Chapter 1
I HAVE THIS COMPLETELY UNDER CONTROL
ERIKA
It is barely dawn, but the cavern is already warm, the air thick with the smell of warming dust and crushed firebloom. I kneel by the shallow edge of the drinking pool, my knees aching against the hard, uneven stone as I pull another woven filter from the water.
A thin film of red algae coats the thick fibers. It smells sharp, like rusted iron, and it leaves a thin, burning residue on my hands every time I plunge them back into the water. I grimace, ignoring the sting in my raw knuckles as I begin to tease apart a stubborn knot in the weave.
If I do not clear this algae by midday, the toxin will build up and the drinking water will sour. And if the water sours, twenty human women who are already weak, already frightened, will fall violently ill with fever and vomiting. Our transport ship was destroyed in the crash and there is no way to go back. We have lost our home. I am not going to let us lose anyone else to something as preventable as contaminated water.
I can bear the stinging in my hands. It is a small price for that little bit of certainty.
The cavern behind me is already awake. A dozen massive Drakav move around the central fire pit, checking their bone weapons and preparing for the morning hunt. They are enormous creatures, their pale golden skin marked with thick, curving ridges along their shoulders and entirely bare of clothing save for leather weapon harnesses. When they found us, the sheer, overpowering sight of so much exposed, muscular alien male had been dizzying. But months have passed, and survival has stripped away my modesty. Now, I simply accept that we share a living space with actual naked giants.
What still unsettles me, though, is the silence. So many massive bodies moving over the stone, and yet there is no clatter, no shouted greetings. Only the low crackle of the firestones and the quiet scrape of sharpening stones.
Which makes it incredibly jarring when a voice speaks directly beside me.
“Eh...rih-?”
I flinch, my hands jerking. A splash of acidic water hits my chest.
I look up. Kelvan stands right next to my shoulder. I did not even hear him approach. He is recovering from a severe tear to his leg, which means he moves with a slow, careful limp, but he is still silent.
He gestures wordlessly toward the heavy, dripping basket of wet weave beside my knee, then reaches down with one enormous, clawed hand to gently pull it away from me.
I do not want him to take it. The filters are my task. If I do not have a task to complete, if I do not have something vital to occupy my hands and my racing mind, I fear the crushing weight of our situation will finally break me.
“Krah,” I say firmly, holding up one red-stained hand to block him.
Kelvan freezes. He drops his hand and tilts his head, his golden eyes sweeping over my face and my shoulders, as if searching for an injury or an explanation.
I am fairly certain I just used the wrong word. I meant to say ‘no,’ but my grasp of the harsh Drakav language is still severely lacking.
“Krah,” I repeat, pointing at the wet basket so there could be no misunderstanding. “Mine.”
A soft rustle of movement draws my attention. Jacqui steps away from the bright, radiating heat of the fire pit and heads toward us. She pauses beside me, her expression soft as she tilts her head the way she always does when listening to the telepathic mindspace.
“She meansKah, Kelvan,” Jacqui says gently. “No.” She looks at me. “NotKrah. She isn’t challenging you for dominance. Leave the basket. She wishes to tend to it herself.”
Kelvan looks at my dripping hands, then at the basket, seeming deeply bewildered that I would fight to keep such a painful, foul-smelling burden. But he gives a slow, respectful nod and backs away, his limp pronounced as he returns to the fire.
“Empire help me, they are like enormous, anxious hounds,” I sigh softly, plunging my fingers back into the stubborn, slick fibers. “He saves my life, and now he wishes to do my chores.”
The wet weave chooses that exact moment to stick. I pull harder, the wet fiber snaps free, and the back of my hand slams hard against the rough edge of the stone pool.
“Ah!” I hiss, pulling my hand to my chest. The skin on my knuckles tears, a bright line of crimson welling up to mix with the red algae.
I curse under my breath, an angry string of Spanish leaving my lips before I can stop it. “Me cago en la leche.”
Beside me, Jacqui winces. She presses the heel of her hand firmly against her temple, squeezing her eyes shut, obviously receiving something loud within the mindspace.
“What is it?” I ask, wiping my bleeding knuckle against the rough fabric of my cargo pants.
Jacqui exhales a shaky breath. “Tharn is...very confused,” she murmurs.
“About what?”
