"On the grounds that Scalvaris accepted responsibility for human survivors when you chose to integrate them into our city," Terra said. "We cannot selectively decide which humans deserve our protection based on convenience. Either we commit to protecting all humans under our care, or we admit that our word means nothing."
"The humans in question are not under our care," Pyroth argued. "They were never brought to Scalvaris. They were captured by Ignarath. We have no obligation to them."
"We have a moral obligation," Terra countered. "And a strategic one. If we abandon these humans, what message does that send to the humans already in Scalvaris? That they're only valuable as long as they're useful? That we'll discard them the moment protecting them becomes difficult?"
She was good. I had to give her that. She'd taken Lexa's emotional argument and translated it into language theCouncil would understand. Strategic considerations. Political implications. Long-term consequences.
But I could see from Darrokar's face that it wouldn't be enough.
There were only twelve humans in all of Scalvaris. That we'd gone searching for more at all was a miracle.
"Your objection is noted," he said carefully. "We will discuss this matter privately."
In other words, he was shutting down the debate. Removing it from public forum. Whether he would actually reconsider or was just placating his mate remained to be seen.
Terra's jaw tightened, but she nodded. "Thank you, Warrior Lord."
Darrokar's gaze swept the Council. "This session is concluded."
The Council members began to rise, conversations breaking out in low murmurs. The formal atmosphere dissolved into something more casual, warriors discussing training, making plans for later, talking about their families.
I stayed where I was, rooted to the center of the floor.
Lexa looked shattered. All the fire that had driven her outburst had burned out, leaving only exhaustion and defeat. Her shoulders slumped. Her hands unclenched, falling limp at her sides.
Terra put a hand on her arm, said something too quiet for me to hear. Lexa shook her head, pulling away.
Then her eyes found mine across the chamber.
The impact of that gaze hit me in the chest. Betrayal burned in those blue depths. Fury. Determination. And underneath it all, a question:Why didn't you help me?
I had no answer. Nothing that would satisfy her. Nothing that would satisfyme.
She knew nothing of the bond between us, couldn't possibly. We'd fought once, and it had solidified every certainty in me. But she was human. She wasn't of Scalvaris, wasn't Drakarn.
I'd stood silent while she was dismissed, threatened, shut down. I'd done nothing while the Council voted to abandon her people. I'd chosen duty over her, even if she had no way of knowing.
She saw exactly what kind of male I was. What kind of mate I would be. Why I did not deserve her.
A coward who put obligation before everything else.
Her expression shuttered. Whatever she'd been looking for in my face, she didn't find it. She turned away, following Terra toward the chamber exit.
She was going to do something. I knew it with the same certainty I knew my own name. Lexa wasn't the kind of woman who accepted defeat, who waited for others to solve problems. She was a warrior, someone who took action when action was needed.
I feared she was going to go after the missing humans herself.
And she was going to get herself killed.
4
LEXA
We didn't belong here.
I knew that. Every human who wasn't currently cuddled up to one of the seven-foot tall hulking monsters knew that. We were here on sufferance. Frankly, we were beyond lucky that no one had tried to enslave us or kill us. Well, no one besides Karyesth and her zealots.
Humans didn't belong in Scalvaris. On Volcaryth.
