"You seem very certain."
Dhomhes raised his dark eyebrow. "Never been more certain. They won't let anything happen to them, I promise. My father is the Protector of the New Kingdom, remember? His entire place in the Coalition is to protect and speak for the refinery and their workers." He crossed his arms, looking a little too prideful.
"And make sure the citricite continues to be produced," Stron said. True enough-if citricite stopped being produced then Kantenan would lose their biggest and most valuable asset, and galactic export.
"I promise you that no one in the Coalition wants the profits to stop. So, the refineries are the safest place on Kantenan right now."
He had a point.
Stron wasn't crazy about the idea, for the same reasons that Dhomhes believed it was safe — the dangerous nature of citricite. It could easily blow up and kill a great deal of humanoids. Kantenan or otherwise.
But they had very few options. The Coalition was keeping the planet closed from incoming or outgoing transports for the time being.
At least until this has been worked out.
The three of them stepped aboard the ship, where the cargo bay had been converted into a passenger zone, with rows of seats. The humanoid females took their places and started strapping themselves in.
His eyes went straight to Adryel, finding her immediately the way they always seemed to now. She was seated near the rear with Janae, her curls loose around her shoulders. She caught him looking and raised an eyebrow. He looked away.
Kantenan guards surrounded the perimeter of the passenger area, and the Galactic Alliance passengers filled most of the seats. The passengers were nervous. Fidgety.
Everyone on this transport knew that this could be the smartest thing they could do to protect them, or the dumbest.
“Did you arrange an escort?” Stron asked.
Dhomhes raised his eyebrow. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”
“I don’t know what you’ve been experiencing the last few days, but I’ve been attacked multiple times, nearly died a few of them. So the question is valid.”
Dhomhes shook his head. “You worry too much.”
He glanced back again, and while he didn’t see Adryel’s face, he saw her hair. The curls fluttered, like they did.
Stron looked back at Dhomhes. “Or not enough.”
24
ADRYEL
The transport smelled like sweat and old ore and something chemical that burned the back of her throat.
Adryel told herself that was the only reason her stomach was unsettled. It didn’t have anything to do with the five thousand scenarios she’d made up in her head about what could happen to all of them, with one good shot from a determined zealot.
Or worse.
“He could have gotten a nicer one,” she muttered, just loud enough for Janae to hear.
“Maybe it’s cover. They wouldn’t think all of us would be on an ore transport vessel, would they?” Janae said.
Adryel shifted in her chair, to give Janae more room as she sat down, but it didn’t seem to help much.
Instead, their shoulders touched in the cramped seating, and for a few minutes they talked — quietly, the way they'd learned to talk when they didn't want to be overheard.
About the knotting.
About Stron.
About what came next. Janae's eyes went soft when she talked about Khalzin, and Adryel let herself feel something close to happy for her friend. She deserved a better hand than what she’d been given so far in her life.
