The caphik reared up on its hind legs, trying to use its full height and weight to crush me. I saw the quills on its back bristle, preparing to launch.
I dropped low, sweeping the staff in a wide arc that caught both its hind legs. It crashed down hard, and before it could recover, I was on it.
The staff became a spear. I drove it down with all my strength, aiming for the soft spot at the base of its skull where spine met brain.
The wood punched through fur and flesh and bone.
The caphik convulsed once, its red eyes going wide with shock. Then it went still.
I stood there for a moment, chest heaving, the staff still buried in the creature's skull. Blood—dark and thick—pooled around my feet. My arms trembled from exertion and adrenaline.
"Holy shit!"
I turned to see Cullen staring at me, his expression somewhere between awe and disbelief. He was on his feet now, one hand pressed to his ribs, but his eyes were locked on me and the dead caphik.
"You just—" He gestured at the massive corpse. "With a stick."
I pulled the staff free, the wood slick with blood. "A quarterstaff," I corrected, my voice steadier than I felt. "My favored weapon."
"I can see why." He limped over, wincing with each step. "That was... I've never seen anything like that."
I looked at him, at the blood on his face and the way he was holding his ribs, and felt something fierce and protective surge through me. He'd fought bravely, had drawn first blood even though he was outmatched. Had bought me the seconds I needed to find a weapon.
"I'm Vaktaire," I said simply, meeting his eyes. "We are warriors."
Understanding flickered across his face—not just of what I'd done, but of what I was. What my people were. The legacy of combat and honor and strength that ran through my veins.
He smiled, despite the pain he was clearly in. "Yeah. You definitely are."
I moved to his side, supporting him as we looked down at the dead caphik. The creature's blood was already attracting smaller scavengers—insect-like things that skittered out from the rocks.
"Can you walk?" I asked.
"I can manage." He straightened, trying not to show how much it hurt. "We need to keep moving. If that thing heard us, Riuondo's people might have too."
He was right. The fight had been loud, and sound carried in these foothills. We needed to find shelter, tend to Cullen's injuries, and figure out our next move.
But as we started climbing again, Cullen leaning on me more than I suspect he wanted to admit, I couldn't shake the feeling that everything was changing. That the careful control I'd maintained for so long was slipping through my fingers like water.
Because when I'd seen that caphik about to kill Cullen, I hadn't thought about duty or politics or what was best for the Alliance.
I'd only thought about saving him.
And that terrified me more than any enemy ever could.
Chapter 10
Cullen
The cave wasn't much—a shallow depression in the mountainside, barely deep enough to qualify as shelter. But it was hidden behind a curtain of vines and offered protection from the elements and, more importantly, from prying eyes. The twin suns were setting, casting long shadows across the foothills, and the temperature was beginning to drop.
Serna helped me inside, my ribs screaming with every movement. The cave was cool, the stone smooth beneath our feet. Dim light filtered through the vines, painting everything in shades of green and gold. It felt private. Safe, at least for the moment.
"Sit," Serna ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument.
I lowered myself onto a flat rock near the cave entrance, biting back a groan as pain lanced through my side. Serna knelt in front of me, pulling the small medi-kit from her pack. Her movements were efficient, but there was something gentle in the way she opened the kit and began sorting through its contents.
"Let me see," she said quietly.
