraid she would run again. I was right—she ran at the first opportunity, straight back into their
arms. Why not accept her place as Alara, accept my help? She still doesn’t believe it’s true.
Jaya notices my flinch, and her eyes narrow to thin slits. “Maybe we should take our chances on
our own.”
R’Hiza knows, Ada did. Anger rises in my blood, and it takes all my attention to push it down so
it doesn’t bloom on my skin. She ran to save her sister, I remind myself. Not to escape me. But I
cannot conceive how any sibling deserves such sacrifice. My brothers would all happily feed me to
the saidals if they had the chance. And it shows just how little she trusts me.
I feel my skin darken, burning to charcoal at the thought. Dorel hisses a soft warning. “Settle your
skin, Jara, or we risk losing them all.”
“Are we free?” Jaya asks suddenly, her teeth bared. “Can we walk away from you this instant?”
The terrakins behind her tense, waiting for my answer.
I exchange a covert look with Dorel, and it’s clear he shares my thoughts. It would be madness for
them to decline our help. But from what I know of Ada—R’Hiza take me, she is gone—terrakins
need to have a choice, even when it endangers them. “Of course.”
“Take your time to make your decision,” Dorel adds, his tone infuriatingly mild. We don’t have
time—every second, Ada is farther away, traveling at the speed of starlight. “Whatever we can do to
earn your trust, we will. Just name your terms—beyond those you’ve specified already, of course.”
I swear to Alioth, diplomacy will kill me if a dagger doesn’t.
Jaya gathers the others around her, and they speak in low tones. I can’t make out what they’re
saying over the drone of the wind and birds taking off and landing from the spaceport. Hannah’s voice
rises above the group, panicked, before she is shushed. Not a good sign, given that she trusts us the
most.
Dorel moves closer to me and flashes his small comm device. “The Frathik captain refuses to
return the ship to Irra, Jara. He says they’ve submitted to inspection and all passengers aboard are
willing.”
I scan the document on his screen. A record of crew, cargo, and passengers. According to the
manifest, the ship transports two passengers to the Mizar system: one Traiyan and one terrakin. Only
one. Lena is definitely not on board.
Frix. Ada is alone. She gambled and lost and now will pay the price for it. A muscle in my jaw
twitches, thinking of her at the Frathiks’ mercy. At the mercy of a buyer in the markets of Mizar. At the
mercy of customers at a pleasure house—or worse.
I have to get her back. I will kill any Frathik who stands between us with my own two blades if I
have to, whisper Alioth’s name in their ear as their lifeblood drains away.
“Call me a bird,” I order, unable to focus on the comm device enough to do it myself.
Dorel stills. “If you board their ship, the Frathiks will consider it a violation of the peace treaty.
You risk war. And until you are crowned emperor—”
He does not need to say the rest. I already know it. The Eye will not back me. The priests would
prefer to see me weakened so their influence can grow, so they will not send their assassins in my
defense.
Nor will my brothers. It’s likely they will all stand back and call me rogue. The ambitious oldest
brother, grasping to conquer. They might even barter a new peace treaty with the Frathiks, isolating
me. Forcing me out, hiding behind the lie of their neutrality.
So be it. I cannot fear what comes next. There is no neutral for me.
Alioth smiled on Ada. I saw the truth of it with my own eyes. The goddess did not illuminate my
fated queen only to cast her into the darkness or into the light of another star. Alioth’s teeth only test
my worthiness of her gift.
I’ll do whatever she requires as proof. Slaughter a hundred enemies, defy the Eye, break a peace
treaty. Disown my brothers. Spend every coin in my treasure house. Give up my crown. Anything.
If only I knew what. I kneel to pray in the dirt.
Goddess who brings us life and takes it. Smile upon your servant. Illuminate my path and leave
the rest in shadow, so I may follow where you guide me.
When I raise my head, the terrakins have finished their parley. Jaya stands with all eight of them at
her back, the six we have rescued and Delphie and Hannah, too. Delphie is the only one who will
meet my eyes, and she gives me the tiniest nod. I sit back on my haunches, hope pushing the dust from
my lungs, braced to hear their verdict.
In it, I am sure, is the goddess’s will.
“There’s one way you can earn our trust.” Jaya plants her hands on her hips, her words only for
me. “Hannah says you love Ada. If that’s true, go and get her back.”
I give her a single nod, the hammer of my heart forging my will into a weapon. “I will do this.
Call a bird, Dorel,” I say before he can protest.
His chin colors yellow with surprise, and he quickly covers it with his hand. He draws me aside,
lowering his voice so the terrakins cannot overhear. “Don’t bring war on us. We can find another
way, once you rule the Five Planets.”
“And how am I to rule anything without my Alara, Dorel?” I can feel the cold glitter of my eyes
like distant stars. “Without her, I am nothing. Everything will pass to the Eye anyway.”
Dorel flicks his ear membranes, reminding me to stay quiet and calm as he pokes at his comm
device’s screen, scrolling quickly through his records to find whatever he is looking for. He holds it
out to me.
A transcript of my father’s last words. I grit my teeth against the urge to smash it to the ground.
Why he thought this gesture would calm me is beyond my comprehension.
I can tell by his tone that his patience is stretched. “Chanísh said that Alioth must show one of his
sons their fated queen to become emperor. He did not say your Alara must join with you or rule
beside you. She only has to exist. I believe your brothers will support this argument. Reluctantly,
perhaps, but if the only alternative is the Eye...they will unite behind you.”
I shake my head. “Lyro will not.”
“He will if you offer him a planet,” Dorel counters.
I forget to keep my nares shuttered and draw in a sharp breath, flooding my mouth and lungs with
dust. The taste of defeat.
The thought of losing my planet hurts almost as much as losing Ada. Almost. I could bear losing
one, I think. It would be a bitter survival, but I would survive it.
But not both.
Dorel clears his throat, drawing my attention back to him. “It would be dangerous for the Eye to
lose the support of the people. The priests won’t stand against all six of you.”
“So Chanísh’s sons will form a cranac?” I can’t help choking on my skeptical laugh.
“A cranac of kings,” Dorel agrees. “Five kings and an emperor. Your father may not have
foreseen it would happen this way.”
He certainly did not. My father feels R’Hiza’s chill in his bierbird at the thought of us united, I am
sure. It would almost be worth losing everything to have the satisfaction.
Almost.
A king never hesitates. The image of my father’s ruined face flashes before me. He spent his life
trying to atone for one mistake. He killed hundreds of thousands. Destroyed a world. Conquered new
planets. Crowned himself emperor. Fathered many sons. Prayed like a priest. And it was all
meaningless.
None of it was enough to fill the space in his heart left by his missing Alara.
“Tell me, what would you do if Mooni were the one being carried off to Mizar in the hold of a
Frathik ship? Would you be content to quietly stand behind my throne and never see her again, or
would you risk your power and position and go after her?” I watch Dorel’s face, watch for the mask
of diplomacy to waver, and I’m not disappointed when a shudder ripples through him.
“I would go,” he admits. “But I am just a man, not a king. Your father raised you to rule.”
“He taught me to be a king,” I agree. “But you taught me to be a man. And if I have to choose
between being a good king or being a good man—”
“It is no choice,” he agrees thickly.
Chapter 27
 Ada
here is no day and night in space, just the dim lights of the cell, so it’s hard to keep track of time
T passing. When guards bring rations, I eat. When I’m tired, I sleep.
When I can muster the enthusiasm, Twinkle teaches me more whistle-songs in her language. I
learn that the Mizar system, where we are headed, is where her home planet, Traiya, is located. She
spent the last few years cleaning pleasure houses on Slio, one of Irra’s moons, but now she’s made
enough money to go back to her family. She hopes to find a mate.
I listen to her melodic chatter, smiling as she describes her ideal male. Tall, blue, and handsome,
it sounds like. But mostly, I lay on my bunk, my eyes squeezed shut, picturing another life.
A life where I find Lena and we figure out how to get back to Earth. She studies hard, graduates
from vet school, and has an awesome career doing what she loves. Maybe she wins awards for all the
animal lives she saves. And I—
I don’t know what I do. I make sure she’s okay. I watch her achieve her dreams. I make ends meet.
That’s always been enough for me.
Why does that daydream feel empty now? Maybe because I know I’ll never get her back. My heart
tells me she’s not on this ship with me. And that means she could be anywhere in the universe. Out of
my reach.
All this was for nothing.
Twinkle brings me some of the bricklike rations when the guards slide them through the bars of
our cell, but I can’t force my jaws to chew. I should keep the food, try again later, but I can tell I
won’t be able to eat the nutrition bar later, either. I drop it down the garbage hole instead, listening to
the spiralling rattle as it makes its way down the chute.
Why was I so willing to throw away everything good in my life just for the slim chance Lena was
on board this ship? Was that tiny hope worth any price?
If I’d stayed on Irra, I’d still have some hope of finding her. But standing in the dust of that
spaceport, my fear overwhelmed me, pushed my thinking into my lizard brain. It felt like a choice
between Lena or nothing, when really it was a choice between something and everything.
I didn’t just sacrifice my happiness, I ruined Lothan’s, too. Without me beside him, he won’t
become emperor. He won’t even be king—he’ll have to become a priest of the Eye, the same group
who ruined his dad’s life. What’s the word he used for group? Cranac. A dangerous number. He’ll
have to live with them, because of me.
I broke my promises to Biinji, too. Now another adult who was supposed to care for him has left
his life. I know exactly what that feels like, and I hate myself for doing it to a child.
My ears ring. At first I think I’m having a panic attack, but then I realize an alarm is going off on
the ship, pulsing louder and louder.
Something’s wrong.
Lights flash in the ceiling again, the sirens blare, and a crackling Frathik growl comes over the
speaker. This time, unlike all the other times I was captive here, I can understand it.
“Enemy combatant aboard. Execute on sight. Repeat, enemy combatant aboard. Execute on sight.
Repeat...” The warning, which I now realize is a recording, drones on, alternating with the rhythmic
alarm, and I cover my ears with my hands, trying to block out the noise as I curl up on my hard bunk,
cursing the language implant.
I wish I couldn’t understand. The warning means nothing to me, anyway. Whoever is attacking the
ship isn’t here for me. Nobody cares that I’m locked in a cell.
 Lothan cares, a tiny, honeyed voice says in my ear. It sounds so real, even though I know it’s just
my imagination. Just my brain torturing itself. Even if Lothan cares about me, he’s not coming.
I left him. I literally ran away from him. I said a hundred times in a hundred different ways that
I’m going back to Earth as soon as I find her. I basically told him my sister was more important to me
than anything. More important than him. Why would he come for me when he knows I’m leaving him
anyway? He wouldn’t.
I’m on my own. Locked in a cell with a sentient Christmas tree on a ship that’s being invaded by
“enemy combatants.” They might be even worse than the Frathiks themselves. Ironically, my best
hope right now is my abductors.
I’m rooting for them. I really am. Go Frathiks! A terrible, hysterical laugh leaps from my chest, an
ugly noise that makes Twinkle vibrate in the corner, her branches expanding and contracting with
fear. Poor thing. I wish I could say something to comfort her, but it would just be gibberish to her
ears.
“Do you think we’re safe in here?” she sings breathlessly, stuttering over the notes so some of her
words repeat. “How did an enemy get onto the ship? This is a transport vessel, not a warship. Maybe
they’ll just steal supplies and then go. What’s happening out there?”
She is talking to herself, not me, not really, but I go to the bars to get a better view. The hallway is
empty, but the sounds of fighting—desperate shouts, the clang of metal-on-metal—near. At the end of
the hall, one of our guards collapses, black blood bubbling from his mouth. The skirmish, just out of
view around the corner, continues, judging by the noise. Frathik curses translate, then a sick thud, then
silence.
Well, I guess that answers the question of what’s going on out there.
“They’re coming,” I say hurriedly, moving back from the bars. I huddle with Twinkle behind the
end of a row of bunks, tense as a pair of rabbits.
The click of a lock disengaging. I hear the sound before I see who is there. I only have a faint
awareness of the cell door opening before I feel his arms wrap around me as his skin settles into a
dusky lavender hue.
Then, I see him, really see him. Lothan. Naked, blood-smeared Lothan.
He came for me.
I gasp and jolt, my reaction seconds behind, and he chuckles low, his mouth pressed to the top of
my head. “I told you, Irrans do not need a place to hide.”
Beside me, Twinkle trills with alarm, and I whistle some of the few words I know in her language
in an attempt to reassure her. “Twinkle, good. Safe.” Her fronds relax, even as she flattens against the
back wall, still suspicious of the bloody warrior who’s in our space, his weapons dripping with
evidence of his kills.
“You speak Traiyaran? My clever little queen.” Lothan traces my jawline, his eyes wide with
wonder, and I feel my bones ache toward him. Is this even real, or am I hallucinating?
“Queen?!” Twinkle trills in a piercing tone, even higher than the sirens that are still going off.
“Why didn’t you say so? Miz, maybe you did say so in that heavy language of yours and I just didn’t
understand it. Oh, I’m so embarrassed. Here I was advising you on how to get hired in a pleasure
house, and you’re royalty. Forgive me.” She bends low, making her trunk crackle with the effort.
“Can you tell her she doesn’t have to do that? Tell her she’s my friend,” I ask Lothan,
embarrassed. He obliges, and she relaxes her branches, her trill swelling with pride until a loud
bellow from the hallway cuts her happiness short. She cowers back in her corner, humming frantically
to herself, reciting some kind of prayer.
 “I think I hear my name,” Lothan says. A dark joke. His mouth quirks up at my disapproving
expression before he brushes his lips over mine and ducks back through the open cell door to get a
better view of the hall. Then he bolts toward the noise, knives out.
Ready to defend me. Ready to die for me.
I squeeze my eyes shut and put my hands over my ears. I can’t stand to hear them kill him. This is
all my fault. Despite my hands, more shouts and grunts penetrate my hearing. Then a crashing sound
that makes my heart stop.
The siren cuts off, too, and the loud voices are gone. A second later, and the recorded warning
over the loudspeaker abruptly stops its repetitive drone in the middle of its sentence.
Then Lothan is back at my side, cleaning and sheathing his knives. “They won’t bother us. We’re
safe for now,” he reports.
Safe. Something I thought I’d never be again. Too bad my safety came at the expense of so many.
Lena and the other women, who now have nobody to advocate for them on Irra. Even that little boy,
whose warrior spirit hides a tender heart that’s sure to be injured if he’s abandoned again.
I’m sick at the thought of him alone, fending for himself like Lena and I had to after Mom died. “If
you’re here, then who’s watching out for Biinji?” I ask, unable to stop my teeth from worrying my
lower lip.
Lothan cups my face and presses his forehead to mine. “He is well cared for. Dorel and Mooni
agreed to treat him as their own if I do not return.”
“I’m sorry,” I choke out.
“For what? For their generosity? I thought it would please you.” He frowns, his skin twisting to an
ugly, dull gray, and my cheeks heat with warring guilt and despair. I don’t deserve his protection. He
shouldn’t have abandoned Biinji for me. He shouldn’t have risked his life.
“For running from you. I’ve put you in a terrible position, Lothan, and I’m so, so sorry. It was
incredibly selfish of me.”
“No.” He tips my chin up, so I’m forced to look at him. “No, it was pure. You only think of others,
never yourself. How I wish you were selfish. Then, I think I could convince you to stay with me.”
I clear my throat of the rush of tears that threaten to choke me. “This rescue is definitely some
points in that column.”
His lips twist into a bitter smile, and his skin pales into a color I know too well. Shame. “This
isn’t a rescue, Alara.”
I don’t understand. “You’re here, though. You came for me.”
“I did.” He closes his eyes and leans away from me, back against the wall. “But to reach you, I
pushed my bird to its limits. Its fuel cell is exhausted. And the Frathiks lost enough crew members to
my blades that they sealed off this part of the ship to avoid further blooding. We are trapped. They
will execute us when we land at the next spaceport, I expect—if they don’t starve us first. We will
die together, so there is that comfort.”
Twinkle trumpets in fear, and Lothan is momentarily distracted as he soothes her in Irran. I have
to say, I agree with her. I don’t find it comforting at all to know that we’re doomed.
There has to be another way out of this place. I leave the cell and jog down the hallway in the
opposite direction of the dead Frathiks. My feet clang on the floor grates, but my heart hammers even
louder in my ears. I try every door off the hall, but none open for me. I hit a dead end, the passageway
sealed off with a barrier that doesn’t even have a doorway in it, and double back to the cell.
“No luck that way. All locked.”
“We are beyond luck.” Lothan raises his eyes to meet mine from where he sits on the edge of one
of the bunks. He’s tending a wound on his leg. He was hurt in the last fight, and I didn’t even realize.
A bad cut, down to the bone from the look of it.
I unwind my sash and offer it to him. “It’s not clean, but—”
“Thank you,” he says gruffly and wraps it around his thigh, pulling it tight. Unspoken between us
is the likelihood of our deaths before infection can set in, anyway.
There is still hope, that tiny golden voice says. As long as you have time together, there’s hope.
Dumb brain. How did I spend my whole life planning for worst-case scenarios, and then when I’m in
a worst-case scenario, I get this silver-lining, Pollyanna bullshit?
But my heart, my stupid human heart, agrees with that little voice. I tasted the universe without
him, and it was bitter and cold. I’m deeply fucking grateful to spend my last hours or days with him,
even if we spend them locked in a cell.
Well, an unlocked one, now that Lothan’s here.
“Wait, how did you open the cell door?” I ask. He grimaces, nodding to something behind me. I
turn and see a gray, lumpy object on the floor. A first it doesn’t register what I’m looking at, but then
the ooze spreading out from one end clues me in. It’s a Frathik hand—Lothan must’ve severed it from
one of the guards he killed and used it on the biometric scanner.
I shudder and pick it up. It weighs more than I expect, and I have to use both arms to heave it it up
like a kettle ball. It might not get us out of this hallway, but maybe it could get us into one of those
side doors.
I try the first one, doing everything to ignore the black blood that drips out of the hand and onto the
top of my bare foot. The door slides open with a satisfying hiss, and I can’t suppress a little cheer of
victory. Inside the tight space, a storage rack holds a variety of tools and parts, neatly organized in
clear containers—and weapons, I realize, hanging on the narrow back wall. No guns, but some of
their zappy sticks. Could be useful if we survive long enough to land at a spaceport. Maybe we could
fight our way out.
The next door opens, too, and a surge of adrenaline makes me feel high. Even though it’s just a
small room with a table and chairs and a security monitor with a view of our cell, maybe a
breakroom for the guards, it makes me think this just might work. This disgusting lump of Frathik meat
is our key out of here.
The next door is another supply closet, this one stuffed with flimsy boxes made of a soft,
unfamiliar gray material that’s somewhere between paper and felt. I open the lid of the top one. It’s
stuffed with plastic pouches of liquid. Water.
The next one is stacks of shrink-wrapped, brown rectangles. I recognize them—it’s one
component of the layered rations the Frathiks have been feeding us, the meaty-tasting part. The next
box has the oily yellow stuff, and another one has the fluffy, white, sweet part. Together, in the right
proportions, complete nutrition. Score.
We have weapons, we have food. And the next door is even better. It’s a goddamn escape pod. I
can’t read the instructions posted next to the big, red, pulsing button in the center, but it’s obvious. We
have a way off this ship.
I skip back to the cell with the good news. But my face falls when I see Lothan stretched out on
the bottom bunk. His wound has bled through the sash, soaking the light blue fabric with so much
blood that it looks black, and he’s barely conscious. Twinkle is praying shrilly over him, and she
shudders with relief when she sees me enter, her fronds flaring wide.
“I tried to help him, but my”—she whistles something unfamiliar, which I take means her branches
—“aren’t strong enough to stop the bleeding.”
 I drop the heavy hunk of hand-meat and rush to him, using both hands to put pressure on the
wound.
He moans, his eyes flicking open as he struggles to focus on my face. When he recognizes me, he
closes them again. “Ada. I thought you left me. You’ve been gone so long.”
“Not long. Just a few minutes. I think I found a way out of here.” I pull the sash tighter, hopefully
tight enough to hold while I move him. “Lothan, listen to me. When I put my arm under your shoulder,
you must stand.”
To his credit, he tries. He doesn’t have enough strength to open his eyes, but damn him, he makes
it upright. The weight he leans on my shoulder is excruciating, more than I can bear, and both of us
end up in a tangle on the unforgiving floor. His head lolls as he fades in and out of consciousness.
“Leave me,” he groans.
I realize, in that moment, that I won’t leave this ship without him. I can’t. I don’t think I can stand
to be separated from him ever again.
Chapter 28
 Lothan
“HHerelpvoice
me. Please, Lothan. You’re too heavy for me to carry, so you have to help. I need you.”
penetrates the fog, and something in me ignites at my Alara’s request. Like a fire in the
grass, it catches, the heat dancing through me, its glow delicate and persistent as it leads me to the
surface. When one thread fades, the next wraps around me, pulls me back to consciousness.
I blink, and a sterile, uncomfortably angular room comes into focus. Ada’s face hovers above
mine, her eyes dripping liquid onto my face. I can’t tell whether I’m awake or dreaming.
“Please,” she begs. “Please, get up.”
I gather every ounce of will and stagger upright. I let her bear too much of my weight, but it can’t
be helped. I follow her, my senses dulled, down the short passageway and through a narrow doorway
and collapse onto the small bench inside. A red glow pulses, slow like my fading heartbeat.
I’m faintly aware of Ada talking to the Traiyan, begging her to come with us in their piercing
language. Then a soft, “I understand. I hope you see your family again.”
The door closes, my eyes close, the incessant red light fades, and sleep takes me.
Something cool between my lips. Water. Too much. I’m drowning. I sputter awake and see Ada,
wide-eyed, a plastic pouch in her hands.
“I’m sorry! I thought it might help. Do you want more?”
I am weak, trembling, but lucid. From the look of my wound, it has stopped bleeding. Alioth be
praised, I won’t die today. I nod to her, and she hands the pouch to me. I drain half of it before
handing it back, motioning to her to finish the rest.
She does, and I’m mesmerized by the silver trickle of water that escapes her mouth and then
floats, globular, in the air between us.
It’s only then that I take in our surroundings, and my hope evaporates. We are unmistakably in an
escape pod. The tiny, spherical space contains a bench where we are strapped into harnesses; a
small, round window that lets in darkness rather than light; a hatch; and a simple control panel that
allows for communication with nearby vessels and planets, if there are any.
Maybe it’s not too late.
I crane my neck to see out the small window, willing the Frathik ship to appear in view. But all I
see is the dark, angry depths of the universe. I slump back against the wall. “They’re gone. Frix.”
“I thought you’d be happy about that,” Ada says dryly. “I was surprised they left, actually. I
figured they might blow us out of the sky.” She says this last part idly, like she’s talking to herself.
“If the Frathiks were merciful, they would have. But they left us to die in the cruelest possible
way.” I push away the dark imagining that swells behind my eyes—Ada’s wasted form, her cracked
lips. Watching her slip away out here where Alioth’s light cannot reach us.
“We were dead, anyway, weren’t we?” Her tone is purposely light, covering something.
“Perhaps. At least on their ship, we had hope that their greed would win out over their desire for
revenge. They might have sold us rather than kill us. But now, our fate is sealed.” I unclip my harness,
wincing at the pain that lances through my thigh when it bumps against the wall. I have had worse
wounds, but never without the benefit of Joorn’s healing tools. This one would scar if it had the
chance to heal.
I slide the window shut and flip on the false-gravity generator. After a sickening wobble, it kicks
in, pressing us both back against the wall.
“Sorry my escape attempt is unsatisfactory,” Ada bites off. She thinks I blame her for our
situation, but I only mourn that we will not have more time together. She adds sulkily, “I thought we
could take this back to your planet.”
“This pod cannot fly; it can only drift.”
“Can’t you phone home?” She motions to the communications panel screen. I take her hand,
tracing the edges of her fingers, memorizing their pale colors: sandstone, blush, flecks of earth. A
tracery of lavender capillaries speaks to me, her blood saying mates in the language of my skin. Here
and there, the faint silver marks of scars, her precious story, written there on her body.
A story I still don’t know beyond the barest details.
“We are too far away.” I gently turn her wrist so her palm faces upward and kiss the center of it.
Her eyes flutter closed at my touch. I kiss the inside of her wrist, where her pulse flutters and the
veins mark pale blue joy. “For now, I want to fulfill my promise. I want to know you.”
She sucks in her lower lip and squirms, her knees clamped together. “Here?”
Wicked delight suffuses me. She thinks I mean to claim her here, in this tiny escape pod, and now
that she has suggested it, I can think of nothing else. But my broken promise nags me. I said I would
not take her until I knew her, and I still know so very little.
I press her hand to my cheek. “Tell me more about your sister. Tell me about Lena. Tell me about
your life together on your planet. Tell me why you would deny yourself every happiness to find her. I
want to know everything.”
Her breath catches, and she pulls her hand back, looks away from me, anywhere but at me. When
she answers, her voice cracks. “Lena is—my whole world. When our mom had her car accident, I
was twelve and Lena was ten, and all we had was each other. I told you we were sent to a foster
family, but what I didn’t tell you was that the older brother was—” Her face breaks, something inside
her breaks, and I pull her into my arms. “I pretended to like him so he’d pay attention to me instead.”
She doesn’t say more, but enough pain smokes her voice that a surge of anger and possessiveness
sears my skin. I will send mercenary after mercenary, spend every coin in my treasure house, until his
ghost is gone to R’Hiza. “He hurt you,” I growl. “Tell me his name and his family’s name, and I will
end him.”
Then I remember that my treasure houses are out of my reach. I cannot even command Dorel to
execute him. My promise is empty, like all my promises to her. To know her. To find her sister. To
prove to her that she is my fated queen.
I have failed on every count.
Ada gives a firm shake of her head. “What he did to me isn’t important. He’s not important. The
story isn’t about him, it’s about Lena. She is special; she always has been. She was born that way,
with something pure in her. She can practically talk to animals, even the animals in here.” She thumps
her own breastbone, and the animal in my heart bares its teeth.
She nods at my expression. “The worst in all of us, our basest instinct. Lena can speak to it. And
she draws the worst to her, the most damaged hearts, because she can hear them. She can talk to
what’s behind the ugliness, the rage. So they love her, and on some level, they hate her for getting past
their armor. I think that’s why the Frathiks took her away from the others. Because they could feel it,
too. Like that boy felt it.” She raises her chin even as it trembles.
My brave queen. Stronger than she realizes. “You shielded her from him.”
“Not just from him. From all of them.” She swallows, her cheeks flushing with bittersweet pride,
her head high. The strange thought flashes in my mind that my father would have loved her. She would
never bend her neck, forfeit, taste the dirt. Not willingly. Not like his six disappointing sons who fell
over themselves trying to please him. She would have resisted his whims to the end.
She’s watching my face, and she raises an eyebrow at whatever she sees there. “What are you
thinking?”
I stroke her arm. Her skin is so smooth, finer than the finest sash, embroidered with tiny golden
filaments. I want to memorize them, so I can see their beautiful patterns even when I close my eyes.
“Nothing. R’Hiza take my thoughts.”
“What does that mean, R’Hiza? I’ve heard you say it so many times. Is it a name?”
I feel my lips quirk in amusement as I nod. “R’Hiza is a place. A planet. We are near it now,
actually. Perhaps you can see it, there.” I turn off the pod’s spin again so I can show her through the
window. She scans the darkness until she sees the gray smudge. The ghost planet, ringed with ice. She
stares at it, mesmerized.
“Can we land there?”
I shake my head and close the window so I can turn the gravity on again. “Too cold. That is why
we curse its name. It’s too far from the star for Alioth’s favor to warm it, so it lurks on the outskirts of
our star system, a reminder of what we would be without her light. It is a dark, frigid place. The
worst place to spend eternity.”
“Like Hell,” she observes. “That’s what we call it on Earth. Except Hell is hot.”
“Your worst place is hot?” A disbelieving grin crosses my face. “How can the worst place have
the light and favor of your star?”
She frowns at me. “Hell is supposedly underground, so I guess it’s dark. The heat isn’t from the
sunlight, it’s from the fires of the earth.”
I throw my head back, howling with laughter. Of all the things I expected for my last days alive,
trapped in an escape pod, it was not this pure amusement.
“Don’t laugh at me,” Ada grumbles. “I didn’t make it up.”
“I laugh at my brother Nik, not at you. His planet—” I break off when I run out of breath from
laughter and my abdominal muscles cramp. My amusement infects Ada, and she giggles even though
she hasn’t yet heard why this is funny. I control my emotions, just barely, long enough to explain.
“His planet is very cold, almost as cold as R’Hiza. He had to build his settlement deep
underground in the heat of the earth. To think this is like your terrakin Hell...I often tease him that my
father gave him the worst planet, and it seems we now have proof.”
Laughter overtakes us both, and Ada’s body shakes in my arms.
Nostalgia floods me, thinking of stoic little Nik in the training pits, facing off against me when it
was his turn to fight. Our father would tie one arm behind my back, evening the odds between me and
my younger brothers before he set me against them. If I refused to fight, he would command them to hit
me with the butts of their blades until, enraged, I lashed back.
I hated it. Resisted it. Held back until I was blinded with my own blood and could not see their
small, innocent faces. Only then did I fulfill my duty and obey my father’s command.
But Nik always performed his without hesitation, mechanically striking me as my father
instructed, knowing his blows would build toward my obedience. He saved us both a greater
punishment. Grass-green gratitude floods me, and I don’t bother to keep it underneath my skin.
“I should tell him,” I say, waking the comm screen with my fingers.
Ada’s laughter dies on her lips.
Chapter 29
 Ada
must’ve heard him wrong.
I “You said we were too far away to contact home,” I say, my mind as mushy as oatmeal as I
watch him input a code. A bright icon blinks to life and swirls on the screen, waiting for an answer
from the other end.
Lothan nods. “Too far from Irra. We are past R’Hiza, outside our star system. But Nik’s planet,
Usuri, is closer.”
“All this time we’ve been stuck in this pod, and you could’ve called your brother to come get
us?” I screech, disbelieving. “You asshole! Why didn’t you say something?”
He gapes at me, but before he can answer, a face scowls on the screen in front of us. I can tell
immediately that it’s not a random underling—it’s Lothan’s brother. The strong jaw and stormy gray
eyes give it away.
But there’s something more brutish about Nik’s face. Maybe it’s the jagged scar that divides it
from hairline to chin, narrowly skirting one eye. Or maybe it’s just the stoic expression above his
plain sveli, the same cut Lothan wears but made of worn, brown leather, free of any decoration. A
pale, fluffy fur lining peeks from the edges of the collar, the color and texture a stark contrast to his
stony gray skin that matches the wall behind him.
I’ve gotten so used to Lothan’s many colors, even though they embarrass him, that Nik’s lack of
color frustrates me, injects fear into me. When I stare at him, I feel like I’m looking into the dark.
Lothan, who’d been tinted faintly green a moment before, shivers as he takes on the flat color of
the escape pod interior. He inclines his head to the screen in a respectful nod. “Jara. I wish to
introduce you to my Alara. Ada, this is my brother Nik, Jara of Usuri and the most lethal assassin in
the star system.” He pulls me into the frame, and even the stoic Nik can’t suppress a surprised burst of
yellow across his forehead when he sees me and my human face. It disappears so quickly I’m not sure
it happened to begin with.
“Alara,” Nik says with a respectful nod. “I did not anticipate an introduction until we met in the
temple for your joining, but I congratulate you on finding your mate. Irra is blessed to have a fated
queen once more. May Alioth smile on your rule.”
“I’m not—” I begin to protest the title and then think better of it. “Do you think you could send a
ship to come get us? We’re stuck in an escape pod because—” I break off. Because of me. If I hadn’t
run away from Lothan, I’d be safe and sound on a planet where he had every advantage. If I’d been
patient, we’d still be alive on the Frathik ship. Instead, I marooned us in no-man’s-land. No-aliens-
land, either.
I wait for Lothan to translate, but he doesn’t. “We’re beyond R’Hiza, brother,” he says quietly.
Nik gives a terse nod of understanding. “Alara—”
“Ada,” I interrupt. Beside me, Lothan grimaces but signals to Nik that he should use my real name.
“My birds cannot range beyond the limits of our star system, Ada,” Nik explains coolly. I can tell
he dislikes the taste of my name in his mouth by the way he spits it out like something bitter. “Not if
they wish to return. My brother knows this.”
So that’s why Lothan didn’t call him before. Even if he could contact someone, he knew they
couldn’t reach us, anyway. And he must’ve known, when he came for me, that he wouldn’t be able to
bring me back, either. My rescue was never a rescue. It was a suicide mission.
“Why did you come for me?” I whisper to him, unable to finish the sentence. Why did you
sacrifice yourself? Why did you sacrifice everything if you knew it wouldn’t work anyway?
 “Because I had no other choice.” Lothan cups my face, letting me know with the reassuring soft
strokes of his fingers over my hair that he heard my true question. He turns back to the screen,
amusement quirking his mouth before he even gets the words out. “Ada tells me that on her terrakin
planet, they share our belief that, after death, some ghosts go to the shadows. They call this darkness
Hell.”
Nik’s face doesn’t change. Not even a hint of curiosity. Lothan sits forward, and I can tell he’s
anticipating his own punchline. “It’s not another planet in their system. It’s under the skin of their own
planet. And listen to this. It’s heated by the fires of the earth.”
He can barely get the words out before he collapses against me, shaking, rivers of pale blue
washing down his face and over the skin of his shoulders like a waterfall. I can’t help giggling, too.
Nik doesn’t share our amusement, just stares impassively at us through the screen. This guy
definitely does not have a sense of humor, or maybe he’s just offended by the comparison. He waits
until we’ve recovered before he speaks again. “Is that the full content of your communication?”
Wow, no wonder Lothan didn’t understand why I was so—why I am so—committed to finding
Lena at all costs. If this is what his sibling relationships are like, he has no idea how much I love her.
He basically just told Nik that we are doomed, and this guy’s like, “Is that all?”
“No,” Lothan snaps, his shoulders going rigid as he pulls me into his side. I brace myself for some
harsh words, but he surprises me with his tender tone. “Before my ghost meets the goddess, I mean to
tell you that I admire you, Nik. You have an honorable heart and a steady skin, and I have learned
much from you about duty. Alioth’s favor does not easily reach Usuri, but still you forfeit to the dregs
of her mercy that reach you. Even when we were greenlings, you were my greatest teacher.”
My heart swells, hearing Lothan bare his heart to Nik. He does know brotherly love, even if these
guys express it differently.
He continues, “I wish you to assume rule of the Five Planets, Nik. These are my last words as
emperor. I speak them to my brother, Jara of Usuri.”
The way Lothan says the last part, loud and clear even though we’re confined in a small space,
tells me the lines are ceremonial in some way. His last words must hold some weight in their culture.
Nik blinks as though he’s not sure he heard him right, although still his skin does not betray his
feelings.
Lothan’s does, darkening slightly as he waits for Nik’s response. When none comes, he says, “Do
you reject my claim to the emperor’s throne, then? I have fulfilled our father’s directives. You see my
Alara beside me. It is done. If you deny my last words, then you deny Alioth’s will.”
“I see a terrakin beside you,” Nik says carefully. “She does not wear the crown as far as I can
see. If she did, then your last words would be my law, but she does not. The last words of Chanísh
still weigh heavy on my mind.”
Lothan’s entire focus is on his brother as he leans toward the screen, his eyes narrowed. “The
goddess showed me Ada. Her favor is clear.”
Nik’s jaw flexes as he stares at us through the screen. “I only have your words. No proof. Why
should I believe this female is your fated queen when she has not stood before the Eye?” Though the
tone is harsh, it seems to be an earnest question, but it still makes Lothan hiss and flash his teeth. I’m
totally confused. I think they’re talking about me, though, which makes it my business.
I touch Lothan’s forearm. “What’s going on?”
Lothan spares me only the briefest gentle look. “My father’s last words made me emperor by fact
of your existence, Alara. Now I pass the crown to Nik, as I am obliged to name my heir.” He turns
back to the screen. “You would turn from the chance to be emperor and become a monk instead?”
 Nik snorts. “If Alioth wanted me to rule the Five Planets, she would have shown me my fated
queen. But she did not. Therefore, I am not meant to be emperor.”
“Chanísh invented that rule, no one else,” Lothan says bitterly. I think I’m finally catching up with
the conversation. For once, Lothan’s speaking sense about this star goddess situation. His father made
the rules, not the star. Lothan’s desperate need to believe I’m his fated queen is just his desire to
please his father talking.
“I speak to you my last words, Nik. You will rule the Five Planets when my ghost meets the
goddess. It is your duty.” To my surprise, he smashes his hand down on the button and ends the
communication. Nik’s face disappears. Then Lothan’s skin goes utterly black, and he swears under
his breath, “R’Hiza take him. Why does he cling to our father now?”
“It’s hard to let go of your family, even when it’s the right thing to do.” I know that better than
anyone, now that it’s too late. If I’d just let Lena go, I might still have a chance at saving her. But now
that I’ve risked myself and made Lothan risk himself, too, I’ve thrown away any hope. We’re going to
die out here, and when we’re gone, nobody else will care about her.
I let my hand wander over Lothan’s back, feeling the corded muscles beneath his ever-changing
skin. He leans into my touch, and the storm in his skin is already diminishing, lavender clouds
following the movement of my hands in ephemeral swirls, the way smoke spreads from a flame. “I
don’t know what that was with your brother”—I nod to the shadow-dark screen—“but I know we
don’t have very much time left. We shouldn’t waste it.”
He grasps my shoulders and turns me to face him. Our legs push together hard enough that he
winces at the pressure on his wound. “Tell me you believe it. Even if he doesn’t. Tell me you know in
here that you’re my queen.” He puts one hand in the center of my chest, over my heart.
I can feel it beating against his palm, like it wants to leap out of my chest. Like it belongs to him
and I’ve just borrowed it. I want to tell him everything he wants to hear. But I can’t bring myself to lie
to him. I don’t have it in me to cut him down with the truth and see that pain on his skin, either. So I
lift his hand from my chest and busy my mouth, licking down the length of one of his powerful, clawed
fingers before slipping it between my lips and sucking on the tip, tearing a groan from his throat.
“Ada,” he whispers hoarsely. “I beg you.”
“Shh,” I admonish. “Words don’t matter now. Names don’t matter. It’s just you and me. Two
souls, lost in the dark together.”
It’s a beginning—and an end. We might as well enjoy it.
Chapter 30
 Lothan
e’re lost in the light, not the dark.
W I find the universe between her thighs, first with my tongue and then with my straining
cock. I hold each moment in my mind, knowing it’s one of our last as I memorize it, prolong it, until
every taste is a feast. Every breath is a comet. Every stroke is a prayer.
The pain in my wound is always there but only on the edge of my consciousness, like the shadow
of grass, trembling in my peripheral vision. My leg eventually gives out, but the pod’s makeshift
gravity holds me up with unyielding pressure as she bucks against me, gasping, her back to the wall.
“More,” she begs. The word sears through me, penetrating my darkest corners with its light. What
more can I give her when she already has my all? My heart, my cock inside her, my planet somewhere
out there in the dark, my crown not even a thought. My life, something I can now count in days on my
fingers. What more can I give her?
I relax my neck, let the pod’s movement bend it toward her in a gesture of forfeit. Ada takes her
prize, her teeth finding their home in the hollow of my shoulder. Their little blunt edges sink into my
skin with the bright sting of starlight.
My cock pulses inside her, dragging another ragged breath from her chest before her lips fasten
over the wound she’s created. She arches against me as she greedily sucks, using her teeth to coax
more blood out when the flow slows, deepening the wound.
If we had a chance of survival, this would scar. Heal, but never disappear. It’s an admission, I
realize. That we can never truly leave each other, that the mark of her body will always be upon mine
as mine is upon hers. That we are fated, our scars mirrored, our souls inextricable.
Though she will not say it, she knows she’s a queen. My queen.
My heart and cock exult as one, and I shatter, losing myself in her, spending every coin of my
heart as my seed fills her hot core. My vision shades, and all I have is the sting of her teeth and her
searing breath in my ear, her spice my whole atmosphere as I lose control, rutting her, sinking
impossibly deep even as she begs me for more, more, more.
I’ve been transported somewhere outside my body, outside our escape pod, where I can view are
intertwined bodies with the distance of memory, like this is a moment I’ve returned to a hundred times
even though it’s unfolding right now, in my arms, in my gut. I’ve never felt this way, like my body is a
shell, empty of me and full of her.
She’s still begging when I am spent, and I feel the ruthlessness of battle creep over me. It’s her
turn to forfeit, now. I set a punishing pace with my still-hard cock and palm her breast, pinching her
tightened nipple until she relinquishes her bite, gasping as sensation overtakes her.
“Is this enough for you, my greedy queen?” I tighten my grip until she moans, grinding against me,
slickened by my seed. She closes her eyes, her breath coming in short pants.
“Never...enough.”
Never enough. The truth overwhelms me. The days will tick away, and then the hours, and then
the seconds. Even if we had a hundred years, it would never be enough. Maybe this is why the
goddess smiled on me as she did. Why she sent me on a mission I couldn’t complete. Why she gave
me Ada for such a short time. It’s not punishment; she gave me all the favor I can bear.
My other hand slips between us, finds Ada’s clit, and with brutal efficiency, takes her to the stars.
She is wild and untamable under my fingers, twisting away from my touch as she attempts to deny
herself the intensity of her pleasure, but I find her again and again. She cannot escape me.
I can tell when she accepts this—accepts us—and curls into my body, tangling our limbs together
as she gasps and shudders and begs me for mercy at the same time she begs me not to stop. Never to
stop.
We spend the next hours in near silence, tending each other, feeding each other. These are gifts,
and I receive them with reverence, feeling the warmth of Ada’s smile as though she’s Alioth herself.
Time passes. Not enough—never enough. We sleep and wake, Jara and Alara, fated to live and
die together. Spinning through the dark, our hearts pressed together, we tell each other everything
about our lives, everything we can recall from the moment we were born until this moment. Every
fear, every dream, every scar.
I know her. And for the first time I can remember, I have peace and purpose. And she shares it, or
at least I think she does.
I don’t know when it changes, exactly, but my wound begins to fester. As it throbs and swells
more and more, Ada’s blissful calm ends.
“We need to do something about this,” she says, her forehead creasing as she holds her hand
above the bloodstained bandage on my leg. It is dark and stiff over tight, sensitive skin.
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s killing you. You can hardly move.”
“Where do I need to go? From here to there?” I motion from our side of the tiny pod to the other,
letting amusement suffuse my skin. Her eyes reflect the pale blue back at me, but they’re anything but
amused.
“You think this is something to joke about? How about I go over there, and then see how you feel
about it.” She leaves my arms and moves just out of reach, her expression troubled. “You die on your
side, and I’ll die on mine. Because I know for a fact that you can’t make it over here.”
“So come back.” I wish my voice didn’t show the strain I feel. Her eyes well with sympathy, but
she buckles herself into the safety harness, like it will keep her from indulging in her worst impulses
and returning to me. My hands fist. “What do you want me to do, Alara? We are trapped here, and we
will die here, from one thing or another.”
She grips the straps of her harness and leans forward in it, her nostrils flaring. “You can’t die yet.
I’m not ready.”
“We have days yet.” I mean it to calm her, but her eyes go wild and damp.
“I can’t sit here and watch you fade away. Watch you weaken and fail and leave me.”
I draw one of my daggers and offer it to her. “You can end me now, if you prefer. My ghost will
meet the goddess without regret.”
She releases her buckle and grabs it from me. I tilt my head, baring my neck to her, waiting for the
blade’s sweet kiss. But she presses it to her own neck instead, against the evidence of my claim
where my bite has not fully healed, until a drop of blood wells, red and angry, in the same spot. The
sight of it jolts me upright despite the pain that shadows my consciousness for a brief moment,
darkening my vision and softening my spine.
Frix, what a time to lose consciousness.
When I recover enough to focus on her again, she shows her teeth and spits her words. “Now you
know how I feel.” Her mouth curls with satisfaction when she sees my horrified expression and blue-
black skin as I struggle there at her feet, unable to rise.
I bow my head, tasting earth. If she goes now, then I will follow her.
“See? You don’t want to witness my pain, either.” To my surprise, she turns the dagger around
and offers me the handle. I take it, sheathing it with trembling hands. My anger fades, but deep purple
fear is still fresh on the surface. So close to losing her—again.
 I’m not ready yet, either. “I wish you were not always so willing to die to prove a point.”
She sinks down to the floor beside me, trailing her fingers down my chest in a line from my throat
to my cock. It twitches, remembering her, and she closes her hand around its length, stroking me to
hardness again. I let her, the pleasure swelling to the same size as my pain, and the deep purple stain
in my skin begins to fade.
“Have you ever noticed how close fate is to fear?” she asks, watching a ripple of lavender
echoing from her hand. She’s right, I realize—this lavender, the color of love, is just a lighter shade
of the fear that soaked my skin. She follows it with her fingers, walking them over the landscape of
my body, as the paler color grows and finally engulfs the night-dark tone. “Maybe what we want the
most scares us the most.”
I crush my mouth against hers, devouring her lips, teasing them apart with my teeth and tongue
until she forgets to be careful of my wound and releases my cock to climb onto my lap and better the
angle of our kiss. I smile against the pain, murmuring against her soft lips, “If that’s the case, then you
terrify me.”
Chapter 31
 Ada
let him sleep, afterward. Even that seems to hurt him. Every movement or adjustment puts some
I small pressure on his leg and makes him moan in his sleep, waves of darkness moving over his
skin. Pain, fear, anger, lapping away at the shore, eroding him.
I flick off the gravity generator, and the internal pod slows and stops its spin, the curious
sensation of weightlessness creeping in. It’s unsettling, not being able to feel an up or down, but I
hope it will ease his suffering a little bit. I buckle him into a harness so he doesn’t float around and
crash into anything, and I’m finally able to relax when I see the calm come over his skin.
To my surprise, it doesn’t settle to the sandy color I’ve come to think of as his default, the color of
his planet. His body—perfect, sculpted, marred by a slash of blackened bandage—stays flushed a
pale purple, the color he says means mates.
His true color. Love. Love for me, if he’s to be believed.
Silence rings in my ears as I watch him float there. Could it all be real? Could his star have
drawn me all the way across the universe and into its orbit to be his mate? It seems like such an
effort, spanning light-years and lives, and I wish I could ask her one question.
Was it worth it?
Was it worth abducting me from Earth, jeopardizing the Irran peace treaty with the Frathiks,
Lothan losing his kingdom and his people? Was it worth all those other women’s lives, my sister’s
life, just to bring me and Lothan together, so we could share this? A few glorious, painful days,
trapped in an escape pod and facing inevitable death?
I pull myself along the wall until my fingers locate the catch on the window covering. I open it,
find the brightest star in view. It’s her—Alioth, her glow tiny as a firefly. As tiny as my hope. She
doesn’t look much different from the other stars, this far away.
But if Alioth could see me on Earth, she can see me in this little pod, so I do my best bedtime
prayer, just like my mom showed me when I was little.
Don’t let this be all for us. Don’t let our story end here. Please, let us have more. For the first
time in my life, I can see what I want and not just what someone else wants. What I want is him.
I don’t hear anything in return, just the pleasant background hum of the pod’s life-support systems.
My throat constricts, and I close the window, strangely disappointed even though I’ve never once in
my life expected to hear a divine voice reply to my bedtime prayer. Why would I now? Goddesses
have more important things to worry about than my measly whispers.
Something at the edge of the frame catches my eye just as the cover shuts. A ghost of movement. A
ghost of hope, probably. Or, with my luck, an asteroid heading our way that’s going to destroy us.
Whatever it is, I don’t want to see it. I roll my eyes at myself for even entertaining the idea of opening
it to check. Just wishful thinking.
I slide what’s left of my sveli to cover my body, then push off and float over to the empty harness.
I strap myself in, hoping to sleep, but my hair keeps floating around my face, tickling me awake
anytime I start to doze. I blow it away, frustrated, which just sends it bouncing back into my mouth
and eyes. Zero gravity might be easier on Lothan, but it’s making my skin crawl.
The pod jerks, sending Lothan’s prone form bumping into the wall. He groans but doesn’t open his
eyes. I get lost in my thoughts, wondering whether he’s unconscious or just sleeping deeply. Either
way, I’m glad the pain didn’t wake him up. He needs rest.
But then my adrenaline surges. The pod didn’t jerk for no reason. Something hit us. I wasn’t just
dreaming that movement outside the window. It was real. Something is out there.
 Shit. The Frathiks are back to collect us. And judging by a second jerk and then movement that
flattens us both against the same wall, they’re pulling our pod back into their ship.
Good news because we might not die out here.
Bad news because we might die somewhere else.
Not today, though. I unbuckle and push off, floating across the pod to Lothan. I shake him gently.
“Wake up. Please, you have to wake up. The Frathiks are here.”
“Alara,” he whispers through a moan, but he doesn’t open his eyes. Shit. Shit. Shit.
I have minutes at the most until we are back in their clutches, and I decide I’m not going to be
locked up again without a fight. I make sure Lothan’s secure in his harness so he doesn’t crash into the
wall, then flip on the gravity switch.
The inner pod starts to spin, and I shut my eyes against the woozy sensation in my stomach until
it’s fully engaged and presses me against the wall next to him. I draw the nearest dagger from the
sheath on his thigh and hold it flat against my leg.
When those gray motherfuckers come through the door, they are in for a sharp surprise. Watch out
for your elephant dicks, boys.
I hear a grating sound, and then the whole pod shudders. The gravity shifts from the walls to the
floor as different a gravity generator takes over, and the pod’s spin automatically slows and then
stops. We’re back inside the ship.
I swallow the quease that creeps up my throat, bracing myself as the hatch’s seal hisses and clicks
open. This is it. Our last hurrah before we’re tortured or sold into slavery or something even worse.
With my free hand, I grab Lothan’s and squeeze, hard. Together. At least we’re together. I’m grateful
for that.
Thank you, star goddess. She does answer prayers. Though as Lothan has reminded me, her teeth
are sharp. We get more time, that is all. The quality of that time remains to be seen.
To my surprise, he squeezes back. I don’t have time to check if he’s actually awake before the
pod cracks open and I’m squinting in the bright artificial light that floods the space and outlines a
figure in the doorway.
Tall, lean, broad-shouldered. Not a Frathik, that’s for sure. But I don’t have time to be relieved
because it’s obviously not an Irran, either. Too tall. Too lean. And silhouetted above a regal forehead,
two creepy, prehensile protrusions—tentacles? antennae?—move of their own accord, sensing.
Space bug, I think instantly, shuddering. Giant space bug. I hate space bugs.
But as the alien steps into the pod, I see it’s not truly insectoid. Reflective, silver skin frames
large, faceted eyes that, though they don’t blink, have depth and compassion. Behind the still-creepy
forehead antennae things, stark white hair is drawn into a tight bun. Any alien that can pull off a man-
bun hairdo must be civilized, I decide, and I feel myself start to relax.
But as I scan the rest of his body, my mouth goes dry. His black, formfitting jumpsuit reveals
every muscle and bulge. Let’s just say, this alien is one-hundred-percent male.
The sexy space bug notices the direction of my gaze and flashes a smile that takes my breath away
—and not in a good way. His teeth are even longer and sharper than Lothan’s, his canines twice the
length and tapering to a razor-sharp point. He’s a predator. The overall impression is that of a
muscular, chrome spider, if spiders had two legs and wore jumpsuits. He’s looking at me like I’m
lunch.
I genuinely wouldn’t be surprised if he eats us right here in the pod. My fingers tighten on the
handle of the hidden dagger as I ready myself for his attack. I’ll only have one chance to get in a
blow. This guy might be coming for us, but when he is within my reach, I’ll make him regret it.
This snack bites back.
 Lothan
ADA’S ABRUPT MOVEMENT pierces my consciousness. My eyelids feel heavy as stone as I
struggle to raise them. The gravity has shifted, and that realization wakes me up. We’re back on a
ship.
My eyes fly open. Ada is struggling in the grip of a frixing Xaszian. How dare he lay hands on my
queen? I blacken, my vision narrowing until I see only him and the pulse of the artery in his neck that
begs to be severed. I can’t stop the roar that escapes me as I fight against my bonds until I realize it’s
just the escape pod’s harness holding me back and unclip it to launch at him.
Immediately, my leg gives out, and I fall to the floor.
The silver bastard grins down at me. He has Ada’s wrists pinned above her head, and she still
grips one of my daggers. With a twisted smirk that flashes his fangs, he murmurs, “Greetings, Jara
Lothan. I am Onux, drone of Hive 4831. Can you please call off your mate? I’d prefer not to trouble
our healer any more than necessary.”
Judging by the slashes marring the parts of him that his carbonsilk suit doesn’t cover, she’s put up
a good fight. My chest swells with pride. “My Alara makes her own judgments. She has judged your
kind untrustworthy, it seems. Who am I to contradict her? I tend to feel the same.”
“You’re awake.” Ada’s body goes limp, and the Xaszian releases her, though he keeps a wary eye
on the knife in her hand. She points the tip at him as she moves to crouch beside me on the floor, her
pupils dilated as she worriedly scans my body. “You know these buzzy-bug guys?”
I nod, chuckling internally at her description. Their language, full of clicks and hums, does
resemble the sounds of the hopping insects that migrate through the grasslands of Irra. “They’re from a
planet called Xasz. Harmless.”
“Are we?” The leaflike palpae on Onux’s head straighten; I’ve offended him. He peels his lips
back, a long, pale tongue snaking out to caress one of his razor-sharp canines. Then he snaps his
mouth shut with an audible click.
“Is he going to eat us?” Ada’s earnest question makes him vibrate.
“No. They don’t have an appetite for meat. Even that as delectable as yours.”
“Those teeth say something different,” she observes quietly, still brandishing her knife up at Onux.
He gives her another toothy grin. “They’re for self-defense, not for eating,” he says, good humor
infusing his tone. He leans to avoid the tip of her blade as he extends a hand to help me rise from the
floor.
Their species is fond of offering favors that, when accepted, become debts. I ignore him and pull
myself up using the dangling harness instead, and he buzzes with annoyance at the slight.
“What do you want with us?” I ask. “I assume you plan to extract some kind of ransom. I warn you
that my brothers will not pay for my return. You will do better if you sell us at a Mizaran market.”
“Even an emperor can be a fool,” he mutters as he backs out of the pod, making room for two
more of his kind to enter. When Ada sees them, she stands up beside me, swinging her free arm
around my waist and tucking herself into the hollow of my side. It feels right to have her there,
compensating for my weakened leg.
I run a hand down her arm, letting her know she can lower the dagger when I recognize one of
them as the ambassador who visited Loth’Irra, Vzzili. He bows low, knowing our customs. “I won’t
waste time with niceties, Jara. This is our hive’s healer. Will you allow him to treat your wound? Our
scanners indicated that you were quite seriously injured.”
My leg’s hot orange throb says yes, and I nod. With a flat glance that says he would prefer not to
treat my kind, the healer crouches beside me in an enviably graceful motion. Ada tenses as he waves
a sleek, silver healing wand over my leg.
It diagnoses and treats in one icy, prickling pass, and a wash of embarrassment floods me when I
think of Joorn’s herbal remedies. His healing is effective, but if he and the other healers had tools like
these, he’d be capable of so much more. No Irran would be forced to suffer unnecessarily. It is only
the pride of Jaras and priests that has kept this from my people. We could have traded epylium for it
long ago, were it not for our obsession with keeping other species at a distance.
My pain disappears in seconds. The healer rises and holsters his wand. He and the ambassador
briefly twine their forehead palpae together. Then, some message exchanged, the healer spins on a
heel and leaves without a word.
The ambassador bows to Ada. “My apologies for the lack of official welcome, Empress. I am
Vzzili, Ambassador of Hive 4831.”
Ada makes face at me. “Now we’re saying empress? Queen was bad enough.”
I bite my lip, letting her see a tinge of blue amusement, though I am surprised by the title myself.
The swarm knows more of recent Irran politics than I expect. There are Xaszian spies in the courts of
the Five Planets, it seems.
The ambassador straightens, staring at us with his black eyes and unchanging skin that only
reflects my own colors back at me. “If you’ll follow me, I will show you to the diplomatic suite
where you can”—he makes a polite motion toward our ruined garments and blood-crusted bodies
—“adapt yourself to the environment of our hive.”
Ada gives an abrupt giggle. “Do you mean bathe?” she asks.
“Should you wish.” With a motion to Onux, he leads us out of the pod and into the uncomfortably
angular, bright passageway that smells cloyingly floral. It’s not an unpleasant scent, but I find it
claustrophobic. With a high, embarrassed hum, Vzzili gestures to an open door that leads to a cluster
of hexagonal, high-ceilinged guest quarters. “The Xaszian swarm regrets that your first visit does not
include the usual honors bestowed upon a female of your rank. We arrived as quickly as we were
able and did not have time to prepare.”
“She’ll survive without a stable of your silver tongues. My tongue is enough,” I say dryly,
stepping inside. The Xaszians have only one female, their queen, but she’s known to share her males
as a gesture of respect to queens from other star systems, a diplomatic favor I have no intention of
accepting. Ada’s eyes widen as she realizes the ambassador’s meaning, and her cheeks flush a perfect
pink. While I’d love to explore how far her color extends beneath the edge of her ruined sveli, it’s
time to negotiate.
First things first. “Did the Frathiks alert you to our presence?” I feel rather than see Ada stiffen at
the mention of the Frathiks, and I reach a reassuring hand to hers, squeezing it.
“No.” I don’t like what I see on the ambassador’s face. No longer embarrassed, his smile is wide
and smug, every tooth glittering in the shadow of his low bow. “It was your brothers.”
Shock vibrates through me like one of the lightningquakes of Alak, leaving me just as stunned and
electrified.
Ada gives a happy gasp. “I knew it! I knew Nik would help.”
My sweet, innocent queen. I draw her close, tangle my fingers in her hair, soft and familiar as the
tili that lined my cradle basket. Against her ear, I murmur, “They likely sent them assassinate us, not
to save us.”
“Not at all,” the ambassador protests. I forgot the frixing Xaszians can hear the flicker of a grass
blade on a distant moon. He bows again. “We would not dream of harming the Emperor of the Five
Planets, not when there’s so much to gain by allying our people. Your brothers have negotiated a
treaty on your behalf, but of course, as emperor, you have the right to refuse or alter the agreement as
you see fit.”
Another lightningquake as he waves his hand, raising a holographic screen between us. A
document appears on it, scrolling slowly, and my attention is momentarily pulled into reading its
terms.
They are fair. Very fair. The Xaszians agree to return me and Ada to Irra in time for the joining
ceremony, in exchange for a communications tower to be constructed at their expense on Alak. Nik
must have contacted Kyaal and convinced him to agree to this, although I can’t envision how—or
why—either of them would do this on my behalf.
“These terms are...acceptable,” I finally say. I’ll pay a higher price than this—Nik and Kyaal will
likely exact some fee of their own, one that I can’t negotiate. But I will pay it, somehow, even if it
takes a lifetime.
I lift my palm to the holographic screen and add my biosignature, thinking it is done. But the
ambassador then nods to Ada. “Empress.”
Ada raises her palm to place it over mine, then lowers her arm. “Wait—what am I signing?”
Of course, she can’t read the contract, and I did not explain it to her as I should have. I am not yet
in the practice of sharing responsibility for my planet and people. A deficit I need to correct.
“We are free now, Alara,” I murmur to her. “Nik and Kyaal negotiated an exchange, our passage
back to Irra for a Xaszian communications tower built on Alak, Kyaal’s planet. It is done.”
She frowns. “That seems like an expensive pulayne tikkit.”
My language implant doesn’t parse the phrase, but I understand her meaning—she thinks my
brothers did not strike a fair bargain. If only she knew how wrong she was, given the Xaszians’
strength and reach compared to ours.
“The swarm queen would build her tower with or without my permission, given time,” I explain.
“She only agrees to this exchange to buy my goodwill in the future, I expect. Our goodwill,” I correct.
The ambassador inclines his head, respectfully agreeing. Dread swirls through me like wind in
the grass, rustling my thoughts and raising my doubts like dust. What does the swarm queen really
want? Perhaps the tower is only the beginning of a plan to conquer the Five Planets completely. Just
one more star system studding her belt, more planets to terraform and exploit so she can expand her
empire.
“Are you sure we can trust them?” Something in Ada’s face has shifted, and I realize I’ve let my
skin show my uncertainty. It’s too easy to be transparent to her, even when it doesn’t serve her, like
my body is made of glass. Where’s my control? I have failed her, again.
I clench my teeth and settle my skin. “The Xaszians will meet their end of the bargain,” I assure
her. “The swarm queen may be ruthless, but she is honorable.”
Still, Ada bites her lip, hesitates to place her palm over the imprint of mine.
“Perhaps the empress would like to see the terms in her own tongue?” the ambassador suggests.
With a few small motions of his fingers, the holographic contract dissolves and reappears in blocky,
regular marks. Her terrakin letters, I realize, as her face opens and beams as bright as the goddess
herself.
“Eenklish!” she exclaims, open-mouthed.
Chapter 32
 Ada
’ll be damned. These buzzy-bug guys know English. I didn’t even stop to wonder why their
I language implants could already translate my words when the Irrans’ and Frathiks’ couldn’t. But I
should have.
“You’ve been to Earth,” I accuse.
Ambassador Vzzili makes a harsh buzz in his throat. “No. It is forbidden to make contact with
species in that sector.” He clasps his hands behind his back and stares past me, as though bracing
himself for criticism.
He’s hiding something. I wish these aliens changed colors like my aliens do. Then I might be able
to figure out what their deal is. “How do you know Earth languages, then?”
“I confess I share my Alara’s curiosity,” Lothan adds mildly, his fingers possessively curling
around mine.
The ambassador flicks his level, lidless gaze back to me. “Your species is...noisy. Spewing
waves of every kind constantly, battering us with your sounds. We began terraforming an outer planet
in your star system, but we were forced to abandon it prematurely due to incessant terrakin chatter
that interfered with our communications.”
“Sounds about right,” I mutter, suddenly mortified by the thought of all the crap Earth probably
broadcasts. Reality TV shows and talk radio and crappy pop music and who knows what else. Lothan
flashes his teeth, pale blue amusement washing the tips of his ears.
“A communications tower on Alak will aid us in completing our project there—and elsewhere,”
the ambassador continues, indicating the screen. He cocks his head, expecting some response from
me. I wish these government assholes would just say what they mean. Why would I care about their
farming project or whatever it is? Just because they’re fucking with Neptune or wherever...
Oh! I suck in my breath. “You’re going back?!”
A single nod. Lothan’s grip tightens on my fingers until I wince with pain.
“Can you guys—” I begin, my voice pitched high and breathless. I break off, centering myself.
This is a diplomatic negotiation, not calling an Uber for my girlfriends after a night at the club. I suck
in a deep breath and try again. “Would your queen provide passage to Earth for some, um, terrakin
women who were abducted from our planet against their will? If you’re going back there to finish
your terraforming, it won’t be a pain in the—it won’t be out of your way,” I amend, hoping that
sounds queenly or empress-ly or whatever.
The ambassador makes the grating sound again. “It’s forbidden to make contact with species in
that sector. Visiting your planet would...complicate our mission. Our queen would face diplomatic
consequences if it were known.”
“We wouldn’t tell anyone. We’d keep it a secret.” He looks skeptical, so I add, desperation
coloring my tone, “I swear on my sister’s life. I would consider it a great favor if the queen granted
my request.”
The ambassador looks stunned. I know siblings don’t mean as much to aliens as they do to us
Earthlings, but something I just said made an impression because he flicks his arm, and the scrolling
English contract disappears. Lothan tenses, and I hope I haven’t just insulted Vzzili and voided the
whole deal Lothan’s brothers negotiated.
Another freaking bow. “I will speak with the queen and return when I have her answer. Excuse
me.” He leaves the room.
I let my breath out in a rush. I can’t believe this is happening. “Do you think their queen will
agree?” I ask Lothan.
He closes his eyes before he answers, keeping his voice and skin carefully neutral. “Yes.”
I move closer to him. Something’s wrong. He doesn’t hide from me like this unless something’s
wrong. “Are you mad at me for negotiating?”
“No.” His eyes are still shut.
“Look at me.”
“No.” He swallows, his skin eerily monotone.
“Then what is it?” I reach down and cup his balls, squeezing them gently. Even that doesn’t seem
to get his attention. “Hey. Why won’t you look at me?”
He groans, pulling away and retreating to the far cormer of the room, where he flattens back on
the hard-looking bed so he can stare up at the ceiling instead of meeting my eyes.
“Coward.”
“Frix, Ada, they don’t look it, but your teeth are sharp as Alioth’s.”
“Is that a compliment?” I’m pretty sure it’s a compliment, given how he constantly drools over his
goddess.
“Yes. Come to me. Test them on my skin.” He gives the order with the arrogance and heat of a
king, and it liquifies the juncture of my thighs. Drawn like a magnet, I go to his side, and he jerks me
down on top of him with a satisfied hiss, tilting his head to offer me access to the tender hollow of his
shoulder where I bit him before.
Tempting. My lips buzz with desire as I lean toward him. But the purr of satisfaction in his chest
stops me. This is a distraction, a ploy to get me off the topic, and he knows it.
I roll off him, irritated. “Tell me what’s bothering you first. Something I did isn’t sitting right with
you, and you can’t just shove it under the rug—under the furs,” I amend, when his confused frown
reminds me that I haven’t seen any rugs in his palace.
His arm curves around my waist and sends a rushing cascade of sinful sensation through me,
washing away my resolve. I twitch away. “If we’re going to rule together, then we have to
communicate. You have to tell me what you’re thinking. You have to open up to me.”
Lothan rolls on top of me, pinning my limbs to the bed. “What about you? Are you”—he nudges a
knee between my legs, forcing them apart in one delicious, needful motion—“open to me?”
Instinctively, I grind against the hard muscle of his thigh, biting my lip against the moan that
threatens to humiliate me. My heart and mind might be united against his goddess, but my body is as
hot as a star for him. I wriggle and let him feel the heat that he’s stoked in my pussy, whimpering
when the press sends a burst of pleasure radiating from my clit, deepening the ache in my core. “I am
open. Don’t make me beg.”
His face hardens as he stares into my eyes. He will make me beg. “Tell me: what happens when I
give you my all? When I claim you, take you, mate you, queen you? Give you my bed, my heart, my
people, my star? Will you still run? When the Xaszian hive sets out for Earth, will you be among its
passengers?”
That’s what this is about. He fears that, once I’ve taken the crown, I will leave him.
“You said I could go if I wanted,” I answer thickly.
“I did. But maybe I lied. Maybe I’ll keep you forever.” He leans in to tug my earlobe with his
sharp teeth, sinking them in just far enough to sting but not to break the skin, skating that fragile
boundary of flesh like he knows it by heart, like it’s his body as much as mine. The dangerous thought
rises in me that maybe it’s true. Maybe I’m his.
I suck in my breath. “If you’re so willing to violate our agreement—” I break off when he moves
down my throat to the tender hollow to lick where his bite is still dark and swollen. I can feel his
cock heating and hardening as it presses against my belly, and I can’t help arching up against it.
Am I trying to get closer to him or push him away? Frustration stretches me thin. “I can’t think
when you’re touching me.”
He murmurs hot in my ear. “We don’t need to think. Goddess, Ada, if I think too much, I wonder
why you are always running from me. But if I feel you”—he moves my wrists together so he can pin
them with one hand, the other snaking between my legs and invading my pussy, and a gleam of
satisfaction grows on his face as he feels how wet I am—“I feel how much you want me, how
perfectly we match each other, kiss for kiss, lust for lust. How perfectly we are created to be one. So
don’t think. Just feel.”
A finger slides inside me as his thumb circles my clit, and I squeeze my eyes shut, too breathless
to contradict him when it feels this good.
Why am I like this, so susceptible to him? My sister is in the hands of evil slavers, a dozen
women’s fate hangs on this negotiation, and I’m making out with an alien. It’s sick. I’m sick. But I
can’t help it. I love him.
“You are mine. If you put lightyears between us, it will still be true.” He brushes his lips down
my throat again, flicks his tongue delicately over his claim. The sweet snake of pleasure that slides
from it to harden my nipples is like a drug. I want more. I want his teeth, even if that makes me a bad
person.
I bend my neck, offering it to him like he offered his to me, but he doesn’t take it.
“Please, more,” I whimper, struggling toward those sharp edges, hoping they’ll catch. Hurt as
much as I hurt. But he doesn’t allow it, instead using his mouth to drag my attention to his face. He
plunges another thick finger into my core, stretching my pussy and my resolve with one motion.
“Will you stay with me, Ada?” He uses my name instead of Alara. Offering me the gift of freedom
in that one word. Offering me another path, one that is not the inexorable will of a star goddess or
some other mysterious universal force drawing us together, but my own decision.
My choice.
As if I have one now that I know what it is to lose him.
“Yes. I’m yours.”
Chapter 33
 Lothan
y skin hums with exultant pleasure as I take Ada over the edge with unrelenting strokes of my
M fingers, feeling the strength of her sweet depths as she clenches around my hand. She is open
to me, taking what I can give her as she gives me her all.
She is mine. For all the rotations of my planet. Our planet, now.
What a gift.
With a final shuddering wrack of her body, she turns her glazed eyes on me, her cheeks high pink,
her lips swollen. Her hands rove over my chest and then lower. She grasps my aching cock, and I
almost lose myself in her grip like a greenling.
“Your turn,” she murmurs. “I want you.”
No kill in the fighting pits has made my blood sing like this. No victory has ever felt so pure and
sweet. Finally, she submits to Alioth’s will, and to my claim, and I will show her what it means to be
truly mine. But before I can turn her to her belly, draw up her hips, and plunge into her, a polite buzz
at the door indicates that the ambassador has returned.
Frix.
“A moment.” I rise against her pleasure-drunk murmur of protest and locate a storage closet full
of the Xaszians’ black carbonsilk jumpsuits. Handing one to her, I slip one on myself. When fastened,
it automatically adjusts to my size and shape, encasing me like a full-body prison. How the Xaszians
can fight in these is beyond me, but there is no time to ponder because the instant that we are fully
clothed, the ambassador is inside.
R’Hiza take these silver bastards and their supersonic hearing. There’s no measure of privacy on
this entire frixing ship.
Vzzili bows to both of us. “Her eminence the queen is pleased to offer passage to the terrakin
females. They may accompany us when we return to their star system.”
Ada’s mouth drops open. “That’s it? They can just—go? For free?” My heart’s hammer skips its
strike when she says they instead of we. She does mean to stay with me.
“Indeed. Return is slated for cycle 7739. We have several missions in other systems to complete
first, but with Emperor Lothan’s permission, the terrakins may reside in this star system until then.”
Anger pools in my gut at his words. This is all a pretense of generosity. Even Ada senses it, her
brows drawing together. “How long will that be?”
Vzzili performs a few calculations on his comm device. “Approximately sixty of your terrakin
years.”
Ada chokes, her face drawn and pale, and I know why because it’s the root of my anger, too. The
terrakin lifespan is very similar to ours. In sixty of their years, they’ll be old women—or dead. But
the Xaszian queen was aware of that when she made the offer. This is just the first parry of her
negotiation. She pretends to give a concession, but it is one that cannot be accepted.
I show my teeth and nod to Vzzili, as though he has suggested exactly what I’d hoped. “Excellent.
That will give us plenty of time to locate your sister and the other missing terrakins,” I explain to
Ada. I let some color slide over my features, reassuring her, praying to Alioth that she understands my
tactics and does not step in to negotiate on her own.
She looks puzzled, but she stays silent—a great feat for a terrakin woman.
Vzzili’s hum rises in pitch as he glances between us. “Of course, it is possible we could return
earlier...”
To counterbalance Ada’s involuntary gasp, I let disinterest color my voice. “Is that so?”
 “In her wisdom, the queen’s interest is always the benefit of her people. That is why she extends
her reach so far, to claim the resources her people require.”
I wait, my skin still. Impatience will only show my hand. Our hand. If the Xaszians want
something from us, let them be first to speak.
The ambassador does not disappoint. “It is taxing and time-consuming to terraform new planets—
such as the frigid planet in your system—to our specifications,” he remarks to Ada. “Not to bore you
with technical details, but it requires many steps and many cycles to transform the soil and
atmosphere of a planet, seed it with plants and microorganisms, wait for it to accumulate biomass,
and so forth, before it is of use to us. We prefer to find those that already meet our specifications. But
of course, these planets are almost always inhabited already. And we are farmers, not colonizers. We
would not displace an indigenous population unless we were invited.”
Though he’s speaking with her, his eyes flick to me, gauging my reaction.
In that instant, I know what they want.
They want a planet with fertile soil and abundant grasses, with a rich atmosphere and mild
weather and few oceans. A planet hospitable to the worms the Xaszians farm for their cocoons.
Carbonsilk cocoons, the substance that fuels the swarm queen’s empire, enabling everything from
their seamless interstellar travel to their unbeatable weaponry to their self-tailoring frixing jumpsuits.
And the larger her empire grows, the more carbonsilk they need.
Like the terrakins, they don’t want to wait until cycle 7739, either. They need it now.
They need Irra.
I push away the vision of my planet that rises in my mind—the cries of hungry braxas as
carbonsilk worms rampage over a decimated grassland. The taste of earth as the rising dust storms
scrape Loth’Irra from the cliffs. My palace’s perfect view of the ruin I’ve allowed to take place.
Ruling as Jara of nothing.
But I am emperor of Five Planets now, not just Jara of one. We Irrans can survive on Alak and
Endan and Olethia and yes, even in tunnels under the icy wastelands of Usuri, if necessary. It’s a
price we will gladly pay for the favor of Alioth, if this is what she wants. If it is what Ada needs.
“It’s done.” I give the ambassador a brisk nod, and he is at my side, pulling up the holographic
screen and punching and swiping at it gracelessly in his eagerness. It’s no wonder he exults; this is a
victory for him that will likely spell the rise of his career, perhaps from ambassador to advisor or
even mate of the queen. I pity him for it. High honor though it may be, everyone knows the Xaszian
queen eats her mates.
“What’s done?” Ada asks, rising from the bed to peer at the scrolling new contract.
The ambassador gives a polite, zippy noise and converts the contract into her terrakin characters.
She scans the document, the tip of her tiny pink tongue poking out between her lips, and draws in a
sharp breath when she reads the terms.
“No. No. This is unacceptable.” She glares at me, as though it’s my fault. “You can’t just let them
have anything they want.”
“It is a necessary sacrifice, one I make with consideration.” Even to my ears, the words sound
hollow, though they’re true. Irra has always been my home, and it feels like a mortal wound to
sacrifice it, but Ada has taught me that sometimes sacrifice is what the goddess demands. My Alara
will never see her first home again, either.
Vzzili buzzes in agreement. “To alter our terraforming schedule to such a degree requires
considerable sacrifice, which can only be compensated in-kind with the use of a habitable planet.”
“Interstellar travel is easy for you guys, right?” Ada narrows her eyes, and pride swells in my
chest as the ambassador steps back from her, seeing the threat behind them.
“Easy, no. Possible,” Vzzili corrects.
“Your ship is fast, though, right? Faster than the Frathiks’?”
He’s not able to disagree with that and merely bends his head.
She nibbles her lower lip pensively. “How much can a short detour to Earth possibly delay your
little worm-farming plans?”
I chuckle. The swarm queen is not the only one who knows how to negotiate. My little queen
does, too.
Vzzili regards her with a blank expression and performs some calculations on his comm device.
“Approximately two years, given the exponential nature of terraforming. Plus the journey would
require considerable resources. Fuel and nutrition and so forth for the travel and life-support of the
swarm and the terrakins during that time, with no external reward but the fulfillment of our
obligation.”
“Certainly, we would not want your assistance to go uncompensated,” Ada says. Her hand grasps
mine as her voice grows more steady and sure. She looks to me, waiting to see if I will step in and
resume where she has left off, but I would not shadow her now, not when she’s shining so bright.
I squeeze her hand, urging her on. She takes a deep breath. “Two years’ sacrifice is great, and we
are deeply appreciative the queen would consider making it on our behalf.”
Vzzili swells under his carbonsilk chest plate at the praise. He scrolls to the end of the contract
and indicates where we can add our biosignatures. But Ada clenches her hand in a fist, backing away
from the screen. I move with her as one automatically; if she will not sign, then neither will I.
“We cannot trade our planet for such a discrete favor.” Ada’s expression is open and genuine as
she meets the ambassador’s compound eyes. “The price is far too high.”
“Expensive pulayne tikkit,” I add, remembering her human words to indicate an unfair bargain.
Ada shoots me a surprised grin that sends a new pulse of pleasure into my gut.
“I see. The queen will be...disappointed.” Despite his final tone, the ambassador doesn’t move to
close the holo-screen. The negotiations remain open.
“As am I,” Ada says piercingly. The ambassador shifts uncomfortably, swallowing hard. A rare
sight, a discomfited Xaszian. Perhaps their queen-worship is their weakness, if it disturbs them so
much to see a female unhappy.
“What would please you, Alara?” I stroke her arm, for I am not immune to queen-worship myself.
And if the gesture buys me a Xaszian’s trust, then all the better. “Hypothetically, are there terms you
might accept?”
Ada smiles up at me, pretending to answer my question, pretending the negotiation is with me and
not the ambassador. “Perhaps if the contract included some limits, it would be more amenable. For
example, a limited time period of hosting the carbonsilk worms.”
“We have no sense of how the grasses of Irra will nourish the worms. They may take longer to
mature,” Vzzili protests. “We cannot agree to a time limit or else we risk forfeiting the bulk of our
harvest.”
Ada smiles at me, ignoring him. “Or instead of a time limit, we could include a production target
for the carbonsilk. Some threshold amount we must produce to fulfill the contract. Then, when Irra’s
obligations are met, we could resume our way of life. That would be very pleasing to me.”
Interest flickers in Vzzili’s expression, whether in her pleasure or in the terms she proposes, I do
not know. He flicks away the screen and bows. “I will speak with the queen. I warn you, we are close
to your planet now. The terms she outlines will be our final offer. I sincerely hope we can reach some
arrangement.”
“Of course.” Ada lowers her eyes until the ambassador leaves and then turns to me, unable to
contain her excitement as she paces around the perimeter of the quarters. “What do you think she’ll
say? Oh my god, my stomach is in knots.”
An odd terrakin expression, but the description is apt. My stomach, too, twists as I think about the
amount of carbonsilk the swarm queen will demand. It’s likely that, even with these limits she
suggests, the grasslands will be too devastated by the worms to support life for generations.
Our greenlings will never see the beauty of the grasslands as they shift from the pale green of new
shoots to broad, bright blades of maturity to whispering gold before harvest. They will only taste the
dust that rises in its stead, defeat permeating the very air they breathe.
The goddess demands a sacrifice from all of us, and this is mine. I will be known as the emperor
who ruined Irra. A villain in history, perhaps, like my father Chanísh, whose rule was filled with war
and discontent. Who caused Alioth to withdraw her favor. So be it.
The priests say that when the goddess smiles, it casts a shadow somewhere. If our family line is
the shadow cast by her will, I can live in this darkness, as long as Ada is by my side.
I swallow. “You’ve negotiated for your people well, Alara.”
She stops her circuit of the room to stare at me. “You don’t seem happy.”
I bow my head. “You know what it is to lose a planet.”
Chapter 34
 Ada
othan’s words hit me like a punch to the stomach, knocking the breath out of me. I do know what
L it feels like to lose a whole world. To say goodbye to a home forever. I’ve said a lot of
goodbyes like that.
But that’s not what’s happening here.
His neck is bent like it was in the fighting pits when he forfeited his match to Biinji. I’m at his
side in an instant, tugging his chin down to kiss his grief away. He finally drags his mouth away with
a groan.
“You don’t like my kisses?” I tease him.
He pulls his head back and lets the color wash over him. Indigo, charcoal, tangerine, all his fear
and anger and pain, roiling like thunderheads over his body, a silent symphony of suffering.
“Have I caused all this?” I whisper.
“No.”
I sag against him with relief and one corner of his mouth turns up.
“Not all. And you’ve caused this, too.” Lightning bolts of bright pastel colors flicker over his face
and down his body—pale blue, rosy pink—more and more until they illuminate every shadow,
driving away the clouds and then twining and melding together until his skin is a swirling, pale
lavender that pulses in time with the beat of his heart.
His true color. Not the color of the sandy rocks of Irra, but the color of us.
“I would lose my planet a hundred times before I would lose you. My home is with you, wherever
we are. Even here with these insufferable Xaszians.”
My throat tightens with emotion as I run my hands over his beautiful, colorful skin. “I would never
ask that of you.”
He caresses my face, his gray eyes the only remaining evidence of his grief, and bends his head to
run his teeth over my lower lip. “I know. But it’s likely it will come to pass regardless. The swarm
queen will assuredly demand a quantity of carbonsilk that will devastate the grasslands. We are not
likely to see them recover in our lifetimes. But our greenlings and their greenlings will watch from the
other four planets, and when Irra is in balance once more, they can return.” His tone is wistful. He’s
already nostalgic for a planet he hasn’t lost.
He doesn’t get it, I realize. My heart lights up, and I grab his hands and squeeze. “Don’t you see?
If the contract specifies a certain amount of carbonsilk without a time limit, we can take as long as we
want to produce it. We can choose the number of worms and limit them to only a portion of the
grassland. We’ll rotate them to give the grass time to recover. We don’t have to let them eat
everything to the ground. It will be sustainable. That’s how we do it on Earth when we grow crops or
raise animals.”
Lothan gapes at me. “How do you know such things?”
“I was the Kootenai County Potato Princess,” I say, grinning. He has no idea what I’m talking
about, but I am cracking up on the inside that something as simple as crop rotation is blowing his
mind. “Actually, I learned about it in school. That’s the place where children gather in dangerous
numbers to learn from wise adults,” I explain with a grin when his forehead creases with confusion at
the word.
“I would like this skuul for the greenlings of our planet. All our planets,” he amends. “I am not yet
accustomed to thinking of all five, but if I am to be emperor, this must change. Many things must
change.”
 Isn’t that the truth. I have a few things to get used to myself: my new home. My new role. My new
mate. My new life without my sister. My shoulders tighten at the thought.
“The goddess will protect her,” Lothan murmurs, as though he can read my emotions on my skin.
“Alioth brought you to me from across the universe, so she will smile on Lena, wherever she is, until
we find her again.”
I believe him. He won’t give up on her, either.
“Thank you.” I nestle my fingers inside his broad palm and let his warmth surround me and push
away any chill I feel at the thought of life without my sister.
The ambassador comes back just as the ship lands at the spaceport on Irra. The swarm queen has
agreed to a set amount of carbonsilk production in exchange for passage back to Earth for the
terrakins. The Xaszians will make the journey as soon as they finish building the communications
tower on Alak.
We sign with our palms, and Lothan transmits an electronic copy to the Irran archives as soon as
we’re close enough to the planet.
It’s done.
We did it. We saved ourselves and Irra and all my friends. It came at a high cost, but it’s one we
can pay.
Chapter 35
 Lothan
invite the Xaszians to our joining ceremony, but the ambassador politely declines, making excuses
I that they must make preparations to host the terrakin females. Ada and I walk alone up the steep,
winding streets of Loth’Irra. Whispers follow us up the cliffs like ghosts. Princess, queen, empress.
When we reach the main doors of the palace, we are met on the steps by a row of black-cloaked
figures, hoods raised so their faces are in shadow. A cranac of priests. I haven’t seen so many in once
place since I visited the Eye, and it sinks a dagger of fear into my spine.
I draw Ada closer to me, and only then notice my brothers and Dorel standing to one side.
Another cranac, one whose loyalties I cannot tell. Biinji is not with them, though, which puts me on
edge.
“Is the greenling safe?” I ask Dorel. If the priests have taken him to use against me, if they spill
even a drop of his blood, I will hunt and kill them all, one by one, and fly their cloaks like flags over
Loth’Irra until the wind turns them into tatters.
Dorel nods and flicks his ear membranes with a sidelong look at the priests assembled around us.
He is not eager to reveal Biinji’s location in their presence, which means he isn’t sure they are
trustworthy, so I don’t push for more reassurance.
The cloaked figure blocking the door throws back his hood, revealing the familiar face with crude
proportions, his eyes too close together, his nose too sharp, his forehead too low. The High Priest
bows to me, ignoring Ada.
“Zomah.” I keep my skin as flat as my voice. “We do not deserve such a welcome. How will the
Eye see if all its priests are here on Irra?”
“The new Emperor of the Five Planets deserves our gaze, wouldn’t you say? If he indeed is our
emperor.” Zomah smiles with his lips pressed together, which is somehow more unsettling than if
he’d shown his teeth.
“Alioth willing.” I tug Ada’s hand, moving to pass the row of priests on our way to the temple
steps. At a tiny gesture from Zomah, the priests fan out, blocking our way. They produce weapons
from under their shadowcloaks, and in the same instant, my brothers drop their svelis and ready to
fight.
A wash of gratitude floods me. I doubt it is love for me that raises their knives. More likely, it’s
their distaste for the priesthood. But they have never fought at my side, only against me, and I find I
like their blades at my back.
To my surprise, my father’s ghost has nothing to say about it.
Ada’s hand tenses in mine. “What’s going on?”
“Goddess-deniers are unwelcome in the temple of Alioth.” Zomah tucks his hands inside his
sleeves with a narrow look at Ada. But his words are for me. “You pollute our soil with this creature
who does not even speak our tongue.” The priests on the steps crouch slightly, like they’re readying to
attack on his command, and I hear a growl escape Thren’s throat. I appreciate his loyalty now that I
need it, but my brothers are only five against ten times that many priests. And Lyro still wears a
shadow cloak, I realize. He stands with the Eye.
I speak loud enough to reach the ears of the priests who stand farthest behind Zomah. “The
goddess chose my Alara. It is you who deny the goddess if you prevent our joining.” I try not to let my
fear at being separated from Ada fracture my voice.
“So this is how you wish to begin your rule of the Five Planets, with fealty to inferior species,
this terrakin, whose loyalty is with a foreign queen who uses her as a weapon against our kind?”
 If this priest levels one more false charge against Ada, I may have to remove his tongue from his
mouth. But bloodshed is not the way I wish to begin my rule, either. I suck in a breath through my teeth
to settle my skin. “You overstep, priest. The Xaszians’ generosity saved my life and—more valuably
—the life of my Alara. The swarm queen does not need to worship Alioth as we do to fulfill her will.
She needs only honor the bargain we have struck.”
“Yes, I’ve seen the contract negotiated by your so-called Alara.” The word, so beautiful on my
tongue, is sour on Zomah’s, like it gags him. “I confess, it is an admirable feat. In just a few lines, the
terrakin guts our entire culture. Destroys our people and our planet. Binds us as slaves to these
barbarians while securing freedom for her own kind. The Eye will not stand by and watch Irra
destroyed by the Xaszian worms, Jara.”
Searing winds whip down from the cliffs, snapping the priests’ cloaks around their bodies,
pulling them tight enough to show the outlines of the additional weapons strapped underneath. They’re
armed like assassins. They came for war.
“Do not forget that the Eye serves at the pleasure of the emperor and empress.” My words are a
warning. The priests’ power is at my discretion, not the other way around. As easily as my father
grew the Eye’s wealth and reach, I could strip it all away.
“You are not emperor just yet. First I must examine the Alara to ensure her claim is genuine. She
must prove she is not a puppet of the swarm. Only then is her treaty with them valid. Only then, can
the joining proceed. Only then will you rule the Five Planets.”
I can’t keep my pigment at bay any longer. I let it wash me dark with anger, and I feel rather than
see my brothers and Dorel step forward, ready to die. “She is no puppet.”
“May Alioth smile on her.” Zomah’s teeth glitter as his cranac descends on us, ripping Ada away
from me and dragging her up the stairs to where he stands.
With a roar, I lunge for her, blades clashing all around me as my brothers rush to defend us both,
but a flock of priests pull me back, their fingers digging into me through my claustrophobic jumpsuit.
If it weren’t for the frixing carbonsilk, they’d be leaving bruises.
They press their weapons to my neck and divest me of my blades. I submit long enough to see
Zomah’s mouth twist with revulsion as he looks down at Ada’s bright gold fur in his grip. Then he
pulls her away up the stairs, my brave queen struggling every step of the way, until they disappear
behind a wall of shadowcloaks. The priests holding me back are eventually forced to loosen their
grips as Nik and Thren work together to drive them away from me.
“I pray the priests will be fair,” Nik says tersely when he reaches my side. I strip away the
constrictive suit so my skin can settle into the color of the stones, and he hands me his extra blade,
motioning for Thren to do the same. Thren removes the long knife from its sheath grudgingly, like it’s
a R’Hiza-damned greenling and not just a backup blade. I snatch the handle from him.
“Fair,” I spit, testing the two knives’ weight. They are not evenly matched; Thren’s is heavier.
But they will do. “I don’t think they are capable of seeing beyond the shadow of their hoods.”
I hear a derisive snort and raise my eyes to meet Lyro’s where he stands a few steps above me.
“The Eye sees the truth,” he says lazily.
He still wears a shadowcloak—one of only a few priest hoods left on the steps, I realize. The
ones that still engage Fenix, Kyaal, Nik, and Thren. Just enough of them stayed behind to keep us busy
while the other priests retreat up the stairs to the temple where Zomah has taken Ada.
With a lazy flick of his blade, Lyro stops me from mounting the steps. “Let Alioth decide. If your
Alara is true, the priests will celebrate your joining.”
“Move. You don’t know as much about your precious priests as you think,” I say.
 “You think they are precious to me?” Lyro laughs bitterly, but he undercuts his scathing tone when
he raises a blade to block me again.
“They have your loyalty, and I do not. R’Hiza take me, I should cut your heart out now.”
Nik, near enough to overhear, makes a noise of disbelief even as he cuts down his opponent, but
Lyro just chuckles at my threat. “Why not? It’s inevitable that one of us will kill the others. Our father
has planned it since the moment of our births. He has shaped us to do so. We honor him thus.” He
steps back from me and draws his second dagger with the ceremonial flourish, bowing low in a
mockery of respect. He mirrors my crouch, dropping his cloak. Before it hits the stones, my borrowed
blades are flashing toward him, forcing my words out in bursts between my blows.
“There is no honor in spilling a brother’s blood.”
“Then why do you try to spill mine?” He dives toward me, trying to find a home for his blade
between my ribs, but I step aside so it only grazes me. He circles me, looking for a new opening.
“Our father’s disloyalty thrives in you, so I will do my brotherly duty and erase it.” I have Lyro’s
attention now, and I see a measure of curiosity cross his face.
He slackens his pace, his lower lip caught in the points of his teeth. “No one was more loyal to a
brother than our father. He fought a war for Oljin.”
No, he fought a war to cover up his deception and betrayal. I don’t bother telling Lyro the story of
Oljin’s fated queen. He won’t believe me, and I don’t have time to convince him, not when Zomah has
his hands on Ada.
“You’re wrong about that—and many other things,” I add. In my peripheral vision, I notice the
two priests fighting Thren and Kyaal drift toward us, drawn by our conflict.
“What is Alioth’s will?” one of them calls to Lyro. Asking him if he wants their help killing me, I
assume.
“The Eye shall see,” he answers, still watching me with his priest-gaze.
“To the temple!” Thren roars, pointing up the stairs, and he and Kyaal take advantage of the
priests’ inattention and dash for it. I hear the clamor of a blade-on-blade echo down the cliff, and a
swell of satisfaction fills my chest as Lyro’s focus is pulled away from me. My brothers are doing
their part, and I’m surprised by how much this moves me.
“It will be bloody. You should probably assist,” I say to the two priests, unable to keep the
amusement out of my tone. They seem reluctant to follow my instructions, but when Lyro nods to them,
they disappear like ghosts, Nik, Dorel, and Fenix on so close behind them that they can cut the hems
of their cloaks.
When they’re gone, and the sounds of fighting fade, Lyro smirks at me in the silence, as though
I’ve told a joke. “Chanísh’s heir does not disappoint. I’m almost sorry to end you. You would have
made a formidable emperor. How did you recruit them all to your cause?” He doesn’t finish the
question before he lunges for me, hoping to catch me unaware, but Alioth’s fire already heats my
blood, and I step aside.
His blade rings against the stone wall behind me. He laughs, but I cut it short with a flick of my
own knife that draws a stripe of blood across his upper arm.
A flash of guilt pulses in my gut. “I could have ended you with that cut.”
I don’t know why I feel compelled to make an excuse. Perhaps in some way I feel I’m explaining
it to Ada. She would never raise a hand against her sister, no matter what Lena had done. She would
let her sister strike her down.
“So why didn’t you?” Again, Lyro doesn’t wait, using the question as a decoy to attack. This time
he is more successful, nicking my thigh in the exact place where the Xaszian healer closed my wound,
leaving only a faint scar. He shows restraint, too, if he can be so precise.
I grimace against the sharp sting. “Because you are my brother.”
“Am I?” Lyro’s smile is so dark it puts a shadowcloak to shame. “Somehow I doubt that you hold
me in equal regard to the others. Our father certainly didn’t.”
“He kept you close.”
“He kept me as a pet,” Lyro retorts, orbiting me. “He gave you a planet.”
“I will prove it to you, then. Join me. Fight for my Alara, and I will call you a king.” I dodge his
next parry, and he faces me, disgust coloring his cheeks gray.
“I’d rather be a priest than a pet,” he grits out, and I can see his thoughts are elsewhere, with my
father, perhaps. His blades lower slightly, and I spy my chance. Like lightning, I strike him to the
earth. His knives clatter on the floor as I pin him down with my weight and the points of my weapons.
“Be quick, brother,” he urges. My arm surges forward, but I stop it before the blade in my hand
does any real damage.
“I’d rather kill you then keep you,” I hiss close to his face. “But my Alara has taught me that my
own power is nothing if those around me suffer. Help me, and you will never be a puppet of someone
else’s power. I may be emperor, but we will rule as a cranac of kings, more powerful together than
alone.”
He scoffs, and I lose my last shred of patience. “My blades beg to find their home in you, so speak
your answer. Will you join me—join us?” I correct.
“Why should I? You won’t kill me.”
“Won’t I?” I let the points of my daggers press into his skin, and blood wells around their tips,
drawing a hiss from his throat and driving his skin blue-purple with fear. For once, he cannot hide
behind our father or the High Priest. He must face me brother to brother. Male to male.
To my surprise, he presses up into my blade, deepening the cut so his blood flows more freely. It
stains his neck and shoulder as dark as any priest cloak. “You won’t, not if you want to find your little
queen. Zomah won’t let you near her. He will push her from the cliff first. But he will let me. His
little pet.” His tone is bitter, triumphant. “Her only hope now is if you let me go.”
Any control I had vanishes, and I feel my skin go wild, see it go wild by my reflection in Lyro’s
eyes. He just laughs and laughs until I want to shake him. But I know he has won. “Your life for hers.
Do you swear it under Alioth’s eye that you will keep her safe?”
I release the pressure on my blades so he can answer. A mistake. In that instant, Lyro rolls out
from under me and scrambles up from the ground.
“I will do what I can,” he says. “Stay away from the temple or she is dead.” Then he snatches up
his fallen cloak and vanishes through the front door of the palace.
Before I can run after him to extract a better promise, Fenix and Kyaal return down the cliff stairs,
breathless, weapons out and dripping with priestblood. Kyaal looks stunned when he sees me alone
on my knees.
“I thought you would defeat him,” he says wonderingly, eyeing my wounded leg and defeated
posture.
“I did.” I stand, hissing at the pain. “How did you fare at the temple?”
“Thren and Nik are keeping them busy,” he explains. “Dorel sent us to evacuate the other
terrakins. The priests locked them in the harem.”
“He does not trust my blades with matters of importance,” Fenix mutters.
“He does,” I assure him, knowing the value the terrakins hold in Ada’s heart. But I can’t keep my
eyes away from the stairs that lead up the cliff. I want nothing more than to follow where they lead,
follow my heart’s longing to join with Ada. But Lyro’s warning rings in my ears.
Stay away from the temple or she is dead.
I don’t know whether I can trust him. His warning might be a lie, a ruse to keep me away long
enough for Zomah to carry out his plans. But I could not forgive myself if I brought her harm with my
presence, either. All I can do is trust the goddess to protect my Alara while I protect what is precious
to her—the females who have become her sisters.
I turn my back on the stairs and face my two brothers. “It is not the blades that are trustworthy. It
is the king who carries them.”
Chapter 36
 Ada
can see only my own feet as I stumble, urged by priests on all sides, up the steep path to the top of
I the cliff. The winds here are stronger, whipping dust up from the grasslands. It stings my cheeks
like hot ashes when Zomah finally drops his cloak from my face.
“Where are you taking me?” I beg him over the roar of the rushing air. But he doesn’t speak. We
reach an unassuming stone building in the center of the plateau. It looks like a modest church, with a
small tower on one end of the building that casts a long shadow like the blade of a sundial. The
priests shove me through the open doorway and force me to my knees, then stand back in a wide
circle around me.
I lift my head as much as I dare to look around. This is the largest room I’ve seen on this planet,
an open space with no furniture except a long table that acts as a base for an intimidating gold
sculpture that looms in front of the window, interrupting the harsh light from outside. It casts an
ominous, eye-shaped shadow on the floor.
The table is an altar to Alioth, I realize. This must be the temple where Lothan and I were
supposed to have our joining ceremony.
Zomah makes a curt gesture toward me. “Expose her to the goddess.”
Expose me?! What does that mean?
Two priests step forward. One holds my shoulders, and the other draws a knife from a hidden
sheath. I cringe away as he inserts it inside the collar of my jumpsuit and slices it down behind me. I
flinch, expecting the fabric to fall away, but the blade catches and rebounds, flaying into the nape of
my neck instead. The pain echoes through my whole body.
“R’Hiza,” the priest holding the knife swears. “Some terrakin trickery.”
“It’s the carbonsilk,” I whisper, woozy from the feel of the blood slipping down my spine. “I got
it from the Xaszians.”
“You are a spy for the swarm queen,” I hear Zomah say, although I can’t bring myself to raise my
head to look at him. “How does she compensate you for your deception and destruction, terrakin?
What is your price for seducing a king?”
He looms over me, casting his own shadow, and flicks open the closure on the front of the
jumpsuit. Then he grips the collar with two hands and peels it down my body to the waist. He wasn’t
kidding about exposing me.
I pull my arms out of the sleeves so I can cover my chest. “I didn’t seduce Lothan. He stole me
from the Frathiks. I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t even know who he was when he took me.”
“Lies.” Zomah’s eyelids lower until they are mere slits as he looks down at me, his hands now
tucked inside his sleeves. “Tell me, why would Jara Lothan steal you when his treasure house is full
of coin?”
“I don’t know. I think he just acted impulsively. He wanted me, so he took me.”
Before Zomah can probe me further, a cloaked priest bursts into the room, and I hear the sharp
rasp of his breath as he tries to catch it.
Zomah’s ears flash briefly yellow, a color I know means surprise, before they return to the sandy
color of the temple stone.
“You thought I would lose?” the priest asks, a dark note in his tone.
“I merely thought it would take you longer.” Zomah shrugs and motions him forward. “Perhaps
you can answer the question this terrakin cannot. Why would your brother steal a pleasure slave from
the auction block?”
 I suck in a breath. This must be Lyro, Lothan’s youngest brother, the one who lives with the
priests. Did they fight? Did Lothan get hurt—or worse?
“He wouldn’t. My brother is...principled.” In the shadow of his hood, Lyro’s mouth curves, black
glitter behind his gray eyes, and I get the feeling he’s not paying Lothan a compliment. But I’m
reassured that he’s still talking about Lothan in the present tense. That means he’s probably still alive.
“Lothan prefers the fighting pits to pleasure houses. My spies in Loth’Irra claim he does not care for
concubines at all, so I doubt he’d steal one just to warm his furs.”
“That’s because I’m not a freaking concubine,” I blurt out, but I can’t keep the tremble out of my
voice. “I’m his Alara.”
I haven’t admitted it out loud before because I’ve hardly allowed myself to believe it. But hearing
it in my own voice sends the truth rocketing through me. All the pressure I’ve been feeling disappears
in an instant. There’s no decision to be made. No doubt left. We are meant to be joined, fated by the
goddess. But how can I prove it to these priests?
I give Lyro a pleading look. “Please, just go and get Lothan. Bring him here. He’ll explain
everything.”
“I find it curious that you wish him here beside you to answer such a simple question. Why is
that? Are you afraid he will answer differently if you are apart? Do you distrust him?” Zomah paces a
few steps in front of me, turning on his heel to retrace his path with the swish and snap of his cloak.
This is theater, not a conversation, I realize.
The ache of my knees against the stone floor seeps up my thighs, and I start to shake, goosebumps
prickling my skin even though it’s hot and stuffy inside the temple. “No. I—I trust him.” I love him.
Why didn’t I tell him that before? I should have, back when I had the chance. Because I’m starting to
get the feeling the priests aren’t going to let me go.
“Perhaps the Xaszian queen shared her ability to influence males with you. Perhaps you wish to
control the Jara the way she controls her swarm.” A murmur from the priests who line the walls lets
me know this is something they fear, even though I don’t understand what it means.
“What are you talking about?” My teeth chatter involuntarily, and I clench my jaw to stop the
noise from echoing in the empty space.
“Little soft terrakin, so innocent. So ignorant,” Zomah croons. He whirls on Lyro. “Turn the Eye
on her, and we will see what happens to her ignorance. Let Alioth illuminate her understanding.”
Lyro’s eyes flick to me. A barely noticeable moment of hesitation, doubt creasing his handsome
brow, so like Lothan’s. But then he trots along to the altar and reaches to adjust the giant eye
sculpture. A focused beam of sunlight falls on the floor of the temple. The sculpture is a lens, I
realize. Through it, the sunlight is intensified enough to make the thin layer of dust on the stones
blacken in a tight circle, sending up a wisp of acrid smoke.
Lyro swings it toward me, and I watch the beam approach, frozen in place as it carves a dark path
toward me. Before I can blink, Zomah grabs my hair and forces my head down until my nose is
pressed to the floor.
Dust hits the back of my throat as I suck in a sharp breath, and a cough wracks my body. Instantly,
many hands press all four of my limbs to the floor, although when I turn my head as much as the
twinge of pain in my neck will allow, I see the priests holding me down are leaning away from me,
keeping a wary eye on the slice of light.
They’re afraid of it. Which means I should be, too. This is a witch hunt, and these priests are
going to burn me no matter what I say! If I agree with Zomah, I’m guilty of treason. And if I argue with
him, I’m a liar and pretender.
 “Now tell me, are you a tool of the Xaszian queen?” Zomah demands.
The light is so close to me I can feel it singeing the hairs on my arm. Tears well in my eyes and
then spill over, dripping down my nose to dampen the dust. “No, I already told you I’m not.”
Zomah rattles a laugh, a sound that is not at all comforting. “Then may Alioth smile on you.”
“Her teeth are sharp,” all the priests chorus, their voices circling me like a tightening noose.
Conscious of the smoking heat near my elbow, I shudder and brace myself for the burn. But it
doesn’t come. I risk raising my head a little and see Lyro staring back at me, his hands holding the eye
steady.
“You hesitate, son of Chanísh?” Zomah seems to have forgotten all about me and instead stalks
toward the altar. I can see it takes every ounce of Lyro’s willpower not to back away from him.
Zomah drops his voice into a growl. “Perhaps the terrakin female influences you as well.”
Shadow skitters over Lyro’s skin, and he flashes a jagged smile at me. And then a blinding burn
sears across my forearm. I see blackness, then stars. A scream pierces my consciousness, pierces my
ear drums, and only then do I realize it’s coming from my own lungs.
Zomah thunders over the noise, a dark cloud on the edge of my consciousness. “Tell me true. Are
you a Xaszian spy?”
My lips can barely form words, but I force them to stutter out, “Yes—yes. I am.”
And the burning stops.
Lyro has swung the light away from me, but he won’t look at me. He only has eyes for the High
Priest.
“Then Alioth decrees your sentence is death.” Zomah’s smug voice bounces around the room, and
the priests slap their hands against the walls in some weird form of applause. The patter of their hard
hands against the stones sounds like thunder, the echo of my lightning-bright pain. My wounds and the
noise become one overwhelming storm. Will it ever stop?
“Enough.” Zomah’s voice booms again, and the temple goes eerily silent. “Lyro, you’ve proven
your devotion to the goddess. Now you must carry out her will.”
Before I know what’s happening, Lothan’s brother drags me to my feet, pushing me ahead of him,
past a hissing row of priests and down a dark stairwell. This is it, I realize. This is my end—and
Lena’s end, too. Lyro will kill me, Lothan will be forced into the priesthood, and as High Priest,
Zomah will rule the Five Planets.
No one will look for Lena. No one will rescue her.
I stumble on the spiraling stairs and fall into Lyro, desperately grabbing a handful of his cloak to
stay upright. He pushes me away with a growl of annoyance.
“Please, you don’t have to do this,” I beg him. “I’ll leave Irra, I promise. The Xaszians already
agreed to take us terrakins back to our planet. Just let me live so I can find my sister. Nobody has to
—”
In the pitch black, a hand closes around my neck, squeezing until my air is cut off and no more
sound comes out.
“Silence.” The voice sends a ripple of fear over me, raising goosebumps. Why did I hope for any
compassion from him? He let the priests drag me away from Lothan. He’s the one who burned me.
And he’s the one assigned to be my executioner.
He releases me, and I rub my throat, coughing as I struggle to replace the oxygen.
“Can you move faster?” he asks in a low voice. “We must, if you want to live, so do not lie to me.
I will carry you if need be.”
“Don’t touch me,” I croak, glaring into the dark where I guess his face might be.
 “R’Hiza take you, then,” he snaps. His breath in the dark smells like smoke, and my stomach
twists, remembering the burn. “Lothan can carry your corpse himself.”
“He sent you?”
“My brother does not command me.”
I swallow. “Who does, then?”
Silence. Then, a soft breath. “Alioth.”
Bitterness curls my tongue. “Right. The goddess who burned the shit out of me with her so-called
smile. Does that mean you’re going to execute the Xaszian spy, now that the Eye has seen the truth or
whatever? Hurry up and get it over with, then.”
“Can you walk?” His tone is more urgent this time and has lost some of its arrogance.
“I—I think so.”
“We must be swift and silent if you wish to make it to Lothan alive.”
He’s not going to kill me. Surprise bursts in my chest, stealing my breath. Something rough wraps
around me, scraping painfully against the raw skin.
“Put up the hood and follow me as closely as you are able.”
It must be his cloak. I pull it closer around me and raise the hood. “So you’re taking me to where
—?” I start to ask, but a growl very close to my ear cuts me off.
“I said silent. Are all terrakins this stupid, or is it just you?”
“Just me, the one trusting the asshole who helped kidnap and torture her.”
To my surprise, he doesn’t backhand me but gives a low chuckle. “Her teeth are sharp.”
I don’t know whether he means me or his goddess, and I don’t care. “Let’s go, motherfucker.”
We emerge from the stairwell into a dimly lit passageway that is quiet except for the distant
sounds of fighting. I follow Lyro through a twisting series of turns, hopelessly lost in the warren of
tunnels. At each juncture, he goes ahead to make sure we won’t be seen before we hurry to the next
one. The ever-present sounds of fighting are distant, thankfully. Wherever we are, we seem to be
alone.
“Where are we going?” I ask at the fifth or sixth turn, my voice ragged with the effort of moving at
this pace. The winding passages feel as disorienting as the zero gravity in the escape pod, and I have
no sense of where I am.
“Out,” is Lyro’s terse reply. Great. Super helpful.
I try again, whispering, “Where are we? Are we in the palace?”
“Under,” he grunts. He lengthens his stride and veers into a tunnel that slopes upward. I catch
glimpses of sky through the tiny windows set high in the walls. We’re somewhere in the cliffs still, I
think.
“Why are you helping me?”
“I’m not.” He stops so short that I crash into the back of him. Abruptly, he sweeps his arm out and
slams me into the wall, knocking the breath out of me and sending a spiraling vine of pain up my
ruined arm.
I start to protest, but he claps his hand over my mouth and points to the corner ahead, his eyes
wide. A warning. Then I hear it—two voices growing louder. Someone’s coming, and we’re in a
narrow section where there’s no place to hide. If they turn left when they reach the juncture in front of
us, they will see us. If they turn right, they won’t.
If we’re lucky, anyway. If we’re quiet.
I do my best to slow my ragged breathing, and Lyro nods to me, approving, letting his hand drop
when he has faith that I’ll keep my mouth shut.
 A moment later, the black hoods of two priests appear, and our luck runs out when they turn left
and spot us. “Hey,” one of them shouts, darting toward us with a knife out.
“Put your head down,” Lyro hisses. I tug the cloak’s hood lower on my forehead and train my eyes
on the floor, suddenly conscious that I’m completely naked under the black cloth. I guess these guys
are, too, which makes it even weirder, like we’re all wearing towels in the gym locker room or
something.
“Have you seen the terrakins?” one of them asks gruffly. I can hardly breathe. I hope Jaya and
Delphie and the others are safe, wherever they are.
Lyro jerks his head back the way we’ve come. “They’re under guard in the harem.”
“Zomah says to execute them,” the other one says, something like anticipation in his voice.
“Alioth demands it.”
“Is that so?” Lyro asks. “If the goddess demands it, then where is the high priest?” His flat tone
indicates that the question is rhetorical, but I know it’s anything but. If Zomah is headed our way, then
we need to be aware.
The first priest snorts. “He has more important things to do than cleaning up after your brother’s
filthy little pets. I’ll enjoy seeing that pompous Jara washing the floors of the Eye on his knees. Let
him wipe up the dirt he’s tracked in.”
His companion chortles. “Let us dirty some floors ourselves, first. If we don’t hurry, we will miss
out on the fun.” He elbows me. “What do you say? Are your blades thirsty?”
I shake my head, aware that if I speak, they’ll immediately know I’m neither Irran nor a priest. But
something about my gesture doesn’t translate, either, because they both back away from me.
“Frix,” Lyro curses, and draws his knives.
I try to get out of his way. He whirls and slashes at the two priests, alternating between them as
they defend against his onslaught of blades. But, whether because they were taken by surprise or
because he has more skill, it only takes a few seconds until they’re disarmed and on the floor, gushing
dark red blood from their necks, and I can tell that not even a Xaszian healing wand can fix them.
The light in their eyes flickers out, and Lyro pulls their hoods over their faces.
“Come.” He motions to me, still frozen against the wall and staring at the dead bodies of the two
priests he’s just slaughtered.
I can’t believe he just killed for me. He grips the edge of my hood and tugs me forward. I pick my
way around the pools of thickening liquid, stepping over the second priest’s legs as I follow Lyro
away from them. I feel...numb. Like I should be upset, but I’m not.
“How did they know?” I ask, when my voice returns to my throat. “What did I do wrong?”
Lyro looks back over his shoulder at me, his mouth twisted. “A warrior’s blade is always
thirsty,” he says, an edge to his voice. And somehow, I know he’s talking about himself.
We make the next few turns in silence. The sounds of fighting are farther and farther away, to my
relief. One final door, and we exit into the unforgiving sunlight. The heat hits me like a brick wall.
And then voices. Footsteps running toward us.
My eyes adjust, and I see the worried faces of my friends. Hannah, Delphie and the others rescued
from the Frathik ship. They’re safe.
The walled garden where Lothan first brought me comes into focus behind them, and Lothan
comes into focus. He paces back and forth, his skin dark and his face blank, until he sees me, and then
he’s a rainbow with teeth, running toward us.
We made it out. My shaking legs buckle, and I collapse where I stand.
Chapter 37
 Lothan
ny relief I feel at seeing Ada alive is immediately shadowed in rage when, consumed by the
A shadow of a priest’s cloak, she crumples like a broken bird beside Lyro. He doesn’t even
flinch when she falls to the ground.
When I reach her, I shove him away and tear the R’Hiza-damned garment from her body, as
though that will remove the stain of those traitors. She’s injured, I realize. Badly. A sickeningly dark
wound on her arm weeps clear fluid, and the ends of her beautiful, star-bright hair are matted with
blood. I lift it away and see a deep cut along her spine, its edges pulling away to show that it cleaves
into muscle and tendon.
“What have you done to her?” I snarl. She fills my arms, or I’d draw my blades and end him. If I
could kill Lyro with a look, I would. “If you did this, I will feed your bones to the saidals.”
“No words of gratitude?” His lips stretch thin over his teeth in amusement.
“For what?” Without waiting for his answer, I lift Ada, which requires no more effort than
moving a wicker chair, and muscle through the traxilla-flock of concerned terrakins that Kyaal is
attempting to herd.
Lyro tags on my heels to the pool in the center of the garden. He doesn’t fear death, it seems. But
he should because the need for revenge is singing in my blades.
“Get Joorn,” I direct Fenix, who hovers behind Lyro. He nods and darts off to find the healer, and
I submerge Ada’s body gently into the pool until the water covers every part of her except her face.
Her hair floats in swirling patterns like grass in the wind, a cloud of blushing pink around it as her
blood dissolves and is washed away. I hope it dilutes her pain, too.
Lyro prattles from the edge of the pool. “For sparing her worse torture. For keeping her safe. For
defending her against Zomah’s pet priests.”
I scoff. As though I believe the lies he launches from his lips.
“It’s true,” Ada whispers, lifting her lids long enough to meet my eyes, her body going rigid in my
arms. “He was supposed to kill me, and he didn’t. He saved me. He protected me. He killed two
priests on our way out.”
Lyro hovers over me where I kneel in the water, supporting Ada’s body. Like he’s waiting for
something. What? A reward for only torturing her somewhat, by his own admission? For killing his
comrades?
I would almost respect him more if he had remained loyal to his precious leader to the end. Then,
at least, I could return the favor without reservation and give him the death our father would have
wanted for him.
But I must allow him his dishonorable life. As much as I wish I could kill him, he fulfilled the
agreement we made. His life for hers. And I’m sure he’ll give me some other opportunity to
extinguish his light in the future.
“Get out of my sight.” I turn away from him and raise Ada out of the water slightly to check her
back. I’m gratified to see the deep slice has shallowed. She is healing. Slower than I would like, but
healing. I trace Ada’s jawline, and a tiny smile quirks her lips. Her hand floats out to press against my
chest, and my heart speeds up in response.
In that moment, I realize that if I had lost her to Lyro’s honor, it would have stopped. Her loss
would have ended me. Ended everything. It was only his betrayal of the priests that saved us both. I
owe him gratitude for that, at least.
BEFORE I CAN TELL HIM, I’m interrupted by Joorn’s arrival. He brings with him his bag of
healing tricks and a wooden box that he sets on the edge of the pool, and he only hesitates an instant
before stripping off his heavy green healer’s robes and entering the water with us.
I let him examine her with his methodical gaze, turning her as he directs, and she smiles up at both
of us. “I think I’m starting to feel a little better.”
“There is still much healing to be done,” Joorn murmurs when he sees the extent of her wounds.
“Is Ada going to be okay?” Delphie asks on behalf of the group of terrakins, who’ve migrated to
the edge of the pool and cluster there like tender spikes of grass, worry shedding from them like
pollen as they bend over us.
“Assuredly. And I believe this will help most of all.” He lifts the intricately carved wooden box.
The Alara’s crown, I realize. Joorn must have retrieved it from my chambers. He opens the box and
offers the gold circlet to me. “True healing comes from the goddess. Join with her now, so she can
receive Alioth’s favor. If I’m right, it will speed her recovery.”
I take the crown in my free hand, unsure of the next step. I haven’t had time to look through the
histories that Samorik sent from the Eye, so I don’t know the words of the joining ceremony. “What
should I say?”
“In the archives, the ancestors wrote that the joining was often something done in private,” Joorn
says. “There’s no need for an official script. Speak what’s in your heart, place the crown on her head,
and let Alioth do the rest.”
I draw in a deep breath to steady my voice. My heart is so full I can hardly translate what it
contains into words. I lower my lips to her ear. “Tell me again that this is what you wish, Ada. Tell
me you are my Alara. Tell me you will walk beside me until our ghosts meet the goddess.”
Her eyes, fringed by her pale gold lashes, meet mine, and in them, I see the soul of the Five
Planets. The ice of Usuri that hides riches underneath. The sparkling sands of Alak, reflecting the
goddess’s favor. The wide, sweet oceans of Olethia and the depths of Endan’s fertile forests. Most of
all, I see the faultless skies of Irra in her milky blue gaze—my home.
She smiles, and there is pain in it. Why does this hurt her when it is salve to every wound I’ve
ever suffered? The harsh words of my father have been overwritten. The betrayal of my brothers
nearly forgotten. Even the wounds I’ve given myself, the needless guilt I’ve subjected myself to, the
fights I’ve fought just to feel something. All are erased when I am with her, as though they never
existed.
“I don’t know if it is fate or just luck that brings us together, Lothan,” she says. She brings a hand
to my lips to stop my protest that it was the goddess herself, no mere coincidence. “But I know that
nothing will keep us apart. Not now or ever. No matter how much time I spend with you, I want
more.”
She smiles on the last word, knowing what it does to me.
“More,” I agree hoarsely in her language, sending a wave of approving murmurs through the
terrakins who’ve gathered with my brothers around the edge of the pool. I settle the gold circlet on
her forehead, feeling her tense in anticipation as it slides home.
Her back arches suddenly, her breath hissing out as the crown begins to glow, faintly at first, and
then brighter and brighter until it’s as blinding as the star. I have to force myself not to look away, to
witness her joining with the star. Then, just as quickly, it’s gone. I blink, dark spots in my vision, the
shadow of Alioth’s favor.
 When I can see again, Ada is smiling up at me with tears leaking from her eyes.
“That hurt,” she chokes out, touching the crown. It looks different—it’s part of her now,
somehow, glistening from within her skin where it crosses her forehead. “You told me her teeth are
sharp, and now I understand.”
“Do you regret it?” I trace the mesmerizing gold tattoo with a finger, and she shudders with
pleasure, her eyes falling closed at my touch.
“Never. I love you.”
“My queen. My love,” I murmur, letting my kisses fall like rain, like she is the ground that thirsts
for me, and I am unable to resist her gravity. I’ve never been so grateful to forfeit and taste the earth.
“My Alara.”
My home.
Chapter 38
 Ada
o matter how many times I’ve played princess—wearing plastic crowns during tea parties with
N Lena when we were little, winning the Kootenai County Potato Princess pageant, reigning as
royalty over countless little kids’ birthday parties—I never expected I’d become an actual queen of
anything.
And I certainly never thought I’d be naked while I was doing it.
But here I am, splashing in the nude in a freaking fountain with a crown literally welded into the
skin of my forehead and the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen looking down at me with lavender skin
so bright it’s almost neon, blaring for all the universe to see that he loves me.
Me.
It’s just so much.
Welcome home, a lilting golden voice inside my head sings. And there’s no doubt about it this
time. I feel the goddess in my bones. My home, my purpose, settles into me, becomes part of me like
the crown became part of my skin.
This is where I’m supposed to be: this planet, galaxies away from where I was born. This crown
wasn’t something I could refuse. It was always part of me. I only had to admit it to myself.
At the edge of the water, Lyro clears his throat, interrupting my thoughts. He kneels down beside
the pool, his head bent as he rubs a handful of dust on his face. It’s a gesture of defeat, and I’m
flooded with gratitude for his sacrifice. He lost his whole life when he defied Zomah’s orders and
rescued me instead. I reach out toward him. “Thank you, Lyro.”
Lyro’s fingertips brush mine, and I feel Lothan stiffen. “You have a death wish, brother? My
mercy has its limits. Go,” he grits out.
“Please. Forgive me,” Lyro begs. “For my disbelief. What Alioth wills, I accept. She is your
Alara, and I cannot deny it now that I’ve witnessed your joining. You are the rightful Emperor of the
Five Planets. I beg your—”
“My what?” Lothan spits at him. “I have nothing left to give you. You have my gratitude for
sparing Ada’s life when you could have taken it. I have given you all the mercy I can muster, the
remainder of which is quickly eroding as I look at your frixing face and remember the pain you’ve
caused her. You can leave with your life. That is your reward.”
Lyro turns to leave, but there’s so much hurt in his eyes at Lothan’s rejection that I can’t stand to
see him walk away. He wants to be part of our family. And Lothan might not know it now, but he’ll
regret it if he lets his brother go like this. “Wait. My sister, Lena. If you bring her back to me, you can
have anything you want.”
Lyro freezes and turns slowly back toward us. “Anything, Empress?”
I nod. “Anything I can give you.”
Lothan practically snarls at him. “Do not negotiate with her when she is weakened by your hand,
dirtmouth.”
Lyro ignores him and turns to meet my eyes. “I swear under Alioth’s light, if she is alive, I will
return her to you. Then I will collect my reward.” He is gone, his cloak swirling like dark smoke in
his wake.
“He ruins what he touches,” Lothan says, his body restless under mine as we float in the pool. “I
fear what he will ask of you. I don’t trust him.”
I pull Lothan’s arms around me with a contented sigh and stroke my hand over every part of him
that I can reach, trying to soothe his agitation. “I believe him. He’ll find her. You don’t have to trust
him—just trust me. And if you don’t trust me, trust Alioth. She will watch over Lena like she watched
over us.”
Any sadness I feel about my sister’s absence is overwhelmed by hope. I heard it in Lyro’s voice
and saw it in his eyes, in the way he fought for me against those priests, with total focus and ferocity.
He can do this. He might be the only one who can.
And if he does find her—when he does—I will go to bat for him so hard. Whatever terrible things
he’s done in the past are irrelevant if he can bring Lena home to me safely.
A rise in the voices of my friends makes me glance up, and I see Hannah with her hand clapped
over her mouth as she stares me.
“Oh my god, Ada!” she squeaks.
I giggle at her horrified tone and make a lazy effort to cover my nakedness with my hands. “I
know, I know. Don’t look if you don’t want to see it.”
“I want to see it,” Lothan murmurs close to my ear. His words slide through me, igniting every
cell as he runs a hand down the curve of my waist under the shimmering surface of the pool, making
me squirm and clamp my thighs together against the tide of heat that washes through me despite the
cool water. I don’t even care that people are looking.
Hannah blurts, “No, your skin! It was greenish and now it’s...purple!”
I look down, and it’s true. My whole body is flushed the same color at Lothan’s—lavender fading
to pink at the edges. It doesn’t even seem weird. The same way Lothan always makes me feel safe and
perfect, like his arms are where I’m supposed to be, now I’m the color I’m supposed to be, too—like
my old skin was just a shadowcloak that has been torn away.
“Does this mean my feelings change my skin now, like yours do?” I ask Lothan. Something wicked
sparks in me, and in spite of the stares of everyone watching, I slide my hands down his chest and
under the water until I find his cock trapped between us, half-hard.
When I brush my fingertips against it, it stiffens in a single pulse. I allow my desire for him to rush
through me as I grasp his length, wrapping my hand around him, enjoying the excitement and
anticipation as I imagine his hardness sliding between my thighs, our skins a mirror for our mutual
passion. I release him, and he groans, sending a giggle through my friends, most of whom turn away to
give us some privacy.
When I raise my hand out of the water, I’m delighted to see my fingers are bright red now, colored
by my desire. I hold my hand in front of his face, turning it so he can admire the intense hue. “Look!”
“I can’t wait to learn all your colors, Alara,” he says, a heated promise in his voice. His fingers
lightly circle the dark burn that mars my arm where the red bleeds into lavender. The wound is
smaller now but still ugly. “Until this is gone, all I can see is your pain. Rest and heal in the water.
We have all of time for more.”
He’s right. I let my arm settle back beneath the pool’s surface, and for the first time since my
abduction from Earth, I can fully relax.
The next stretch of time is chaotic, but I’m so blissed out that I hardly pay attention. Joorn
perodically treats my wounds, my friends are fuss over me from the perimeter of the healing pool,
Lothan bosses his other brothers around, assigning them tasks, and I can’t tell exactly what’s going on.
I let the noise and attention swirl around me as I soak up the warmth of the gathering. It feels like a
party—the best kind of party, where everyone’s genuinely happy to be there.
This is what the Irrans have missed, with their self-sufficient culture and fear of cranacs, this
glorious energy of friends and family coming together to celebrate. That’s something that’s going to
shift, now that I’ve made peace with Alioth. There will be many more gatherings like this one on Irra,
if I have anything to say about it. And hopefully someday, Lena will be able to attend them with me.
There’s someone missing besides my sister, though. And he walks up now, holding Mooni’s hand.
“Are you going to live, Ada?” Biinji asks, his furrowed brow and tight mouth giving him the look
of a weathered warrior instead of a little boy as he frowns down at me in the pool. I hate that he’s lost
a little more innocence because of me.
Guilt casts a brief shadow over the garden. If I’d just stopped for two seconds to think, I never
would have left him. It was only luck—if bloodshed, brotherhood, and the interference of a goddess
can be called luck—that made up for my mistake. I owe the universe, big time.
I swish my arms like wings in the water to demonstrate my very-much-aliveness. “Yes. For a long
time, I hope. You and I will have many adventures together, don’t worry. As many as you want.”
He hesitantly returns my smile. “Good. I missed you”—his lower lip wobbles, and his warrior
façade begins to crumble—“a lot. You didn’t say goodbye.”
Oh, my heart.
“I didn’t say goodbye because I didn’t mean to go. I shouldn’t have left. I swear to Alioth, we’ll
never be apart again, not until you’re a big strong warrior and have children of your own.” I watch as
my arms turn pale blue with happiness at the thought of watching him grow up. He’s my child already,
the prince of my heart, whether he knows it or not. And I hope someday I’ll earn his trust again.
Warmth shines from Mooni’s brown eyes as she takes in my newly colorful skin. “You are truly
one of us, now!”
She’s thoughtfully brought me a towel and folded sveli, although I seem to have lost any
inhibitions about being naked since Alioth branded this crown on my forehead. Part of being truly
Irran, I guess. She leans down to place the clean clothes and towels at the edge of the pool and stands
back, still holding Biinji’s hand.
It’s a simple gesture, but my heart swells with overwhelming gratitude. “Thank you, Mooni. For
taking care of Biinji while I was gone and keeping him safe. For welcoming me to Loth’Irra in the
most generous possible way. You and Dorel are so special to me that I don’t quite know how to
express it.”
“I can see it on your skin, Alara. Consider us your family, since you don’t have yours here,” she
says kindly. Dorel appears suddenly beside her, swooping in for a kiss, and deep brown contentment
flushes her features as she turns her face to him. “You’re back, my love.”
Beside me, Lothan smiles at their sweet reunion and pulls me closer so he can tug on my earlobe
with the points of his teeth, sending colors racing over my skin. Deep brown contentment, joyful blue,
or more pink and lavender and red? Maybe in time I’ll learn to keep my feelings under my skin, but
for now, I don’t care if everyone can see my rainbow of emotions.
Biinji grimaces as he plays with the hilt of the dagger attached to his hip and tries to avoid
looking at us. “Ugh. Why are you kissing when you could be fighting?”
Lothan peals with laughter. “I felt the same when I was your age, but someday you’ll understand,
greenling. There is time for fighting and there’s time for other things.” His eyes briefly caress my
curves that float just under the reflective surface of the pool before flicking back to Biinji’s skeptical
face. “We will train tomorrow, I promise.”
Biinji hesitates a moment. I know it’s not easy for him to trust any promises after what he’s been
through. So many people have let him down. But we won’t. I won’t—not again. Not now that I have a
second chance. He seems to realize it, and his forehead smooths. He looks like a child again, not a
hardened warrior, and he allows Mooni to lead him away with the promise of sweetgrass jelly.
Dorel kneels at the edge of the pool with his comm device. “I just received word from the
spaceport. Zomah and his shadowcloaks have left for the Eye,” he says, his face growing serious as
he motions for Lothan’s brothers to join us. I recognize Nik’s scarred face and square shoulders from
the screen in the escape pod but not the others. Lothan murmurs a quick introduction. Thren is the big
swaggering one, Fenix has the playful smile and relaxed posture, and Kyaal is the smallest, with a
lithe intensity to his movements that reminds me of a snake.
“We drove them out like squealing kviklings. Killed half of them at least. The stairs to the temple
are littered with their bodies,” Thren brags, but his pitch-dark skin belies his confident tone.
I sense he’s leaving something out, but I probably don’t want to know what. I shudder
involuntarily, glad to be out here in the garden where I can’t see evidence of the brutal fight. Lothan’s
arms flex against my back and legs where he supports me in the water, pulling me against his body.
Safe.
“But?” he presses his brother. “I feel a shadow falling over our victory.”
Thren grimaces. “Before I left Endan, the head priest there relayed a threat. If you became
emperor, the Eye would declare war. If I know Zomah, he will continue to claim that Ada is a
pretender. He may target the terrakins to retaliate against her.”
Lothan’s arms tighten around me. “Have the dead priests put on a bierbird and sent to meet the
star,” he directs Dorel. Thren growls in disapproval, but Lothan holds up a hand to quiet him. “They
raised blades against us thinking it was Alioth’s will. They deserve to meet the goddess, if she allows
it.”
Dorel nods, noting this on the screen of his small tablet. “I just commed the swarm ambassador,
and he agrees to take the terrakins now, for their safety, and keep them on Alak while they build their
tower. The ambassador assures me it won’t take long, only a few weeks. Kyaal can see to the
terrakins’ happiness until the hive departs for their star system. It will be more difficult for the Eye if
the Xaszian queen stands between them and their goal.”
Lothan grunts his approval, but Kyaal stretches his mouth thin. “I can’t promise they’ll be happy.
Alak is not a gentle place, and these terrakins seem...fragile.”
“We’re stronger than you think,” I say, looking past him to where Jaya is staring at his back with
the intensity of a superhero with laser vision. He’s in for a big surprise.
Doubt still clouds his face as he follows my gaze, glancing behind him at the group of women who
have moved closer to eavesdrop on the conversation. Jaya doesn’t look away when he meets her
eyes, and Kyaal’s skin darkens a shade, just for a moment, as she scowls at him.
Lothan squeezes my hand under the water. “The terrakins will impress you, brother. They may be
soft on the outside, but their spines are strong. Anyway, they will be on the Xaszian ship and have
every comfort the swarm queen can afford them during their time on Alak. You only need hold the
Xaszians to their promises.”
Kyaal nods once, like the stroke of a judge’s gavel. “Then we go. Better to get it over with. Come,
terrakins.”
It’s time to say goodbye. I shrug off Lothan’s arms and concern in one motion, feeling suddenly
naked without his arms around me, and grab the towel to cover myself. Fenix helps me out of the
water, ignoring Lothan’s low hiss of protest and flashing a mischievous grin at me.
I towel off quickly, then wrap the fresh sveli around me. My back barely stings and my arm—
well, it will take a lot more time under the water to heal completely, but it can wait until I say
goodbye to my friends. My sisters. A lump rises in my throat at the thought of parting from them so
soon.
Jaya yelps and dashes to hug me, jostling Kyaal out of the way. He hisses at her touch, freezing in
place. He stares at the spot on his arm where his skin brushed against hers, his lip curled with disgust.
He really is not a fan of terrakins.
I wrap my arms around her and squeeze. “I hope you find happiness back on Earth, Jaya. You
deserve it. I couldn’t have made it through this ordeal without you.”
I feel the tremor in her hands as she answers. “I don’t know about that. You’re stronger than you
look. But thanks anyway, and good luck with your arrogant king. I don’t think I could stand it, but I’m
happy for you.”
Kyaal, who’s close enough to overhear, narrows his dark eyes at her back. Oh, she’s in for it. I
giggle. “They’re not so bad once you get used to them.”
Her mouth turns up at the corner, and she drops a sisterly kiss on my cheek before hurrying to join
the rest of the women. Kyaal stalks after her, as though he’s her personal escort and not the guardian
of the whole group.
Lothan and I share a private look as he rises out of the pool—there is something between those
two, even if neither seems willing to admit it. Whether those sparks ignite a fire that kills them or
connects them, I can’t say, but I have a feeling the journey to Alak will be interesting, to say the least.
One by one, I hug the rest of my friends goodbye. “I’ll come visit before you leave for Earth,” I
promise Delphie, who hangs back from the group, her eyes wide and worried as she watches the
women follow Kyaal out of the garden through the secret door.
“What about Lena and Bree and Tamira?” she asks. Their names hit me like comets, one after the
another, leaving craters on my heart. “They’re still out there, Ada.”
I squeeze her hand. “I promise, we won’t stop looking for them.”
“I will find them and bring them to you,” Lothan adds, cementing the vow by dropping a kiss on
top of my head. “I swear it.”
Delphie squeezes back and then lets go. She hurries to join the other women as they file out with
Dorel and Kyaal, taking part of my heart with them. When the vines fall back to cover the hidden
door, Lothan nods to his remaining brothers, Nik, Thren, and Fenix.
“Scour your planets for the missing terrakins. We can’t rest until they’re found.”
“Please,” I add to soften his brusque command. “Look everywhere.”
Nik immediately nods, but the other two still look skeptical.
Fenix tilts his head, weighing the decision. Then he flashes the points of his teeth with obvious
delight. “I’ll search every pleasure house on Olethia from top to bottom.”
Thren rumbles a laugh. “Might as well, since you’ll be there anyway.”
“True.” A wide grin spreads over Fenix’s face. “I think I’m going to enjoy being ruled by you,
Emperor.”
“And if we don’t enjoy it?” Thren’s voice has a hard edge, and his skin, already as dark as I
thought possible, turns even darker. “You command us like your warriors, not like Jaras.”
“And you complain like a priest,” Lothan shoots back. “I am not Chanísh. I have no interest in
your subservience. But I am the emperor now, you haunch of kvik. So you’d better find the terrakins if
you want to sit at my table in a cranac of kings.”
To my surprise, Thren barks a laugh and leaves the garden with Nik and Fenix, trading insults.
Lothan wraps his arms around my waist, and I lean against him, enjoying the feel of his body pressed
against mine as we watch them go.
Quiet fills my ears like healing water. We’re alone in the center of the garden now. Mooni and
Dorel have taken Biinji away to fuss over him and feed him and teach him more fighting moves, no
doubt. The warriors who’ve been cleaning up after the battle with the priests have finished their
tasks, and all my friends have left, each on their own path toward home.
“What now?” I ask Lothan.
As if in answer, he tugs the knot on my sash, and my sveli falls open. He pushes it off my
shoulders, caressing them and then following his fingers with his mouth, kissing his way up my neck
to my lips as my clothes fall to the ground.
“I just put that on,” I breathe against his mouth. I can feel his heartbeat purr through the thin skin of
his lips.
“It pleases me to see you, Alara. All of you.” He nips at me, his fingertips brushing over my
breasts and finding their sensitive undersides, and his voice is husky as it lowers a few notes to add,
“Don’t you wish to please me?”
The deep rumble of his voice shakes something loose in me. Something wild and primal curls my
belly. Something hungry. Something hot.
I don’t have words for how much I want to please him, so I curl my leg around his and let him feel
it in the press of my hips against his, let him see it all over my skin out here in the bright, sunlit
garden. He sucks in a breath and lifts me in one smooth motion, carrying me to the waterfall that
trickles down the cliff to fill the pool and nourish the flowers that nod their approval all around us.
He pushes my back up against the rocks worn smooth by the falling water, and I don’t feel even a
twinge of pain where I was injured by the priest’s knife. I wind my arms around his neck, but he
shakes his head.
“Not allowed to use these today,” he says, his voice low and gentle as he plucks both wrists into
one hand and pins them above my head against the rocks. “Will you be a good little queen and keep
them here in the water so they can heal while I take you?”
Already, the head of his cock nudges at my entrance, promising more.
“Yes,” I pant. At this point, I’ll do anything he asks. I can’t wait any longer.
I keep my hands above my head in the soothing flow of water and wrap my legs around his waist,
desperately grinding against the delicious pressure, everything made more slick by the cool liquid that
cascades over us both. With an urgent groan, he slides into me, pinning me to the wet rocks with his
full weight, burying his length inside me and his face in the curve of my shoulder in one motion.
He licks his way up my jaw to my mouth, using his tongue and teeth to nip and suck and tease until
my lips are swollen and tender. I can’t get enough of his taste, bright and electric, and I whine when
he moves away, diving hungrily down my neck. But I can’t complain when he settles his teeth in their
favorite spot, biting me just hard enough to sting.
It’s like the scar there remembers, flips a switch in my body, making every cell a beacon that
beams pleasure to my core. My nipples tighten painfully, begging to be touched, and he obliges,
sliding his huge hands to cup and squeeze and pinch my breasts until I moan.
It’s everything I can do to keep from grabbing his head to keep him there, torturing me. It’s so
much and still not enough. Goddess, I want more.
At the thought, I feel a stripe ignite across my forehead, an exquisite, pleasurable burn that feels
nothing like the one on my arm. Wave after wave of heat move over my face and scalp, down my
breasts and back and belly to my aching clit. Even the trickle of water splashing over us doesn’t
extinguish it. My new crown has some extra benefits, it seems, and I’m so not sorry about it.
It’s excruciating, exhilarating, everything, being pinned between the hard stone of the cliff and the
hard planes of Lothan’s body and the hard points of his teeth, and he hasn’t even moved beyond his
first thrust yet.
“More,” I beg aloud, arching against him, and he groans against my neck, his whole body going
rigid. I can feel his cock pulsing into me, a heartbeat of need.
His words come in pants. “Can’t move. It will take me over the edge, Alara.”
“Good. Take me with you.”
And finally, thank Alioth, he does.
Epilogue
 Lothan
iinji lunges for me, and the point of his dagger nicks my ribs. He’s fast, and he’s learned even
B faster that his advantage is his short stature and nimble feet. My chest swells with pride as I
feel the tiny trickle of blood flow down my side. My son is a warrior already.
“You have done well,” I say, sheathing my knives, and his forehead flashes bright blue before he
settles his skin back to sandy beige. I don’t reprimand him for the lapse as my father would have
done. He should be proud and happy at his progress.
“More,” he commands me, dropping back down to a fighting stance, but I shake my head,
chuckling.
“You are as greedy as your mother,” I chide him.
“She always gets what she wants, so why shouldn’t I?” He’s unable to hide his mischievous grin.
I notice the points of new teeth are growing into the spaces where his milk teeth are missing. Part of
me rejoices to see his growth, but why does this also make me a little sad? I will have to ask Ada
about it. Maybe this is something she feels as well.
“Because I fear her displeasure more than I fear your blades,” I say wryly. “It is time to eat the
evening meal.”
Biinji grumbles, but he sheaths his daggers and accompanies me out of the pits. We stop only
briefly to visit Joorn for healing and then make our way through the palace toward the throne room. A
large, round table waits for us there, my lonely blackstone throne relegated to the corner. When my
brothers visit Irra again, I hope we will sit around the table and share in the rule of the Five Planets,
but for now, it serves as a place to eat as a family.
It’s strange, but I’ve come to enjoy this human custom of gathering together to share food. We
share other things across the table, too—our troubles and fears, our comforts and amusements. Eating
a meal no longer feels right without trading stories and laughter with the ones I love the most. Dorel
and Mooni often join us as well, but tonight it will be just the three of us.
The scent of stewed traxilla reaches my nostrils as we enter the room, and I hear Biinji’s excited
noises when he sees the food laid out on the table. But I only have eyes for my beautiful queen. The
goddess’s light blazes through the window behind Ada, making her hair glow like a star and outlining
her luscious curves with a generous hand.
“You’re late,” she says, pulling a face of mock displeasure that evaporates as I kiss her, hungrier
for a taste of her than the meal before us. She pushes me away, but I pull her back into the circle of my
arms, bending my neck to nip at her earlobe.
“Forgive me. Your son caught me with his blade, and I had to visit Joorn on the way here,” I
murmur against her ear, enjoying the feel of her luscious breasts pressing against me as she relaxes
into my embrace. “It won’t happen again.”
“Yes, it will,” Biinji boasts. He circles the table like an opponent in the fighting ring, darting to
grab the choicest bites from the serving bowls. Through a full mouth of food, he adds, “It will happen
many more times.”
Ada chuckles at him but then plants her hands on her hips, pursing her lips in disapproval as she
scans us both up and down. “How many times do I have to tell you two, no weapons at the table?”
“At least we remembered to put on our svelis,” I tease. No nudity at the table is another of her pet
rules. But a second stern look from her, and Biinji and I unbuckle our knives with a grumble and drop
them in the basket by the door. Then we find our chairs and pile our bowls with luscious stew and
crisp, herbal biscuits from the table.
 Biinji hardly waits until I thank Alioth for her favor before he dives in with both hands, grunting
and chirping with delight as he devours bowl after bowl of food.
“He’s growing fast,” Ada says, still holding her first spoonful as she marvels at his enthusiasm for
the meal. In her voice, I detect that tinge of sadness I felt before when I noticed Biinji’s teeth. It must
be normal, then, to both love and mourn the signs of your greenling moving toward adulthood. Part of
me wishes he could stay small and innocent forever, even though I know it’s not possible.
I wonder if my father felt this duality when he looked at his six sons. Did he regret when we lost
our innocence bit by bit, even as he took pride in our new skills? I don’t think he did. He only feared
our weaknesses and tried to eradicate them. He did not want us to depend on one another or to be
swayed by our emotions. He believed if we conquered each other instead of loved each other, we
would never experience the pain of loss.
But in this, he was wrong.
To love is to risk. To be dangerously, beautifully vulnerable. Alioth knew it, and this is why she
brought me my Alara, to teach me how to embrace the shadow of her favor—the promise of loss that
haunts love like a ghost.
I’m so grateful to the goddess. For Ada. For Biinji. For moments like these.
Ada reaches out and grasps my hand, squeezing, and I wonder if she can read my thoughts.
Sometimes she seems to, whether because the goddess has joined us together or because I’m less
careful with my skin when we’re together.
“I—have news,” she begins, dropping my hand to fidget with the handle of her spoon.
So do I, I remember. Joorn slipped an update into the pocket of my sveli on my way here. But it
can wait until I hear what she has to say. “What is it?” I ask.
“You’re not going to like it. Or at least, not all of it,” she warns. “Hannah commed me, and I think
I need to go to Alak tomorrow.”
My chest tightens, and my old fear that she’s going to leave me resurfaces. Has she decided to
leave with the Xaszians after all? They’ve taught us how to raise the carbonsilk worms and nearly
completed their tower on Alak. They will be returning the terrakins to Earth soon.
My hand tightens into a fist, my claws digging into my palm as deeply as Biinji’s knife dug into
my ribs. As soon as I remember him, I relax. Of course, Biinji. My eyes go to him, and crumbs tumble
down his cheeks to litter the table as he attacks his bowl of food like a starving saidal.
Our son.
Even if Ada could leave me, she couldn’t leave him. I’ve seen their bond, and it’s unbreakable.
She could not love him more if he was her own. I let out the breath I’ve been holding and motion for
her to explain.
She rewards me with a smile. “Well, it’s for a good reason. Thren found Bree and brought her to
join the others. I didn’t get the details about what happened after she was sold, but I want to go meet
them and make sure she’s okay. And the other reason I need to make the trip...well, your brother—”
She breaks off, her expression wary.
“Which one?” I ask grimly, although I think I know who she means. Lyro has begged his way back
onto the Eye. He says it’s to surveil the high priest’s schemes, but he was so desperate to return that
part of me fears he is planning to take the shadowcloak. Not just wear it but actually speak the vows.
My father always had some kind of hold on him, and now it seems Zomah has a similar power.
“Kyaal,” she says. I whip my head toward her, thinking I heard her wrong. “He...took Jaya.
They’re gone, disappeared into the desert. Nobody can find them. The Xaszians are really angry,
according to Hannah. And so are the other women. They don’t think Jaya went willingly, I guess.”
 My breath hisses out in surprise. “What?”
“I know. Obviously, there was something between them at our joining. I just thought they would
—”
“Fuck,” I finish. She gives a horrified giggle and flicks her eyes to Biinji. I grimace, knowing how
the terrakins feel about mentioning such things in front of greenlings. Thankfully, he’s so blissfully
engaged in devouring every shred of food on the table that he isn’t listening to our conversation.
“Right,” she says, recovering. “I wonder what happened. Why would he do that?”
The answer seems so obvious I don’t speak it aloud. Kyaal must have realized that she is his
Alara and took her to cement their bond before the Xaszian ship departed his planet. A perfectly
logical impulse in my mind.
I pop another dollop of the heavenly traxilla into my bowl before Biinji eats it all and chew it
thoughtfully. It was a rash move on Kyaal’s part. The Xaszians consider the terrakins their
responsibility, so they might view her abduction as a hostile act and retaliate somehow. “Did Hannah
mention the swarm’s response? Are they searching for her?”
Ada shakes her head. “That’s why she commed. They’re not doing anything. The ambassador said
they can’t spare a search party or it will delay their schedule. If Jaya isn’t back by the time the tower
is finished, they’ll just leave without her.”
I relax back in my chair, relief washing over me. “Good.”
“It’s not good! She’s lost in the desert!”
“She’s not lost. She’s with Kyaal.” I scoop up a huge bite of stew with my biscuit and down it in
one gulp. Through it, I add, “He’ll keep her safe.”
“Safe on Alak is a small comfort if you want to go back to Earth and your ride leaves without
you,” Ada points out. She frowns into her bowl, and I realize she hasn’t eaten a bite. I reach out and
cover one of her hands with mine, letting my love shine through my skin so she can see.
“By all means, visit your friends, but I forbid you to search the sands for her,” I grumble. “It’s not
safe. I can’t risk losing you.”
“But what if the ship leaves and Kyaal—”
“If Jaya wishes to return to Earth, I will make it so, no matter what,” I say firmly. Somehow, I
would; I can’t lie to her. “R’Hiza take Kyaal if he tries to stand my way. Now eat before our son
steals your supper.” I nod to Biinji, who has emptied the serving dish and is eyeing Ada’s untouched
portion. Grudgingly, she takes up her spoon again.
Once she has eaten enough, I draw out the slip of grasspaper that Joorn passed me and hold it up.
“I have news as well. Nik intercepted a strange message on a Frathik channel, and he thinks it may be
in your terrakin tongue. No one can decipher the meaning, though. It may be a code.”
I slide it over to her, and she plucks it up, scanning the blocky characters while she nibbles a
biscuit. She drops it, her hands flying to her mouth. “Oh my god. It’s from Lena!”
I close my eyes, leaning my head back, my throat aching like it’s being squeezed by a ruthless
hand. I’d hardly dared to hope it might be true. “Are you sure?” I choke out.
“It has to be!” When I open my eyes again, her entire face is lit up in the same milky blue as her
eyes, beaming pure joy. Even Biinji notices and sits up straight to watch her.
“What does it say?” he asks.
“It says ‘Elvis is alive.’”Ada’s voice wells with emotion, laughter and tears in one gasp. “It’s an
old Earth phrase, kind of a joke, but Elvis is also the name of a disgusting space bug she loves. It’s
Lena. I can’t believe it. She’s alive!”
She clutches the message to her chest, her skin a swirling storm of every color as she looks at me
with wonder and something else I can’t decipher. “You did it. You found her.”
“It was Nik. And he hasn’t found her yet,” I caution.
“It was you. None of this would have happened without you and your huge, generous heart,
Lothan. You gave up so much for me. Your power, your pride, even part of your planet. All for this.”
Her eyes well with tears, though her whole body shifts to a singular, joyful blue and tells me they’re
not tears of sadness.
I clear my throat gruffly. She doesn’t know it, but I’d give up so much more than that to see her
skin shine like the sky. “Nik will continue the search from Usuri. When he determines her location, he
will rescue her. He’s the only one I trust.”
“No.” Ada’s eyes suddenly flash with defiance, her tears a thing of the past. “It should be Lyro.
He deserves a chance to redeem himself.”
A growl escapes my throat at the thought of my treacherous little brother being tasked with the
rescue of someone so precious to my Alara. “He is not honorable, Ada. He has a shadow on his heart.
He always has.”
“That’s why it has to be him.” I don’t like the scowl that creases her features and chases away
some of her pretty blue joy. “If Lena is still with the Frathiks, she doesn’t need someone noble to
rescue her. She needs someone willing to do anything. To break any rule. That’s who I want, someone
who’s not afraid of the dark. Plus, I promised him the task. You wouldn’t make your Alara a liar,
would you?”
“You are too persuasive,” I complain. Her eyes glitter as she decides she has won.
Biinji points with his spoon. “See? I told you Mom always gets what she wants.”
Ada’s breath huffs out, and she starts to cry again. This time, I don’t know why, and Biinji flushes
gray with dismay, dropping his gaze to the stones. He stands, stooping to collect his knives from the
basket as he makes his way out the door.
His movement draws Ada’s attention. She shakes her head, motioning him to return to her. He
does, grudgingly, his small shoulders squared like she’s his opponent, though he seems unwilling to
meet her eyes as he would in the fighting pits.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles to the floor. “It was not meant as an insult, but I should take more care
with my words.”
My chest swells with pride at his bravery. A king must apologize when he causes offense. If he is
not willing to learn from his mistakes, he is not worthy to lead. My son will make a fine Jara
someday.
“You did nothing wrong. In fact, you did something right.” She tips Biinji’s chin up so she can
press a kiss to his forehead. “You called me ‘Mom.’ I consider you my child, but that name is a gift I
never expected to receive, and I was overwhelmed. Thank you, sweetheart.”
He drops his knives and crashes into her, tucking his head beneath her chin with his eyes squeezed
shut, his arms wrapped around her neck. Ada turns her head just enough for me to see the sky-colored
bliss on her face.
“Is this real?” she asks. “Is this really my life?”
“Our life,” I correct, hardly able to believe it myself. “It’s real.”
I can’t resist their joy. It’s like gravity, relentlessly tugging at my heart until I give in and join
them, adding my arms to their orbit. I breathe in their mingled scents—Ada’s unique spice that always
calls me and Biinji’s greenling recipe of dirt and dinner—and contentment settles in my skin, along
with an ache. The delicious knowledge that I would do anything, go anywhere, for these two. My
family. “I wish we could dwell in this moment forever.”
 Ada lifts her eyes to meet mine and, with a look, begs for my kiss. When I oblige, she curves her
lips into a sweet smile against mine. “We don’t have to stay in this moment. Not when we’ll have so
many more.”
Infinitely more, I realize. Forever is a very long time.
 Author’s Note

hank you so much for reading Lothan and Ada’s story. It isn’t over yet! A spicy bonus scene is
T waiting for you when you sign up for my email updates (you can unsubscribe any time).
Want more arrogant royal aliens? The Warrior Kings of Alioth series follows all six of Chanísh’s
sons as they conquer and claim their star-fated queens.
In Book 2, Stained by Starlight, Thren’s strength is tested when a certain little human finds her
way into his cranac of concubines. It’s an enemies-to-lovers story you don’t want to miss.
I owe a debt of gratitude to the authors who beta read this book and helped me shape and improve
the characters and story, especially Krista Luna, Brianna Everly, Ami Wright, and Anna L. Thank you
for enduring my early drafts and believing in me!
Love and stardust,
Sara Ivy Hill
 About the Author

n avid sci-fi romance reader, Sara Ivy Hill has always been fascinated by the possibilities of
A the universe. She believes it's bigger and more magical than anyone on our little planet can
ever imagine.
Sara will cross the galaxy for good coffee, good dogs, and a good time. Ironically, eggplant is her
least favorite food. She writes steamy alien romance because love is out there.
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