Drenz nods. “Scouts, drones, and at least one council envoy. No attempt at contact. Just observation.”
Rythar moves behind me, close enough that his chest brushes my shoulder. “They’re moving this direction,” Rythar says. He brushes my hair off my neck. It’s a casual gesture, but I feel the tension growing in his touch. Rythar isn’t watching the Council’s ships. He’s watching me.
I step away from the projection and turn to him.
“I shared the antivenom,” I say, sharper than I mean to. “That should be enough.”
“The more we give them, the more they will demand,” Rythar says.
I fold my arms. “Then how do we make this stop?”
Rythar’s jaw tightens. His gaze drops to the faint glow beneath my finger. “I will make it stop. Not we.” Silence falls between us. His thumb brushes the ring of light on my finger.
Not we.
"We," I say hotly. "You saidwith. Behind the waterfall. Not behind you—with you. Did you mean it, or is it something you say to calm a female down?"
His head tips toward mine, slow, and I know he’s mad. He pulls me into the dead space behind the projection, where the hum of the map eats our voices and the officers know better than to look.
"Do not throw my vow at me as if I have forgotten it." His voice is quiet. "You are teaching me to be held. I am learning. Now hear the other half of the bargain," Rythar says.
I wait, arms crossed, pulse hammering.
"There is a strength I must teach you. The kind that means no warrior on this planet can ever take you from me again. Perhaps no lord." His jaw works. "I cannot teach it yet. Not here. Not until what I am building is ready. Until then, when the Council comes, I stand between. Not because you are weak, Elena. But because you are still only flesh and bone."
The fight goes out of my fists and lands somewhere lower, somewhere that aches. "Fine," I say. "Then build faster."
The corner of his mouth twitches. "The jungle does not rush."
"Neither do I," I say. I look back at the gold dots crawling across the map. "But they do."
The Council ships continue their approach.
CHAPTER 37
CONTINGENCIES
ELENA – RYTHAR’S FORTRESS IN THE GREEN REACH
Proximity alarms blareas two Council envoys and a single, silent escort arrive. Only one ship enters Rythar’s biome. They have signaled their intentions ahead. We’re supposed to be meeting for a technical debrief. They want one last review of the antivenom. That’s the story, but I’m certain that the Council has ulterior motives. There is too much at stake. They would not enter Rythar’s biome without reason.
I walk a step ahead of Rythar, feeling the warmth of his powerful hand resting between my shoulder blades as we move through the gauntlet of steely-eyed warriors. The air is thick with the green of the jungle and the spices of the Green Reach, but the tension lingers. Drenz is elsewhere, not seen, but I know Rythar has him monitoring everything.
The meeting is in the largest chamber, a vault of wood, its walls shaped to focus sound. The Council delegation is already there, arrayed around the table. As one, they rise to greet us in an obligatory show of respect.
Rythar bows, a minimal motion. “Councilors.”
The one in the center nods back. “Warlord. And Bride.”
I shut my eyes so they can’t see them roll.
We take our seats.
They smoothly congratulate me on the “successful stabilization” of the antivenom. They thank Rythar for his effective leadership. They recite casualty figures and cross-reference them with our own, never missing a beat. But they don’t ask a single technical question about the antivenom.
Instead, they pivot.
“You have adapted more quickly than any of the Starfallen,” says the one on the right, a male with eyes like polished obsidian. “How do you account for your,” he pauses, searching for the word, “resilience?”
