I squeeze his fingers.
“And what about for me?” Khan asks. “What is my survival rate?”
The head magician frowns at his tablet. Stunned, I try to drop Khan’s hand, but he won’t let me. He grips me more firmly, threading his fingers with mine.
“Khan?” My voice is raspy as I turn to him, my throat suddenly constricted. His scent blankets me.
“I will not leave you,” he growls. “Do not ask me to.” With his free hand, he strokes my cheek. “There is nothing here in Ulfaria for me. Without you, there is nothing.”
There’s a flash of light. The portal’s bright with a white blue glare. It’s like looking into a floodlight.
“Soon,” the Beta calls. “There is a slim chance of an Ulfarri surviving travel through the portal.”
“But your people? Your kingdom?”I bleat. My heart is pounding. This is all happening so fast, and I feel rushed. Pressured. Panicky.
“I will leave another in charge.”
I glance at Aurus. “And the other humans? The women?”
Khan grasps my chin and pulls my gaze to his. “The human females will be acquired one way or another. I cannot stop that. But I can give this to you.”
The head Beta looks up from his tablet and announces, “Survival rate for the human is ninety-five point two percent. Are you prepared to accept this risk?”
“Yes,” I say, because I don’t have any idea but I don’t want to say no to my options. Ninety-five percent isn’t bad. It isn’t perfect, but…
The Beta turns to Khan. “Survival rate for an Ulfarri is twenty point nine percent.”
“What?” I grimace as a cold prickle of fear creeps up the back of my neck. That’s less than a quarter! “No!”
Khan growls and grips my hand. “Emma—”
“I do not advise you to travel through the portal,” the head Beta continues. There’s not a great bedside manner in his matter-of-fact tone. “The air will be hard on you. If you do choose to go, and survive the trip, you must find medical care immediately upon your arrival on the other side. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” Khan says. Still so calm. Beneath the sorrow I feel vibrating in our bond, I detect something else. Resignation. It’s about to break my heart.
“The portal is almost ready.” The head magician hands off his tablet. He steps to the side and gestures like a solemn, priestly Vanna White. “The moons are in place, and it will soon be time.”
“Wait, no.” I raise a hand to block out the pulsing light. “You can't come. I don't have medical care.” I’m pretty sure my health insurance won’t cover him. Even if Khan’s anatomy is similar to a human's, they would put them in a lab and study him. “What if I can't get him medical help in time?” I ask. My heart is crashing against my ribs now; it’s hard to breathe.
“Then he will die,” the magician says in a flat tone as if he’s totally bored by the conversation. Not much empathy required for the position of head magician, apparently.
The light flares.
“The portal is ready. You have one minute.”
Khan steps to my side, still holding my hand. “Are you ready?”
“No! Khan, you have to stay here! You can't come with me.” I try to twist away, but his grip is like iron. No escape.If I go, he’ll be coming with me. I can’t stop him.
The portal is a giant rectangle of rippling light. On the other side is my home—if the Beta magicians can be trusted and believed.
Home, where there’s one sun. One moon. And taxes. And bounced checks. And rent. And stupid bosses…
And Khan. He'll step through the portal with me and venture into an alien land. Just like that. I'll watch him make the ultimate sacrifice for me.Give up everything he’s ever known. For me.
And then I'll watch him die.
“Thirty seconds,” the Beta intones. I taste blood. A pinching sensation in my lip. I've bitten myself.There’s a physical ache humming in our bond, and I can’t tell whether it’s Khan’s pain, or mine.
