Clara

After Rathorin walks away I stand, waiting for what I don't know, disconnected with reality. Did that just happen?

Taking a deep breath, I try to calm myself so I can focus and think everything through. One thing is clear. I can't be with Rathorin. I should have believed what he's been showing me all along, that he's not a good person. It has nothing to do with cultural differences or miscommunication of any kind. He enjoys the power he wields, enjoys crushing other people with it, watching them squirm. Calling him a sociopath isn’t being too extreme.

Fuck.

What am I going to do? Do I even stay on this planet, let alone in House Ti'ana? I want to explore the burgeoning feelings I have for Drevakin, but he hasn't made any kind of overtures for an actual relationship. Two hot encounters don't amount to anything.

If I want to go back to Earth, how do I go about doing that? Do I try to get back to the Celestial Mates office and attempt to pull the plug on this whole thing? I don't even know if I can make it there on my own. I made the trip from there to here only once while I was still in a daze from the teleportations it took get to Alva.

And there weren't a lot of identifiable landmarks to go by, anyway. I'm more likely to get hopelessly lost in the maze of underground tunnels. If I have to take that risk, I will, but it most definitely isn't ideal. I scrub at my face with both hands, feeling trapped, angry, and a bunch of other things I can't even put my finger on, but they aren't good.

All right.

I need to get a handle on what needs to be done because now I have a concrete deadline. Tonight. No way I'm letting that asshole put his hands on me. I leave the room and go out into the hall, intending to go back to my room when Rathorin's voice comes from his study. He's talking to someone else.

Frowning, I creep closer, straining to catch what's going on. There's a chance it might affect my plans.

"Are you certain this is a wise decision, my Prince?" a man asks, his tone respectful and wary.

It’s obvious how careful he's being. Definitely a man who's had experience with Rathorin.

"Did I ask for your input?" Rathorin asks, his voice cold.

"No, my Prince," the man murmurs.

"Drevakin has insulted me and this House with his accusations. And now he has set his eyes on my mate. Unacceptable! Do you think these transgressions are minor?" he demands.

This is not heading in a direction I like.

"No, my Prince," the man murmurs again.

I almost feel sorry for the guy.

"I want this matter taken care of right away. He should be nearby still. I do not want him to reach House Lo'ara. And I do not want news of this to reach anyone else. Do you understand?"

My heart beats faster, but a calm washes over me as it becomes crystal clear what my next step has to be.

Lo'ara. I've heard the name before.

There's nothing else I need to hear. It's enough. Slipping down the hall I make my way to my room, changing into the jeans, t-shirt, and boots I brought with me before pulling out an outer robe to layer on top. The jeans will still draw attention, but there’s no way I'm running after Drevakin in one of these gowns. And I am going after him.

The main reason he's become a target for Rathorin's rage is because of me. Because of my inability to keep my hands off of him. Whether Drevakin wants more with me or not is a moot point. He's in danger and I won't let them hurt him without trying to help. Especially not because of my own actions. It isn't right.

Once I'm dressed, I put my ear to the door and listen.

Quiet.

I open it and slip out. I need to make one stop before I leave the House Mansion. Turning away from the front door, I head deeper in, toward a room I've visited during my wanderings and make it there without incident.

Closing the door behind me, I survey the weapons hanging on the walls. Swords, knifes, bows and arrows. There's a plethora of ornately carved, bejeweled and delicate weapons on display, covering almost every available inch of the walls. Here's to hoping they aren't just decorative.

I grab a knife and weigh it in my hand, testing the edge before slipping it back into its scabbard and tying it around my waist with the attached belt. Roaming an eye over the swords, I decide to pass. I have no experience with them apart from the plastic light saber I had as a kid, and I'm sure that doesn't count. I'd end up chopping off my hand or something.

There's a beautifully carved staff on the other side of the room, made of a light tan material that looks like wood. I lift it off the brackets it rests on and test its balance, the weight of it, how it swings.

Not bad, but what I wouldn't do for my gun right about now. I sigh. Good enough. No point in weighing myself down any more. Going to the door I put my ear against it and listen. I wait a moment, and just when I'm about to leave, footsteps approach.

Shit.

I look back at the room. There's nowhere to hide. The entire space is dedicated to displaying the weapons on the walls. I hold my breath, wondering if this is as far as I get. The footsteps draw closer. And closer. My hands sweat.

The footsteps move past the door. Letting out my held breath in a rush I wait another thirty seconds before leaving the room and making my way to the front door. I'm almost there when the familiar young maid turns a corner. Seeing each other we freeze in an abrupt stop, staring.

There's no pretending I'm not up to something. I'm wearing jeans and carrying a staff with a long knife tied around my waist.

This is it. I'm not getting any farther. The maid looks over her shoulder and scurries down the hall toward me.

"Go! He's occupied, you must leave at once!"

"What?" I ask, gaping.

She grabs me by the arm and drags me to the door. "Go!"

I open it, the urgency in her voice snapping me out of my stunned response.

"Thank you," I murmur as I step out.

She gives me a shy smile as she closes the door behind me. I hover in the somewhat protected doorway, knowing I don't have any time to hesitate. What orders has Rathorin given to the people who work for him?

Are they supposed to tell him if I leave, try to stop me?

I take a deep breath and stride out, figuring acting confident will make people at least hesitate before they try to intercept me. A few of the household staff are in the courtyard and a some give me concerned looks, but nobody tries to stop me. I'll take it.

I quickly decide not to steal a carriage from his stables. It would force me to talk to someone and they might try to figure out where I'm going. I've noticed that people who are visiting the House park their carriages out by the border wall. I'm hoping there's at least one of those I can take.

Stealing isn't something I'm comfortable with, but these aren't usual circumstances. It's a risk, but this whole damn plan is a risk.

Slipping into the crowd in the marketplace, I’m less exposed with so many people obscuring anyone's view of me. I draw a few curious glances, but nothing too bad as I weave my way in and out. Pausing when I reach the border wall, I scan the length of it.

There are two carriages. I eye the juntta attached to one of them and I swear it eyes me back with a wary gaze. I look at the other one. It looks like it's almost asleep on its feet. I look back at the other one, its attention still focused on me.

Okay. First one it is.

I approach, bold with no time for caution. It would draw attention I don't want, anyway. When I reach it, I climb onto the carriage and take the reins. For the first time in my life, I wish I'd been posh enough to at least know how to ride a horse. I don't know how much it would help me here, but it would be better than nothing.

"Let's do this," I mutter to myself, taking a moment to glance out at the crowd for anyone that looks like they're pursuing me.

Nothing yet. Like a complete and utter idiot, I flick the reins like I've seen people do and wait. And wait some more. No response. The juntta turns its head to look at me with one sly eye.

It’s kind of like this thing is fucking with me. Just my luck to get one with an attitude.

"I don't have time for this," I mutter.

I try clicking and flicking at the same time. It twitches slightly, but then settles down again. That's it. Time for an old school approach.

Leaning forward, I slap it on its rear, the carapace harder than I thought it would be under my palm. I let out a squeak as it leaps forward, bracing myself with my feet at the sudden motion. Cursing under my breath the whole time, I steer it toward the gates at least, going at a full sprint.

The guards on the wall yell something and the gate starts to close. I'm guessing they've noticed it's me. No going back. Now or never.

One-quarter closed.

Half-way closed.

Three-quarters...

The juntta flies through the crack and I wince as the side of the carriage scrape loudly against the gate on the way through the rapidly narrowing opening.

But we make it through.

"Good job," I praise the juntta, figuring it deserves it, bad attitude or not.

I’m exposed while we sprint across the flat, open area between the brightly lit tunnel and the border wall, almost holding my breath the entire way. There’s a commotion behind me, but when I look back, nobody is in pursuit.

At least, not yet. I make it across and into the cover of the tunnel.

The lights are much brighter here than what I've become accustomed to in the House Mansion and the village, but it becomes dim again at the other end of the tunnel.

The sounds of a fight echoes down the tunnel walls.

"Come on," I shout, flicking the reins again and closing one eye so I'll be better able to adjust to the dimmer lighting coming up.

The juntta speeds up again at the urging, the sides of the tunnel blurring pass me. I come barreling out of the tunnel on the other side and open my closed eye, trying to get a read of the situation. The juntta veers around the fray blocking the path forward.

Rathorin's men surround Drevakin. There are about fifteen of them, counting the two already lying on the ground. Too many for one man to fight, even Drevakin who's holding them off with sword and knife, his movements fast and efficient.

He's good. Really good.

I bring the juntta to a halt on the other side of the melee and vault down with staff in hand. Two against the remaining thirteen is still not a fair fight, but I'm not going to stand by while they kill him. If that means I'm going down too, there are worse ways to go.

As I near the loose, spread out circle around Drevakin, the guy nearest me turns but not quick enough, almost like he doesn't see me as a threat. It could hurt my feelings if I cared. He takes a step toward me and I use the staff to sweep him off his feet in a not so romantic way.

I mean, unless he's into that kind of thing, I guess.

A controlled tap to the head, and he's knocked out. One more down. The rest will be much more difficult now that they've seen I can take someone down.

Not hitting with more force might come back to haunt me later, but I can't bring myself to kill the guy when he's just following orders. With no time to spare worrying about it, I run through the opening to Drevakin's side.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, the censure in his voice clear even though he's out of breath.

"I thought you might need help."

He shakes his head, glaring at me. "You shouldn't have come. I don't know if they'll spare you, even if you are Rathorin's. After all, they can always blame whatever happens to you on me."

Good to know. I notice there's another one down to the side. Four down. Eleven more and they all look fresh and spry. And damn angry. I would have doubted they would go easy on me even before Drevakin said it.

Drevakin and I move into a back-to-back formation as a few more guys come in at us. The staff doesn't let me down. It's well made and strong. I block a hard sword strike from a stocky guy and the force of it reverberates through my body. The staff has only a slight notch where the blade hit it. Impressive. I look up and the guy has a perplexed look on his face. I guess he wasn't expecting the staff to hold up either.

Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, I hit him in the midsection with the end of the staff, aiming it so he's doubled over and out of breath. As I'm calculating a non-fatal shot to take him down, he swipes at me with his knife from his doubled over position, cutting through the thigh of my jeans and slicing a shallow cut into the skin underneath.

Damn it.

These are the only jeans I have!

I hit the back of his head with my staff and he goes down with a grunt. I look back as Drevakin swings his sword in a hard, two-handed grip, cutting halfway through his opponent's body, the blade only stopping as it hits spine.

The sword makes a terrible squelching noise as Drevakin jerks it back out, the entire length coated in blood and gore. I swallow hard, bile rising in my throat as I turn away to take care of another guy coming at me. I need to strengthen my stomach.

These guys aren't trying to play around here. I block everything else out as I fight, my muscles burn with the exertion. Drevakin's breathing is coming faster behind me and I know we can't hold out against this many people for much longer.

They can rest, but we can't. My arms are aching as I'm forced to block once again attack after attack. No matter how strong I am, these guys are just bigger. Even the smallest of them is huge. It takes every ounce of muscle and every drop of adrenaline I have to stop a blow with a direct block. I know I can't do it forever.

Drevakin grunts then there’s the sound of flesh thudding against flesh. He can't keep this up either. If this is how I go out, I know it's better than having to stay with Rathorin. With that grim thought, I throw everything I have into the fight.

I take down the guy in front of me and brace for someone else to appear, just as they have been for what seems like an eternity. But nobody does.

No one’s moving.

I know it wasn't all of them. Not even with Drevakin's skill. Frowning, I turn back to look at his grim, blood splattered face. His eyes aren't even on the men still arranged around us. They're focused somewhere past them, at something in the shadows. Just as the men's attention isn't on us anymore.

What...

Something snarls. A low, animalistic sound and I shiver. It doesn't sound like any creature I've ever heard before.

"Drevakin?" I murmur, my stomach dropping.

He reaches back and grips my forearm almost painfully tight. There's a movement out of the corner of my eye. A low, crouched figure, moving fast.

I turn to follow the flash when there’s another.

And another.

And another.

Milky white eyes stare back at me, glinting in the dark. There's a flash of over-sized fangs and the click of sharp claws on rock, as hunched over humanoid bodies, filthy, caked with dirt, blood, and more encircle us.

Shit.

What are they?

I'm frozen as one leaps out of the group, the musculature of its lean body well defined as it tackles one of our attackers.

The man's scream turns into a disturbing gurgle as the creature opens its jaws wide and bites into his throat. Worrying at it like a dog, the sound of flesh ripping reaches us as it yanks its head back, tearing the guy's throat out.

It turns to look at the rest of us, its horrific face covered in fresh blood.

Then all hell breaks loose.