"Tell him you tried to stop me."
"Did I try to stop you?"
"You were very stern. I’m just a very determined female. And my new formula was untested. I didn’t know it would work this fast."
Something crosses his face. Not a smile. Drenz doesn't smile. But his mouth pulls to one side, just barely.
"I will use that version," Drenz says. "If you are questioned, I suggest you use it, too."
I look up to see Rythar watching from the gate. He’s in full armor. Then he moves toward me like he moves in the jungle when he’s hunting something. I take a step back before I can stop myself. Then another. My shoulders hit the courtyard wall. His chest is inches from mine, blotting out the courtyard, and his hand lands at the small of my back, firm, pulling me off the wall and into his side. I can feel his fury through his hand, throughthe heat of him, through the way his fingers press flat against my spine like he's holding me in place or holding himself back. I can't tell which. I don’t ask why he’s angry. I know what I did.
The med-tech starts to say something, but Rythar’s glare is enough to silence him.
“Report for debriefing,” Rythar orders him and two others. He doesn’t want this discussed in public. But this crowd is going to talk. I can feel the shift from confusion to suspicion to something closer to reverence. Or fear.
Rythar steers me away from the crowd, fingers around my upper arm. I carry my medkit. We walk into the fortress and through the corridor, footsteps echoing around us. Rythar is silent and brooding, his powerful stride making it difficult for me to keep up with the pace he sets for us. He doesn't slow until the door slides shut behind us. Only then does he speak.
"Elena."
Just my name. The way Rythar says it, it sounds like the first word of a sentence that will end in blood. Goosebumps rise on my arms. I know that voice. I've heard it directed at his warriors, at things in his jungle. I've never heard it directed at me.
"I ordered you not to use the antivenom," he says. His fingers are still wrapped tightly around my arm. He glances down at the medkit. "I told you that nothing you build leaves my oversight. You disobeyed me."
"You're angry with me," I say, forcing words past my throat.
His eyes pin mine. "Angry with you," he repeats. The words come out slowly, like he's tasting each one and finding them wrong. "Angry. With you."
My heart hammers. I lift my chin the way I've learned to do when everything inside me wants to fold. "Yes. I disobeyed you. I wasn't thinking about your orders because he was dying in front of me. What was I supposed to do? Let him die?"
"Yes, Elena. You let him die. You let me handle it. You let my warriors handle it. Do not ever risk yourself again.”
"I wasn't in danger. I was doing my job."
"Your job.” His eyebrows slash down. “You are not on New Terra."
"I know that," I snap.
"Do you?" His hand catches my chin, tilting my face up. His thumb presses into the hinge of my jaw, holding me where he wants me. "Because the woman I just watched kneel in front of my warriors was not thinking like someone who lives on Xytheos. She was thinking like someone who still believes the old rules apply."
I pull my chin free. His fingers open, but his eyes stay narrowed on mine.
"The old rules will get you killed here. And the ones that feel most right to you are the ones that will get you killed the fastest," he growls.
I hold his stare. My mouth flattens. "Compassion is not an outdated rule," I say stubbornly.
“This was a trap," he says, quieter now. "Serpent-panthers do not appear by accident. Someone wanted to draw out the cure. They wanted to see if you had one. Instead, they saw you kneel in the dirt and administer it yourself." He pauses. "And now they know."
The name “Vorak” isn't spoken, but it’s who Rythar is talking about.
Rythar’s hand comes to the small of my back and steers me past every door I might choose and through the one he's chosen for me.
Our quarters.
The door seals behind us. He turns on me. The armor makes him bigger, wider, and in this room he fills every corner. One hand fists in the fabric at my waist, pulling me forward untilthere's no air between us and all I can smell is cinnamon and jungle and the wild scent that lives under his skin.
"You will remain here," Rythar says. "Hewill not have you."
His lips are on mine before I finish processing the words, and the kiss is a claim, teeth nipping my lower lip, his hand at my waist holding me where he put me.
