“So everyone just gave up,” I said bitterly, switching languages again. Using the implanted translator always gave me a headache. It was one of the reasons why I took the time to learn any language I knew I’d be speaking a lot of. Now, my head was a throbbing cap of pain. Pounding anxiety, which was causing me to run my mouth in a room full of fully armed warriors whodidn’tlike me, was not helping. “The D’tran gave up on finding solutions and focused on revenge. The Kythrans gave up on cooperation and hid in their caves. And now we’re all here, in this broken chamber, surrounded by destroyed equipment and wasted opportunities, while the planet dies around us.”
I sank down beside Torven, exhausted and hopeless. My fingers dug into my temple, as if I could route out the pain there and toss it away. “Ican’t fix this. I thought I could, but I can’t. My equipment is destroyed. The systems are toocomplex. The species involved won’t work together. And even if they did, we don’t have the knowledge or the tools or the…” I trailed off, too tired to continue.
Torven’s hand found mine, his grip weak but steady. “Rivers.”
“Don’t,” I said. “Just don’t. I failed. We failed. It’s over.”
But it wasn’t over. Because Vikkat stepped forward. His massive frame crouched down to look me in the eye. “The human female speaks truth,” he said. “We dishonored ourselves today. Acted like beasts instead of warriors. Attacked those who could not defend themselves.” He turned to the Kythrans. “Tell them, we apologize. For this violence. For generations of hatred. For forgetting that we are all victims of this horror.”
I told the Kythrans what Vikkat said. One by one, the other D’tran lowered their heads in acknowledgment. Even Dorek looked chastened, and the shame in his expression suggested he’d be dealing with this moment for a long time.
The eldest Kythran spoke, and I translated automatically. “They said your apology is accepted. That they, too, have failed. Failed to reach out, to try again, to believe cooperation was possible. They have hidden in fear when they should have had courage.”
“Then we start now,” Vikkat said. “No more violence. No more hiding. We work together or we all die together.”
It should have felt like a victory. Like a turning point. But all I could feel was the weight of everything we’d lost. My equipment. Our advantage. Precious time.
And nearly Torven.
I looked at him, this male who’d thrown himself betweenme and death without hesitation, and felt something crack open in my chest. I’d known I cared about him. I’d known the mating bond was real.
But until that moment, watching the energy blast coming toward me and seeing him move, I hadn’t fully understood what it would mean to lose him.
I hadn’t understood that losing him would be losing everything that mattered.
“You’re too brave for your own good,” I whispered to him.
He smiled weakly. “I learned from the best.”
Despite everything, I felt my lips twitch. We were trapped in a cave with angry warriors and terrified Kythrans, my equipment was destroyed, we had no way to navigate or analyze anything, and the planet was dying around us.
At the end of the world, at least we were together. Even if it wasallwe had.
CHAPTER 19
TORVEN
Ihad to admit, the pain was bad. It ebbed and flowed, sometimes receding to a dull ache, and other times burning like a hot coal pressed through my skin, straight to the bone. The Kythran ointment helped, though. Whatever it was—preservedlamior something like it—it kept the worst at bay. What I really didn’t want was an infection.
What was worse than the pain, however, was how useless I currently was. That was the thought that circled through my mind as I lay on a makeshift bed the Kythrans had assembled from their sleeping mats. Useless to protect Zara. Useless to navigate. Useless to do anything except lie here while the planet died around us.
Zara sat beside me, methodically checking the wound on my back for the fourth time that hour. Her hands were gentle but she clearly had no medical experience. “It’s looking better,” she said. “I think. No sign of infection.”
“That’s good.” My voice came out rougher than I’d intended, and I saw her wince.
“Does it hurt more? I can ask the Kythrans for more—”
“No.” I caught her hand, stopping her from standing. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You took an energy blast that should have killed you.” Her voice broke slightly on the last word. “You’re not fine at all.”
She wasn’twrong. I’d never taken a direct blast at close range from an energy weapon before. Thankfully the D’tran homemade weapons were much weaker than the high-damage models produced in the military sector. If Dorek had fired one of those, it would have burned straight through me, and Zara, and scorched whatever was behind us. I looked at her properly for the first time since she’d started checking my wound. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying or lack of sleep or both. Her hair had come loose from its braid, and now it was a wild blond bush around her face. She looked exhausted, defeated, and a little unhinged. And it was my fault.
“I’d do it again,” I said quietly. “Take the blast. To protect you. I’d do it every time.”
“That’s the problem.” She pulled her hand from mine and stood up, pacing away from me. “You shouldn’t have had to. I shouldn’t have put you in that position. I shouldn’t have—” She stopped, her shoulders hunching. “This whole thing was a mistake.”
“What whole thing?”
