entrance,” VELMA announced in my helmet. “It appears they are coming for you.”
I’d just led CeCe into an alcove outside the Great Hall. Kathe. As soon as they saw my empty cell, they would lock down my ship. But if I made my presence known elsewhere, they would ignore my ship, and CeCe could escape.
“This is the most dangerous part,” I said. “There is no other way into the hangar but through this vast hall. Your armor has stealth capability, but it is better suited to a jungle environment. You will still cast a shadow; therefore, you must choose your path with care.”
Already, grief surged over me like a rogue wave. We weren’t heart mates, but I was loath to part with her.
“But you’ll follow, right?” she asked, and I imagined I heard longing in her question. Impossible; we had only just met.
“Make haste if you want to live!” I said and let impatience and anger color my voice. “Take my ship; VELMA will direct you. If you are caught, all is lost.”
Cursing our helmets silently, I peered into her black visor and recalled the beauty of her coal-fired eyes, molten brown and adoring when she first opened them to see me. I would never forget her eyes.
“Go!”
She nodded once, and then her armor wavered and disappeared before my eyes.
At once relieved and devastated, I returned to the corridor and chose the route leading to the dungeon stairwell; I had jotiks to divert their attention away from the hangar and my ship.
If guards were tasked with retrieving me, then the Ikma Scabmal Kama must have decided on a punishment. With memories of CeCe’s raxfathe fresh in my mind, my steps faltered, but I renewed my pace and found the empty holding cell used for minor indiscretions and debtors. Sliding in and drawing the barred door closed, I gripped the bars and shouted, hoping nearby guards would hurry.
Pounding steps echoed from down the hall, and my shoulders relaxed.
“Are you trying to starve me to death?” I growled. “I haven’t been fed since yesterday.”
“You’re not supposed to be here,” one guard said, his surly voice loud in the almost empty hallway.
“By all means, let me go,” I said and shook the bars.
The other guard cocked his head and looked back at the way they had come. “I heard shouting from the dungeon. They must have misplaced him.”
That one trotted down the hall and disappeared around the corner while the surly one stayed behind and studied my armor.
“We haven’t had meat in eighteen days, Iktheka,” he spat out my title like a curse.
Leaning closer, I rested my helmet against the bars. “Then perhaps you had better ask your Queen to open the hunt.”
At my mention of the Queen, he blanched and stepped back, refusing to meet my eyes. His behavior told me all I needed to know about the current state of affairs among the fortress guard. Blame was cast on the hunters rather than the Kama, but they knew. They knew.
Voices heralded the arrival of the dungeon guards and seeing me, they broke out into a heated argument with the fortress guards. I saw the one I’d smote and sat onto a bench; they accused him of sleeping on his watch.
Interrupting the chaos, I banged my forearm against the metal bars. “Does the Queen await me?” Startled out of their bickering, they focused on me.
So far, I hadn’t heard alarms from the hangar; CeCe should be in my ship now, and VELMA would know the safest time to launch.
When the dungeon guards unlocked my cell, a warm peace settled in my gut. They escorted me to the throne room, and I knew I was slotted to die. But I had not lived in vain, having sired a son who would bear my lineage, and having looked into the eyes of my heart mate so long ago, and I would not die in vain, having released CeCe—the boldest and most breathtaking female I’d ever seen—from her prison of pain. My only regret was to die without knowing the cause of the infant burial disease, but I had faith that Amity would soon decipher its meaningless pattern and reverse its terror upon my people.
Entering the throne room, I saw that someone had carried the Ikma Scabmal Kama to her throne, unless she had managed on her own. BoKama’s throne sat empty, and I swallowed a stone. Where was she?
“Raxthezana,” the Queen said, her voice hale if her body was not. “You will excuse my Sister-Queen, as she is ill.”
I bowed my head, if not in respect to the Ikma, then at least out of respect for her office and the BoKama.
“Remove his helmet,” she said, and one of the guards stepped close enough to do it, though I smelled his fear, and it pleased me. The Ikthekal had a reputation among our people, even among the armed guards of the fortress.
“Have you decided my punishment?” I asked once my helmet sat at my feet.
The Ikma Scabmal Kama stood upright in a smooth motion and her voice gathered like storm clouds in the room. “You do not address your Queen until commanded!”
Her fury drove all of us back a step, and I marveled at the change from only days ago. Where before she appeared frail and zatiks away from death, now she seemed strong and forbidding.
I held my tongue.
“You will join my WarGuard to Ikthe,” she said, holding my gaze. When I betrayed nothing of my thoughts, she continued. “Draw First Blood. On sight-capture. And I will restore your station as Iktheka.”
Bowing my head, I said nothing.
“Speak,” she said, resuming her seat.
Schooling my features, I considered her punishment. It lacked her usual inventiveness. It mirrored her last failed attempt on the hunters’ lives with one exception. Of course, she failed to specify whose blood would be drawn first; I could smite any of her WarGuard and fulfill the obligation. We had but to compromise the WarGuard and seize their ship, and we would once again have the advantage. How did the Ikma not see it for the weak punishment that it was? She held no power on Ikthe. And the power she held on this planet faded with her health.
“As you command,” I said.
“Do you think I am a lackwit?” she said, tilting her head.
Frowning, I kept silent. What game was she playing at?
“I would be a fool to unleash you on Ikthe once more,” she said. “But perhaps a leash is all I need.” She turned to one of the dungeon guards. “Bring me the prisoner found in the War Room.”
I couldn’t conceal the shock in time; I saw the moment the Ikma’s nostrils flared and caught the scent.
Eyes snapping back to me, she pushed herself to standing, her arms trembling with the effort. Her strength of moments ago had leached out, though a weak Ikma enraged with fury was still to be feared. Mouth dry and pulse racing, I waited.
“I smell your anxiety,” she said and stepped nearer, though she remained on the dais. “You only smelt of hubris until I mentioned my prisoner. Why is that?”
“My Queen holds all power over our lives,” I said, appealing to her vanity. “I fear how you choose to wield it.”
She smirked.
“Very prettily stated, but your anxiety is only a fraction of what it will be when I collar you with the entrails of our common enemy,” she said and stared at me, glancing at the entryway when the sound of running boots echoed through the corridor.
Dread stiffened my spine, and I clenched my fists.
The guard ran to the dais and knelt before raising his head to meet the Queen’s questioning gaze.
“The War Room is empty, Ancient One,” he said. “The bonds were severed.”
The Ikma Scabmal Kama said nothing, but locked eyes with me when she approached, holding her hand out to the guard that he might aid her descent.
“You knew,” she said, her foul breath hot in my face. “But how could you know?” Her black stare sought the other guard in the room but returned to me when she saw his blank expression. “I have done with these games,” she hissed. “I do not have time for mysteries and intrigues, traitors and aliens!”
The strike came out of nowhere. At one jotik, the Queen was hunched and haggard, and at the next, she was swinging a weapon at my head.