Dhal’at was practically the antithesis of Pentaba. I had grown used to air saturated with muggy moisture no matter the time of day. The morning had always greeted me with sun filtering through leafy branches, the marshes glinting their greetings. Sounds of bog-loving insects had lulled me to sleep at night. There was constantly a layer of mud on the soles of my shoes, sometimes even venturing up as high as my ankles, and it was impossible to walk anywhere outside the Polder Quarter without squelching. I had learned to love Pentaba for the ways it reminded me of my childhood home in Louisiana.

That wasn’t my life anymore.

Sweeping hills of coifed sand glaring in vivid gold to match my hair met me when I woke now. The white sun played no friendly games of hide-and-seek behind thick overhanging canopies anymore; instead, it seared down upon my skin like a branding iron, determined to turn me crimson and suck every last droplet of water from my body. When there was a breeze, it was not cool and relieving, but sweltering and suffocating. Even when I breathed in deeply, my lungs filling to their utmost capacity, I couldn’t get enough oxygen. And I was hot all the time.

To be fair, Dhal’at wasn’t a wasteland of a kingdom by any means. The outstretches of untouched desert were vast and isolated, but the colony in which we’d been housed was placed inside a well-populated and developed city known as Ka-li’ket. There were shops and offices and recreational facilities, as well as military barracks and a large infirmary, plus an abundance of fully-outfitted dormitories and well-furnished bubble houses—all just within the confines of the colony. We weren’t restricted to the colony, either, but encouraged to wander freely around Ka-li’ket, which was a wonder in itself.

While the colony was a palette of yellows and oranges and sun-faded pinks, Ka-li’ket was bright and colorful and mystical in a way. Much like the Merchant’s Boardwalk in Pentaba, there were booths lining the unmarked streets with vibrant silks draped from one to the next. Globular balls of light, which I were told were a form of geodes found in the underground mines were strung from each structure and glowed a rainbow of hues that lit up the sightless black night. The homes of Ka-li’ket civilians were an extravagant blend of angles and curves, some a mere single story and others towering four floors high, and their clay-like exteriors were adorned with brightly colored tapestries and beautiful desert flowers. The shops were equally as impressive. Most featured great arches as entrances rather than doors, and the sounds of shoppers, diners, and socializers could be heard bubbling from within. The most breathtaking sight in the entire city, however, was the Elder palace. It rose from the very center of the city with majestic grace and stretched so high in the sky that, at the height of the afternoon, it appeared to pierce the sun. While it was made of the same clay the homes and shops were made from, the clay had been colored, and the walls were like broad strokes of rich indigo, eye-catching chartreuse, sultry carmine, and electric aqua. As if that wasn’t enough, windows populated all sides with walk-out balconies dangling beneath each, and from the balconies hung sun-catchers of crystalline gemstones. The roof of the highest floor was domed and bright gold, not like the sand but metallic, and I was told the time of day could be judged at any given moment if one were to look at the way the sun hit the palace dome.

I had been bunked with Isabelle again, to my distinct pleasure. We were given one of the spherical bubble houses to share and given permission to decorate it as we saw fit. It took getting used to, as the walls were as round as the hall of P’otes-tat Ulti, but we soon were having fun wandering the streets of Ka-li’ket and browsing the booths for goods with which to dress up our new abode. There was always something to find. Ka-li’ket was the trade capital of Dhal’at, and merchants from all around Albaterra ventured there to either sell their goods or to trade for Dhal’atian resources. On one of our shopping trips, I learned about the angui, a species of Albaterran serpent so venomous it could kill every living creature on the planet, and so fast it could strike a sprinting warrior. Angui venom was considered a precious commodity around Albaterra, and many A’li-uud from other kingdoms were sent to Ka-li’ket to retrieve some from the angui farms that populated the city’s outskirts in exchange for their own native valuables. I purchased a vial to keep for emergencies using a bit of chunky currency Khrel provided me. After my experiences with the Novai, I had become much more cautious.

Several months had passed since the relocation from Pentaba, and Khrel had kept true to his word and accompanied me. He was not permitted to reside in the bubble house with Isabelle and me, but he was offered a suite inside the Elder palace. As a War Chief, he was considered a person of honor, and it was fascinating to see the way he was treated by other A’li-uud. There hadn’t been an opportunity to witness the exchanges civilians had with him in Pentaba, as I’d been holed up in his house for so long before everything went to hell in a handbasket, and I found myself hoping someone would speak to him or address him every time we walked through Ka-li’ket together.

“Greetings, Chief,” said a stooped, elderly merchant in English as we strode slowly past his booth. He grinned broadly at Khrel, revealing teeth with gaps between each, and held up what appeared to be a dress. “Could I interest you in a local garment for your female?”

Khrel nodded in greeting and moved to continue past without speaking, as he was wont to do to avoid being nabbed by every seller desperate to make a buck, but I paused. The dress was long and flowing with a form-fitting chest and an almost entirely open midsection, and it was gorgeous. The fabric looked shiny and silken beneath the sun’s pounding glare, and the scarlet dye was so luscious that the piece seemed to be alive as the skirt caught in the scorching breeze.

“You like it?” Khrel asked, coming to a stop as well and surveying the expression on my face as I ogled the gown.

I hesitated. It was so exquisite that “like” wasn’t a strong enough term, but I had never worn anything so elegant or revealing other than a bathing suit. “Yes,” I said tentatively.

He took a step back toward the booth. “What do you want for it?” he asked the vendor.

The A’li-uud, purplish-blue in color and nearly a full head shorter than Khrel due to the large hump in his back, shook his head and extended the dress to him. “She may have it, Chief.”

“Surely you want something,” Khrel said dubiously.

“No, no. You may take it,” the wizened male insisted. Khrel took the dress and folded it neatly over his arm as the merchant added, “If you are interested in anything else, please do not hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you,” Khrel replied, inclining his head deeply as a sign of great respect and gratitude. The merchant returned the gesture.

“Yes, thank you,” I said with a polite smile.

The merchant looked at me and bowed his head to me as well, then shuffled toward the back of the booth. I heard clanking and clutter like he was rifling through a stack of pots and pans. Khrel took my hand in his again, and we resumed walking.

“So, apparently, being War Chief means you get free stuff,” I joked. My shoes, which were actually knee-high boots provided by the Dhal’atians to the colonists, scraped on the sand-swept stone street as we strolled.

“There are many perks that come with the title,” Khrel agreed. “And, of course, many downsides.”

Since the trial, the climate of our relationship had changed. We spent most of our time together having conversations and exploring Ka-li’ket, but Khrel had receded into himself. He walked a little more rigidly, held his chin a little higher, and spoke with a harsh note in his tone. The amount of times he’d smiled since the relocation were countable on one hand, and I couldn’t recall hearing him laugh since Pentaba. Something about everything that had happened left him harder and closed off to the world, and I was beginning to find it difficult to tunnel my way through.

“You don’t need to be negative,” I scolded. “We’re having a nice day.”

He didn’t reply, and I felt the frustrations toward him I’d become all too familiar with over the past three months beginning to rise to the surface again. He was still the strong, sensitive, compassionate A’li-uud who’d rescued me twice, but he was also brooding and moody and quick to temper. I knew he wasn’t happy in Dhal’at and the only reason he stayed in the desert kingdom was because I was here. He insisted it was where he wanted to be, that he wanted to stay wherever I was, but I wasn’t naïve. My job had been to read people, and what he left unsaid screamed volumes.

“Do you have to meet with Kharid tonight?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

Khrel nodded. “Yes, I—”

His words were cut off as, without warning, a blast of green light ripped through the air and caught him in the chest, throwing him to the ground.