“I am going home.” Gillian glares at him. “I have no desire to stay here.”
I can’t quite work out the expression which passes over Darax’s face. Could it be triumph? Pleasure? Pity?
I release a low, long growl.
“I need to speak to them all, Dalox,” Gillian says quietly. “I can’t go unless I do.”
With a shove, I push Darax back to his warriors.
“Neutral sector, clan hall, one nova-hour,” I growl. “Make sure all the humans are gathered because we are not doing this again.”
GILLIAN
Dalox has been like a dragon with a sore head since he assaulted the other Sarkarnii, the one he called Darax. All he’s done is growl at the others and stomp around, pacing back and forth with the occasional glance in my direction.
I’m not entirely sure what to do. He can take care of himself, that much is clear, but something is bothering him. If what Lydia says is true, and I’ve no reason not to believe her, then he doesn’t want to let me go.
But also, he has agreed he’ll take me home.
“Dalox,” I eventually say after having watched him pace. “If you don’t want to come with me to meet the others, you don’t have to.”
“And leave you with the other warlords?” he growls, his eyes piercing. “I would rather eat my own tail.”
The unruly appendage waves behind him in a move reminiscent of a dinosaur movie I saw once. Only the spines, which lift up and then drop, are different.
“Okay,” I say carefully. “I don’t want this to bother you as much as it seems to, but I do need to speak to the other humans.”
“I appreciate your wishes,” Dalox rasps, smoke escaping from his nostrils. “I would want to speak to any Sarkarnii if I was in your position.”
“You would?”
“I can see you are a great leader among humans,” Dalox intones. “They listen to you, they want to help you, and they want to be with you.”
“Um…” I study him, attempting to gauge if he’s joking or not. “It doesn’t quite work like that for humans.”
“It doesn’t?” His tail continues to thrash. “You are an excellent fighter, and you care for your humans. Such qualities are considered leadership within Sarkarnii society.”
“For your females too?” I say, half laughing.
“Most of our leaders are female. We males are expected to prove ourselves to them, to gain their approval. My mother was one of members of the governing council, alongside with the mothers of many of the warlords you will meet. Today,” Dalox says through gritted teeth.
“I’m sorry,” I respond. “About your females.”
Dalox extends the claws on his hands and then curls them into a ball. I fear for his palms.
“It was a travesty which shouldn’t have happened. Neither should the mutations,” he says, his voice a baritone burr of pain. “The wormhole we navigated through should have been safe. It was not and that is on me.”
“How?”
“It was my job. I am the leader of the fleet. My decision. My fault.”
“And how were you supposed to know there was a problem with the wormhole?”
Dalox gives me a look which is probably a metaphorical pat on the head as a backwards species.
“My ship has…had…mapping and sensors. It did not detect a problem until it was too late.”
“What do you meanhad?”
