“And if it’s a ship?”
She hesitates, and that alone is terrifying.
“Then don’t go inside,” she says. “Not until you return with reinforcements.”
I nod. “Got it.”
Jolie hands me my pruning knife, recently sharpened.
“Stay alert, keep to the dunes’ shadows, and Lia?—”
“Yes?”
She smiles, small but warm. “Make us proud.”
The knot in my chest loosens just enough to breathe.
“I will.”
As I step out of the tent, the first stars sparkle in the red twilight. The dunes glow faintly beneath the moon rising overhead, casting the whole desert in soft silver and crimson shadows.
Behind me, the settlement murmurs with worry. Zmaj growls, human whispers, Urr’ki grunts—all blended into a single trembling chord of fear.
In front of me, Tajss stretches vast and endless. Harsh. Deadly. Beautiful.
Something is poisoning this world. And if I don’t find it, it will kill us all. The desert wind brushes my cheek, carrying heat even in the dark.
“Okay, Tajss,” I whisper. “Show me what you’re hiding.”
And I step forward into the night.
2
RAKKH
The human girl moves through the canyon mouth like she belongs to the dark. Small steps. Quick breaths. Determined movement.
I watch from the shadows of the ridge. She walks as if she is not afraid—but her pulse betrays her. I hear it from here, a soft flutter beneath the whisper of sand.
Lia.
The plant women spoke her name with pride. Whispered it with worry. I can already see that the humans underestimate her, the Zmaj overlook her, and the Urr’ki barely notice her at all.
Which makes her the most dangerous kind of human. Unseen by choice.
The Urr’ki Queen stands beside me, delicate braids swaying, bone beads chiming softly in the rising wind. The moons cast silver across her emerald skin. She is small for an Urr’ki, but her presence commands warriors to stand straighter.
Even me.
“She goes alone,” I murmur.
“She believes she does,” the Queen replies, voice warm and sharp at once.
The girl adjusts the pouch at her hip. Her hand trembles. She swallows hard. Fear rolls off her in waves she tries to mask—but she does not turn back. Courage. Quiet courage. The rarest kind.
“She will not make it two lengths of travel without something scenting her fear.” I flex my claws in the sand. “She should not be out there.”
“That,” the Queen says, “is why you will go with her.”
