Too bad we didn't have a choice.
The corridor outside the Council chambers stretched ahead of me, all carved obsidian and flickering heat crystals that did nothing to warm the cold fury settling in my chest. The stone beneath my boots was worn smooth by centuries of Drakarn feet. My breath came too fast, shallow pulls of air that tasted of mineral and heat. My boots hit the stone harder than necessary, each step a punctuation mark to the litany of curses running through my head.
The Council's decision replayed in my mind, each word a fresh cut. Passive intelligence gathering. No active resources. The missing humans reduced to a footnote in Scalvaris politics, their lives deemed less important than strategic concerns and political convenience.
A pair of younger warriors rounded the corner ahead, their scales gleaming copper and green. They were deep in conversation, wings partially extended in animated gestures, until their gazes landed on me. They saw my face and immediately pressed themselves against the wall, giving me a wide berth.
Smart. I was in no mood for Drakarn bullshit today.
The mountain pressed down from above, thousands of tons of volcanic rock between me and open sky. My lungs felt tight, compressed, like the air itself was too thick to breathe properly.
I'd never been claustrophobic before, but living underground was starting to get to me. The endless stone, the cloying air, the knowledge that I was trapped beneath a mountain with no easy way out. My fingers twitched with the urge to feel sunlight, real sunlight, not the pale imitation that filtered down through the sky tunnels.
"Lexa, wait!" Terra called after me. I could hear her running.
I slowed but didn't stop. My jaw ached from clenching it, teeth grinding together hard enough to make my temples throb. My hands were shaking, adrenaline from the confrontation still singing through my veins with nowhere to go. More Drakarn lingered near the entrance to the Council chambers, their conversations dying as I passed. Curious eyes tracked my movement. Assessing. Judging.
Let them look. Let them see a human who refused to bow and scrape and accept their decisions as law.
Terra caught up to me, slightly breathless. Her cheeks were flushed, whether from exertion or emotion I couldn't tell. Probably both. Her hand found my elbow, gentle but firm. I was tempted to jerk away, but I finally stopped moving and turned to face her.
"Not here," she said quietly, her gaze flicking to the watching Drakarn. "Let's go somewhere private."
I wanted to argue, wanted to have this out right here in front of witnesses, but the tactical part of my brain that still functioned recognized she was right. The Drakarn were already watching us like we were some kind of spectacle. No need to give them more ammunition, more reasons to see humans as emotional and unstable. I jerked my chin in acknowledgment and let her guide me down a side corridor, away from prying eyes and listening ears.
The new passage was narrower, less trafficked. The heat crystals here were dimmer. The walls closed in on either side, rough-hewn stone that still bore the marks of whatever tools the Drakarn had used to carve these tunnels.
Terra waited until we were well away from the main corridor before she made a sound. Her hand dropped from my elbow, and she turned to face me fully. In the dim light, she looked tired. Lines of strain bracketed her mouth, and her shoulders carried tension I recognized all too well.
"That was hot bullshit, and you know it," I spat.
Terra grimaced. "It wasn't great, but what did you expect?"
"For these damn lizard men to keep their word! Vega saw what's happening in Ignarath, so did Zarvash. We can't just leave them there."
"They're not there," Terra pointed out. Her voice was maddeningly calm, the tone she used when she was trying to de-escalate a situation. It made me want to punch something.
"Don't. Something happened." My voice cracked on the last word, anger giving way to something rawer. Fear. The kind that lived in my gut and whispered terrible possibilities in the dark. Images flashed through my mind, unbidden. Humans in chains. Humans in fighting pits. Humans dead in some Drakarn city's gutters, their bodies left to rot because no one cared enough to even bury them.
"I'm aware of that. But this requires patience. We can't just?—"
"You sound just like them." The words came out harsher than I intended, but I couldn't take them back. Didn't want to. Terra's eyes widened, hurt flashing across her face before she could mask it. Part of me felt guilty. The larger part was too angry to care. My whole body felt wound too tight, muscles coiled with the need to move, to act, to do something other than stand in this mountain and wait for permission to care about my own people.
The walls pressed in. Carved stone that had stood for centuries, unmoved and unmovable. I wanted to claw at them, tear through rock until I found sky and air.
Instead, I paced. The confined space of the corridor barely accommodated the movement, but I needed it. Needed to burn off this restless energy before it consumed me from the inside out. My boots scraped against the stone, the sound too loud in the enclosed space.
Terra ignored the barb. "I'm going to talk to Darrokar. We can fix this; we'll find them."
"And when he says no? What are you going to tell Kira then?" The image of Kira's face flashed through my mind. Kira, who'd lost her sister in the crash and had been holding onto hope with both hands for months now. Kira, who trusted us, trusted Terra, trusted thatsomeonewas looking for Larissa.
How do you tell someone their sister is lost? That we gave up looking because it was too hard, too dangerous, too inconvenient?
Terra glared. "I understand why you're angry, but I don't deserve this. Just … give me some time."
Time. Always more time. Wait and see. Be patient. Trust the process. I was so sick of waiting I could taste it, bitter and acrid on the back of my tongue.
I rolled my eyes. "It's not like I have anything else to give."
