Chapter 5

I walked, back straight, chin raised, my hand tucked in Moranen’s arm. We glided down the hallway of the castle. Groups of women and Ak-hal passed us, their faces angled downward in respect. I was dressed that day in bright crimson silk, the color of blood, and the sleeves spilled over my hands. I wore a thick cloak, woven of soft, scarlet yarn. I was relieved to not be wearing the skin of a Kamani. My hair was pulled back into a tight bun beneath my sun-like crown. I had been wearing it so often that my neck ached from its weight. We were stopped by a raven-haired Ak-hal who had a young, haughty-looking woman hanging onto his arm.

“Moranen,” the Ak-hal greeted. “I see you have found your mate.”

“And you yours, Bahir,” Moranen said. You would think from their tone that they were discussing a new plaything. Baseball cards. Video games. I had to remind myself that those things didn’t exist here. I nodded to the other woman. She stared at me.

“This is Libba,” Bahir said. He wore the red sash of a noble. Libba looked at me with a delicate smile. She took her hand from Bahir’s arm, and transferred it to mine. We walked down the hall, in front of our soon-to-be mates.

“How do you like it here?” she asked me. She seemed as cold as an Ak-hal. Immediately, I mistrusted her.

“Not at all,” I replied honestly, testing her loyalty. She looked at me, her eyebrow crooked.

“You will,” she said confidently. “Everyone ends up liking it.”

“How do you know?”

“Who wouldn’t jump at the chance for immortality?” she shrugged. “My new dresses are beautiful and Bahir treats me like a princess. He has promised me that I will always be dripping with jewels.”

We had entered the great hall filled with circular tables. There was one off to the side, where a bunch of women sat in total silence. I looked at them, frowning. Libba noticed.

“Those are the ones without mates,” she said disdainfully. “They have nothing that is worth the Ak-hal’s time.”

“Then why were they taken?” It seemed pointless, a waste of innocent lives. I sat down at a table beside Libba. She unfolded the cloth napkin set on her plate, pressing it flat in her lap with a flourish.

“It must have been a mistake,” she shrugged. It clearly didn’t concern her that it might easily have been her sitting at that table.

“But five of them?” I said incredulously. I looked over at Moranen. “Why haven’t they found mates?”

“It happens,” he replied vaguely.

“Shouldn’t they be sitting with the Ak-hal? Shouldn’t they at least be trying?” I was unnerved. Moranen looked at me impassively.

“There are always a few who are executed before the mating,” he said. “It just happens.” Our breakfast was brought to us by a woman dressed in fine silks, a large white apron covering her front. I had been instructed, in one of my daily sessions with Sarita that I wasn’t to speak to her. As a new member of the royal family, others were now below me. The serving women were mates to lower Ak-hal—foot soldiers. It was of the utmost importance to the Ak-hal that everyone had a mate. Their whole campaign against the Kamani was dependent upon their growing numbers.

She placed a plate of strange meat and sweet bread in front of me. A small bowl of something looking and tasting of yogurt, encircled by different cut fruits. It was colorful, pleasing to the eye.

Outside of the large window, a massive body lumbered by. I sat up, enthralled, my mouth dropping open. It was my first glance at the Ak-hal when in dragon form. It had a massive triangular-shaped reptilian head perched on a long, sinuous neck. Its body was long and muscular, and its wings were like the fabric of an umbrella stretched upon its thin spokes. Its scales were white—iridescent in the sunlight. Its tail dragged loudly behind it.

“You look like a fish,” Libba said archly. I had the distinct feeling that she wanted to add “an ugly one” to that sentence, but didn’t dare in front of the crown prince.

“It’s breathtaking,” I replied.

“You shouldn’t talk about an Ak-hal who isn’t your mate in that manner,” Moranen said darkly. I glanced over at him in surprise.

“I’m sorry,” I gasped. “I didn’t know.”

“Now you do,” he said simply, yet with menace in his voice. I looked down at my plate, chastised. I picked up my fork, filling it with a tiny bite of food and placing it into my mouth. I chewed delicately. Sarita had warned me—everything must be done with grace and elegance, no matter how hungry or uncomfortable I might be. We had sat in her personal chambers, first thing, every morning. She taught me things that I hadn’t learned while in stasis. Her teachings basically amounted to this: nothing must disturb the Ak-hal. If their ire was raised, it could spell my end in a fiery inferno. In the world of the Ak-hal, there was no sickness. There was no aging. There was only a fight to remain calm at all costs. That, and to produce more of the Ak-hal. They wanted to take over the planet that we were on, Shakal. They wanted it for its resources, which the Kamani controlled. Ak-hal were strong, but they were small in numbers. The Kamani, it seemed, had numbers.

As I sat in silence, eating, I thought about who I’d been on Earth. I had been a high school teacher in my small town. I’d taught English. I hadn’t made the best salary, but I’d owned my own small house and had been quite content to live quietly with my books. I hadn’t wanted to get married. From a young age, it had never appealed to me. While I had dated, nothing had ever seemed permanent. Not one of my exes could have made me an offer that I couldn’t refuse. It wasn’t commitment that had been my issue—it had been compromise. They had all wanted me to compromise—go to a game, or a party, when I’d just have rather to curl up in bed with a book. A cat would have suited me better.

Now, I would be married, against not only my character, but my better judgment, as well. I was to become a royal brood mare. The bleak idea of my new reality, barely a week in, already stifled me. I didn’t know what to do—I was only alone when in my room, when I was sleeping. I got ready for the day in the same large bathroom as all the other women, and then I was sent from person to person, spending my day with either Moranen, silently clutching his arm as he went about his business, or sitting across from Sarita, listening to everything that I must do to be as crown princess of the Ak-hal.

Beside me, Moranen stood, finished with his breakfast. He held out his hand to me—his signal that it was time to go. I glanced at my plate mournfully. I had barely cleared a fraction of it, and I was still hungry. Quelling my sigh before it left me, I placed my hand in his, letting him pull me out of my seat. I looked over at Libba, who stared at me with jealousy. I recognized in her the same moral values as Sarita—power and prestige were everything to them.

“It was lovely to meet you,” I lied with a smile. I was getting quite good at it.

“And you,” she replied coolly. If looks could kill, I’d be a corpse on the blue stone floor. Moranen whisked me off. We had a council meeting to attend, in which I would sit silently beside him. If there was one thing that I had learned during my time with the Ak-hal, I no longer had an opinion.

We glided through the halls of the castle. I was starting to learn my way through the very similar-looking halls. There was a pattern to them—that of an interlocking spiral, the center of which were the main hall, the rooms belonging to the royals, and the War Room, as I called it. The set up was wildly confusing. I imagined that this was for anyone who got in—they would never find their way out through the maze.

We made our way to the War Room. Moranen opened the intricately carved mithrim door, holding it open for me. I stepped inside. It was entirely white, as the Ak-hal preferred. There was a long table, at which sat twelve Ak-hal nobles wearing their red sashes. I was the only woman there. I sat down to the left of Moranen, who sat at one end of the table. His father, Sarita on his arm, entered after us. They sat down at the other end.

“What are your plans, my son?” the king asked.

“We are to attack two days after the mating ceremony,” Moranen replied. “A delegation of the Kamani are to attend the mating ceremony. They seek to make a peace treaty with us; peace in exchange for access to the resources that we desire.” That sounded better to me than war and a hostile takeover. I noticed Sarita shooting me a warning look.

“We are to make them feel welcomed,” Moranen continued. “We are to sign the treaty and then send them back to their people. They will let their guard down. That will be the perfect time to act.” My stomach churned. I felt like I needed to do something. The king nodded.

“We will attack two days after the mating ceremony,” he agreed. “We will rain fire down upon their ice caves. Despite not knowing them, I wanted to save the Kamani. But I couldn’t even save myself—I couldn’t even speak.