Dana snaps. She draws a shard of hull, points it at Rythar’s chest. “Back off.”
I’m horrified, grateful, and scared for her.
The Ex O moves fast. In a smooth movement, he twists the metal from her grip without touching her and tosses it away.
Rythar doesn’t waver. “Small warrior,” he says. He raises one finger to her, as though she is someone he must be patient with. “No weapons for women.”
Dana bares her teeth. “I’ll kill you if you touch any of us.”
I edge nearer to Dana, a second away from stepping between her and whatever punishment is coming.
But Rythar only tilts his head. “You are brave,” he says to Dana. There’s no mockery or anger in his tone.
The warriors finish tending the wounded and provide each of us with a soft blanket.
Rythar addresses us. “We walk now.”
Tessa clutches Reema’s hand. “What if we say no?”
His visor turns toward her, then to the Ex O.
The Ex O explains. “We are your escorts to the Concord Stone. There, you will participate in the Claiming Ceremony. You will accompany us. If you do not walk, we will carry you.” He pauses, receives another look from Rythar. “I must educate you in some of our ways. Touching an unclaimed female who awaits the Claiming Ceremony is forbidden except in cases of need. And even then it is unwise. It can stir feelings we must suppress, sometimes with much difficulty.”
The warriors close ranks. My heart knocks a hard rhythm against my ribs, out of sync with itself. The frequency coming off their armor—whatever shield it’s generating—does more than keep animals back. It pushes through the air in steady waves, brushing over my skin until every nerve stands alert. The pieces click. This is what we felt earlier. The static. The pressure in my head. I narrow my eyes at Rythar and the Ex O.
“Youwerenearby, watching us from the jungle,” I say accusingly. “Why did you wait so long to show yourselves?”
Rythar ignores my question and moves past me. My balance slips for a second as I edge away from him, my knees dipping before I can correct. His hand finds my arm again, steadying me with the same controlled grip as before.
“Careful,” he says.
I wrench my arm free. “Ex O said that you’re not supposed to touch me,” I hiss.
Rythar inclines his head. “Except if need,” he says.
I keep walking.
Quinn mutters, “A claiming ceremony sounds bad.”
Piper exhales. “Could be worse. Could be space bears.”
I let my steps slow, let them pass me by.
Rythar glances back. His visor finds me immediately. The others keep moving, but he slows his pace until he falls in beside me. Something shifts in him as he nears me. It’s subtle, and I feel it more than I see it. His shoulders settle, a quiet change thatsends a strange awareness sliding across my skin. I don’t know what it means. I only know it means something.
Rythar says my name quietly. “Elena.”
He shouldn’t know my name. He must have seen it in my file, listed alongside metrics and viability markers. Human genetics. Fertile. Adaptable. All the reasons someone might justify valuing me, even if I weren’t an engineer and a trauma nurse. But the way he says "Elena" doesn't sound like cold data. It sounds like he's been waiting to say it. Like he wants me to say his name in return.
His gaze holds mine behind the visor. “You are different.”
His grasp of my language is limited, but his inflection is loaded with interest.
I lift my chin. “Different how?”
A small tension pulls at his jaw. For a breath, he looks at me like he’s fighting something inside himself.
Some traitorous part of me is relieved he isn’t repulsive. Then ashamed that the thought even crossed my mind. Aliens were never the mission.
