I stare at the wall, waiting for Sator to leave.
And then the world explodes.
The boom is so sudden and violent that for one disorienting moment, I think I've died. That my heart has finally given out, and this is what it feels like. But then the floor shudders beneath my sleeping pad. Another explosion follows, closer this time, and I hear voices shouting and the sharp, stuttering crack of weapons fire.
I bolt upright so fast my vision swims with black spots. My wasted muscles scream in protest. Sator's already on his feet, his luxen flickering through a rapid cascade of colors.
"What—" I start, but another boom drowns out my words. This one's close enough to rattle the tray beside my pad. The cup of water tumbles to the floor.
The shouting is getting louder. Closer.
I try to stand, but my legs give out and I collapse back onto the sleeping pad. Sator is at my side in an instant. I reach out without thinking and grab his hand. I clutch at him. His fingers close around mine immediately, squeezing tight.
"It could be—" he gasps. The hope in his voice is almost painful to hear.
My cell door bursts open. A figure storms through the opening with a weapon raised.
I've never seen anything like this being.
It's tall. Taller than me, though not as tall as a Cerastean male. Something about the breadth of his shoulders and the hard set of his jaw makes me think he's male, but it's hard to be sure with such strangely flat features and smooth, sandstone-colored skin. He has no scales. Just a flat, alien face with two eyes, a nose, and a mouth set in hard lines of concentration.
But I don't have time to study this strange creature, because more figures are pouring through the ruined doorway behind it. And these I recognize.
Cerastean males. Warriors, by the look of them. Tall and powerful, scales gleaming in muted shades of bronze and copper and gold. They move with the controlled efficiency of warriors, weapons sweeping the room, and the sight of my own kind after so long hits me like a physical blow.
The strange male barks words in a language I don't understand and swings its weapon toward Sator.
I don't think. There's no thought involved at all. Just instinct. Only the desperate need to shield the one person who's protected me.
I throw myself off the sleeping pad and in front of Sator, my weakened legs nearly buckling as I spread my arms wide. "Do not harm him!" I scream in Cerastean.
The creature freezes. His weapon still raised.
"Stand down." One of the Cerastean warriors speaks; to the male or to me, I'm not sure. Then, to Sator in Ostium: "You. On your knees. Hands in the air."
Sator releases my hand immediately and complies, sinking down to the cold floor with his arms raised. His luxen cycle through rapid pulses of anxious green. But his eyes never leave me.
"He's not our enemy," I say urgently, turning to the Cerastean warrior. He's older than the others, with dark copperscales and the bearing of command. "Premier Sator is a captive like us. He's protected us… helped us?—"
"We'll determine that." The warrior's voice isn't unkind, but it's firm. He produces restraints and moves toward Sator. I take an unsteady step to intercept.
A hand catches my arm.
I spin, hissing on instinct, and find myself face to face with the strange male. It has put its weapon away and is holding up its other hand in what I belatedly recognize as a gesture of peace. He says something in an unfamiliar language. The words are rolling and strange.
I shake my head to show I don't understand.
"He's a human," the copper-scaled warrior says as he secures Sator's wrists behind his back. "They're allies. They've been helping us fight against Queen Diamalla."
Human. The word means nothing to me, but I file it away as I study this creature – thishuman– with wary attention. He hasn't tried to hurt me. He lowered his weapon when I screamed. And the Cerastean warrior seems to trust him, which has to count for something.
My legs are trembling. The burst of adrenaline that got me off the sleeping pad is fading fast, and I sink back down onto its edge before I collapse entirely.
"Please." I keep my eyes on the human even as I address the Cerastean. "Don't harm Premier Sator. He's been a prisoner here, the same as any of us. The queen forced him to—" My voice catches. I have to swallow hard before I can continue. "He tried to protect us. However he could."
Behind me, I hear Sator speaking. His Ostium-accented Cerastean is rough but understandable. "My daughter. Princess Ameela. Is she?—"
"The princess is well," the warrior replies. Sator closes his eyes. Just for a moment. "She's leading the assault on the capital as we speak. Diamalla will fall within the hour."
