Liorax:

The next afternoon, three huge shadows fill the sky. Dragons. One of them is Rezzix—his shimmering orange dragon is instantly recognizable—but the other two are strangers.

They touch down in the clearing and shimmer back to men, and the moment Dariux looks at them, his face goes red with anger. “I asked for the scientist,” he snarls at Rezzix. “What have you brought instead?”

One of the men is familiar to me. His face tugs at my memory, and I nudge Zunix. “Who is he?”

“That,” Zunix says, looking intrigued, “is Zorux und Saarex ab Rykiel. I wonder what he’s doing here.”

The two men draw themselves to their full heights. “You want hostages, Midborn?” Zorux bites off, his voice clipped and commanding. “We’re here to offer ourselves up. Send Arax and Nyx home. Thrax and I will take their place.”

“I’m not interested in the Lord of a minor holding in the Northern Wilds,” Dariux retorts angrily. “If you wish to negotiate for the Firstborn, you need to offer something of value.” He looks around and sees everyone staring at him, some with frowns on their faces. “Let us discuss this privately.”

Dariux knows he’s losing control. His plot is unraveling. He does not look or sound like a man negotiating for the survival of his people, and people are starting to pay attention. The blind panic has died down, and the Draekons in the camp are using their reason again.

But the man has always been able to slither his way out of trouble and position the situation to his best advantage. He’s done it before, and he’ll do it again. It does not pay to underestimate Dariux.

The two Draekons—Zorux and Thrax—follow Dariux to the mansion. Zunix falls in line behind them, signaling for Olivia and me to join him. “We need to stay close to this,” he says under his breath.

We follow them into the large meeting area, and it’s only when we’re in the room that Dariux appears to notice us. His eyes narrow with displeasure, but his first words are reserved for the newcomers. “Where is the scientist? Why have you not brought her? Were my instructions not clear?”

“She’s gone,” Thrax says bluntly. “One of your exiles captured our mate and the scientist. The scientist escaped. We haven’t seen her in three days.” His expression hardens. “This same man tried to take our mate by force, and Ryanna was left with no alternative other than to kill him. Is this what you have become in exile?”

I lean forward. The threads are slowly gathering into place. “Your mate killed Jorix?”

The Lord of Rykiel nods. “It was self-defense. We saw it.”

“Raiht’vi is gone?” Dariux stands up abruptly, and his chair crashes to the floor. “You let her escape?” I’ve never heard him sound more furious in my life. “This negotiation is over. Arax and his pair-bond aren’t going anywhere, not unless you fetch me the scientist.”

“Or what?” I bite out. “You can’t transform. How long do you think you can control the others?”

Olivia squeezes my hand. “Dariux,” she says. “As we say on Earth, this is a shitshow. You healed my leg with your med-kit, and I’m grateful, and because of that, I’m going to offer you a way out.”

* * *

Olivia:

The perfect negotiation, Roman used to say, involves both parties feeling miserable and hard-done-by. I’d always thought that, even by Roman’s standards, that was excessively cynical.

Except I saw it in action yesterday when Zunix negotiated with Herrix for my life.

My two mates can’t move against Dariux. They promised him their cooperation in this matter. On the other hand, I can.

Dariux wants something. What is it? Not a clue.

But he’s looking for answers from Raiht’vi, and every instinct in my body—see Roman? I do listen to my instincts—tells me that he’s looking for something that only a high-ranking scientist would know.

We can’t produce Raiht’vi, but we have something almost as good. Zunix has a copy of the Spymaster’s ThoughtVaults. And if this Spymaster dude is anything like the CIA, he’s got the dirt that Dariux is looking for.

Zunix leans back in his chair, a smile on his face. “Do you trust me?” I whisper to him as Dariux gathers breath to answer.

“With my life, little human.”

My insides warm. They see me, they trust me. And I’m going to make them proud.

I look up at Dariux. “The others are starting to figure it out,” I tell him. “Arax was never a threat to the camp. You are. What do you think they’ll do to you when they find out you’ve been lying to them all along?”

Dariux gives me a bored look. “You must think me a fool, Olivia Buckner,” he says. “You don’t think I have contingency plans in place for this situation?”

He might be bluffing, but I don’t think so. Dariux is as wily as a fox, and if I go toe-to-toe with him, I’m not sure I’ll win. I’m handicapped by the fact that I don’t want anyone to get hurt, and Dariux has no such scruples.

“Raiht’vi is missing. Somewhere in the jungle. You have a skimmer and the ability to track her.”

He shakes his head. “Not good enough.”

I survey the man. He’s on the verge of completely losing his shit. He hadn’t reacted when he found out that Herrix and Belfox had been assembling a spaceship in secret, but I know that’s got to be pissing him off. Now, Raiht’vi is missing.

But underneath the rage, Dariux has always been coldly logical. Right now, I’m counting on that. “I’ll throw in something else,” I add persuasively. “Zunix will give you his ThoughtVault.”

Dariux’s gaze snaps to Zunix. “Really?”

I hold my breath. I’m taking a risk here. I’m taking a chance that Zunix will be more concerned with our future than his past. Will he give up his ThoughtVault, his one remaining tie back to his homeworld?

“Olivia speaks for me,” he confirms calmly.

Dariux’s eyes narrow. “What do you want in exchange?”

“You let everyone go.”

He considers the offer. The possibility of finding Raiht’vi. Unfettered access to the ThoughtVaults, without the need to cover his tracks. Take the deal, Dariux, I urge silently. It’s the only way out. The alternative is war.

The silence stretches out, and finally, he nods curtly and gives me a grudging smile. “You negotiate like you were born on the homeworld, human.” I take that for the compliment it’s meant to be. “Done. We have a deal.”