Kharid’s palace was much different from Sevani’s. There were bright, attention-grabbing colors everywhere, from the tapestries hanging on the walls to the walls themselves. While most Elder palaces had spacious and sparsely-furnished foyers, Kharid’s was laden with puffy pillow seats and thickly-cushioned benches. There was no fireplace in the entrance, either, which was reasonable given the relentless heat of Dhal’at.

The rest of the palace was as lavishly decorated as the foyer, and, though I had been living in one of the many suites for months now, I still was not accustomed to the extravagance. In many ways, I preferred Pentaba. It was more functional, more secure, and easier on the eyes. No matter one’s preference, however, it could not be denied that Kharid’s palace was comfortable.

When I entered the oblong room that served as a meeting hall, however, all semblance of comfort was lost. Kharid sat at the head of a very long table upon which an exorbitant number of knick-knacks were sprawled, and sitting beside him was Sevani. Neither spoke as I walked in, but they stared at me unabashedly until I had taken my seat opposite Sevani.

I did not yet know the reason why I had been summoned to the palace. When Zuran first told me, I assumed it had something to do with the spectacle made between Ola and me. Seeing Sevani present in Dhal’at chased that notion from my mind, and I began to feel tension rising in my chest. Though the trial was over and the vote had been taken, I had not been able to shake the paranoia that the aftermath of the events in Pentaba had not met me. Sitting across from my Elder in a kingdom on the opposite side of the planet was enough to convince me that my paranoia had been well-founded.

“Khrel,” Kharid said, speaking A’li-uud in his Dhal’atian accent. “The time has come for some decisions to be made.”

His hands were folded on the table before him. As always, he appeared pensive, like he was deep in thought and far from surfacing. When he spoke, it was almost mournful. He sounded as though he regretted saying the words, or perhaps he regretted what was about to come.

“I am afraid I do not understand,” I admitted. It was difficult to portray indifference with my fluttering stomach, but I did my best.

Sevani drew in a breath, and Kharid motioned to him, offering him the opportunity to take over speaking. “I named you War Chief because you deserved it, Khrel,” Sevani said slowly. He, too, appeared to be thinking deeply. “You were the best warrior in your class. You worked hard to excel and push yourself. Your loyalty was unwavering, and I can attest as an Elder that certain dedication is a priceless trait.”

They were building up to something; I could feel it. I tried to refrain from interrupting, but I was already experiencing a stew of mixed emotions, primarily anger and reluctant hurt.

“I allowed you to accompany the colonists to Dhal’at because I recognized the importance to you,” Sevani went on. “You care for the human.” My gaze sharpened, and he corrected, “Lena. I have no intention to separate you from her if that is not your wish. However…” He held up a single finger. “If you wish to continue in your role as War Chief, you will have to make a choice.”

Kharid did not move or speak, but I could see the agreement on his face. “What choice is that?” I asked coolly.

“You must either return to Pentaba and fulfill your War Chief duties,” Sevani said, “or you may remain in Dhal’at with Lena as a civilian.”

All of the air left the room. I could not breathe. My lungs refused to fill, and my throat began to narrow. I whipped my eyes to Kharid, but he merely gazed back at me apologetically. His sympathy was of no reassurance to me. I was being presented with a decision I felt utterly unequipped to make. How was I to choose between Pentaba and Lena? That was not a choice; that was a death of my soul no matter which direction I went.

“I have dedicated my life to Pentaba,” I hissed, my temper rising faster than the tide. “Everything, everything, of myself has gone into the people, the warriors, the kingdom, you. That is all I know.”

“We understand, Khrel,” Kharid responded for Sevani. “But there are circumstances that must be handled, and you are unable to do so from Dhal’at.”

“I would not begrudge you if you decided to remain in Ka-lik’et. Xam is prepared and fully capable of taking the promotion if you cannot leave Lena behind,” Sevani added.

My body felt like it was no longer mine. I was dreaming, floating above the scene and looking down upon Kharid’s peacefully clasped hands and Sevani’s rigid posture and my own horrified expression. Never had it occurred to me there would come a day I would have to step down for any reason other than retirement. But not once since I had realized my feelings for Lena had I thought myself capable of letting her go.

“What am I to do if I remain here?” I demanded. “As a civilian? All of my skills are militant.”

“I would be happy to have you join our troops,” Kharid offered quickly.

“That would mean demoting several ranks,” I pointed out.

Kharid nodded. “Yes, it would. I am sorry, Khrel, but I cannot release my War Chief from his title for you to take his place. But, as I say, you are more than welcome to become a Dhal’atian warrior.”

“What about the Novai?” I pressed, looking between the two Elders for even the slightest sign of relenting. “How do you intend to handle the Novai?”

“There have been several rogues in your absence,” Sevani said. “The warriors returned them to camp without a problem. There has yet to be an incident of violence.”

Suddenly, raw understanding coursed through me. “Is that what this is about?” I asked hoarsely. “You believe the violence that happened with the Novai was my fault? You think I am the catalyst for their aggression and hostility?”

Kharid immediately began shaking his head and exclaiming that he certainly did not feel that way, but Sevani leaned back in his chair and looked at me calculatingly. Every inch of my body burned with rage, not only for the position I was being put in but also for the unspoken accusations being made. I seethed silently as I waited for Sevani to speak up.

“I trust you know me better than that,” he finally said. I could denote irritation under his words. “If I had felt that way, I would have been the one to suggest you accompany the colonists to Dhal’at. The rogue Novai were never your fault, just as they are not your fault now. I fear, however, that should you return and another incident occurs, you will find the Council much less sympathetic to your circumstances. It is likely the Novai would not be so understanding, either. I do not wish that upon you.”

“It sounds like you believe I can no longer handle the risks of doing my job,” I growled.

“You are hearing what you want to hear to justify remaining War Chief without leaving Dhal’at,” Sevani retorted.

The air, already too warm for comfort, was stifling as my blood raced through my veins. I could hear it pounding in my ears like a drum—bang, bang, bang, bang—but I could not feel my heart beating at all. I was either drowning in fury or panic, and it was impossible to decipher which.

“I understand you do not wish to choose, Khrel,” Sevani said, leaning across the table. His eyes pressed forcefully into mine, diving deep beyond my falsified calm into the raging waves behind. “But I am not asking. You must decide if you are staying here with Lena, or leaving her behind. For good.”