I stood at the end of the walk and watched Pugna’ta come closer. When we were within earshot of one another, I opened my mouth to call to her it was a bad time, but I couldn’t say the words. Knowing Pugna’ta, she would interpret that as a challenge rather than a simple dismissal.

When she came in front of me, she smiled suggestively.

“Well, well,” she said, reaching forward and squeezing my forearm. “Awaited by the king himself. I’m a lucky girl.”

“What do you want, Pugna’ta?” I asked. My tone was harsh and very unfriendly, perhaps too much so, but it did nothing to change her intentions. On the contrary, her eyes lit up, and I knew I had been right about her taking any rejection as a challenge.

She bent forward slightly until her lips brushed against my ear, and I heard her whisper coyly, “You, Wise One.”

I didn’t have time to respond. She pulled her head back, tilted it sideways to look at me with a flirtatious grin, and suddenly leaned in. Her mouth pressed against mine insistently as she began kissing me.

Furious, I yanked my head back and stepped away from her. I snapped, “What are you doing?”

“Getting what I want,” she said, moving toward me again and trying to slip her arms around my waist.

“It’s not going to happen, Pugna’ta. I’ve told you this a hundred times.”

“Oh, you’re just being stub—”

Her words didn’t just die off into nothingness; they stopped short like they’d been chopped off by an axe. I looked at her, waiting for her to finish her sentence, but she was staring above my head with something like rage on her face.

“What?” I asked. I turned to see what she was looking at, and I realized, with the same sickening swoop in my stomach I’d felt in the Forum, that she was looking at the upstairs bedroom window. I caught the flash of Tabitha ducking out of sight, but I knew it was too late.

“You have a human in there?” Pugna’ta shouted. I swiveled my head back to look at her just before she shoved me. I stumbled back a bit but regained my footing. “You’re keeping one in your house?”

“Shut up,” I hissed, leaping forward again and taking her by the throat. “Do not question me.”

“Our ever-faithful, ever-protecting Elder, hiding a human away for his own personal pleasure,” she spat icily. Her voice sounded choked from the pressure I was putting on her throat, but I didn’t release her.

“You know nothing of what I do,” I growled.

“I know the Council will be very interested to hear about this,” she retorted. Without warning, she swung her fist, and it connected with my temple. I let go of her at once, dazed, and she hopped back several feet.

“The human is not a threat,” I said, holding my head as it throbbed in my hands.

“Oh, no? Is that why we have all the others locked up?” I could see her physically seething, her body trembling with her fury. “You are putting us all in danger! And for what? To bed that human parasite?”

I roared, irate at the accusation. “Do not tell me I am compromising my tribe!”

“You are selfish!” She screamed.

“And you are ignorant!” I shouted back.

“Well, we’ll just see who the Council agrees with, then, won’t we?” She snapped.

I struck out again, grabbing her by the neck and slamming her to the ground. I pinned her to the dirt by her throat as she scratched at my hand, desperately trying to get me to let her up and free her airway. My voice sounded hoarse and otherworldly as I spoke.

“I. Am. Your. King,” I snarled.

She didn’t answer because she was unable to do anything but gasp for breath and struggle against my grip. I pushed down even harder, and her eyes grew so wide they seemed to bug out of her head a bit.

“Don’t you ever imply I care more for myself than my race,” I continued.

Her body flopped wildly, her legs kicking at the air and her arms pushing against mine. Her nails dug into the back of my hand, but I didn’t move even as blood rose to the surface of the wounds and started to spill in thin lines over my skin. She was making harsh gagging sounds that almost sounded like gurgles, and I could see her lips forming words she was unable to speak.

“Rex!”

My father’s voice blossomed out of the still prairie air, and I heard his footsteps getting louder as he rushed up behind me. He grabbed me by my shoulders and pulled, trying to wrench me off of Pugna’ta, but he wasn’t strong enough to succeed.

“Son! Stop!” He yelled, moving down to take my wrist in both his hands and tug.

With a growl, I released Pugna’ta’s throat, and she scrambled away from me on all fours. Her breath was gritty and coarse, and she looked both terrified and irate. She reached up to her neck and massaged it roughly. I was still staring at her, and she stared back with equal hatred. My dad’s hands had returned to my shoulders.

“You need to leave. Now,” he said over my head, and I knew he was talking to Pugna’ta.

She didn’t move her eyes from me, and, for a moment, I thought she hadn’t even heard my father speak. Then, she slowly got to her feet, still massaging her neck. I, too, stood, and my father’s hands dropped from my shoulders. Only the breeze could be heard in the stillness. There was thick tension filling the air, and I was sure Pugna’ta was going to attack me with vengeful rage. When she finally moved, though, it was to take off at a sprint away from the house and back toward the village. I didn’t exhale until her back had become nothing more than a blurry haze.

“I’m sorry,” my father said, breaking the silence. I turned around and looked at him. He looked back at me. “I’m sorry, son. You would have killed her.”

“I know,” I replied tonelessly.

He patted my shoulder and guided me inside. Mother was standing by the window, her eyes wide, and I knew she’d seen everything. The moment I entered, however, she hurried to get me something to drink, and father sat me down at the table.

“What happened?” He asked in a low voice.

I shook my head, angry at the fresh memory. Everything had happened so quickly and had been exactly what I’d been afraid of happening. It was hard for me to process the events. I could still see the image of Pugna’ta’s face as she spotted Tabitha in my mind, the fury and the fear in her features. I knew that, had I not attacked her, she would have gone into the house and killed Tabitha herself, or at least taken her to the lock-up with the other humans.

“She came to persuade me into a relationship again, and she saw Tabitha in the window upstairs.”

“What?” Mother whispered, horrified, as she brought me a mug of what I presumed was vigibrach root tea.

“She said I was putting everyone at risk, the tribe, and all the A’li-uud. She said she was going to tell the Council about Tabitha.” I shook my head again and stared into the mug of tea. Steam rose up and clouded my vision, but I didn’t care. “I lost control. I was angry, and I was scared.”

“She wouldn’t tell anyone,” mother said. I looked up at her and saw the worry scrawled across her face. “Would she?”

I almost laughed at the notion that Pugna’ta wouldn’t go running to the Council about this. “Of course she will. I’d bet my Elderhood she’s on her way to P’otes-tat Ulti right now.”

Mother just stared at me with wide eyes, but father asked, “How do the other Elders seem to feel about the humans?”

“They’re divided,” I said honestly. “Almost split down the middle. We all agree there is a potential risk to the A’li-uud if humans know about us, but there is contention about the level of risk—if any—if they don’t.”

“They’re going to destroy the ships in the galaxy,” mother told father. “Rex told me when he returned from the Forum today.”

Father looked at me for confirmation, and I nodded. “There has been no vote on what to do with the captive humans once we have everything we can get from them, though.”

“And the others do not know of Tabitha?” Father asked.

I breathed in a long, shaky breath, and then I shook my head with a hint of shame and an excess of defiance.

“Perhaps they wouldn’t mind,” mother said hopefully. “They made you an Elder for a reason. They trust your judgment. Maybe they will understand your decision.”

“My decision, at first, is what I thought was best for the tribe,” I said. I was starting to get angry again, but my anger was at myself for even getting into this situation in the first place. “But she has stayed here because I knew she would not be safe if I put her into confinement with the others. Too many A’li-uud would consider her a danger for her knowledge of us now.”

“You haven’t kept her here because you wanted her here?” Mother asked knowingly.

I looked away. I felt a strange heaviness in my heart, and my innards seemed to be twisted up in fear. “It’s true. I wanted her here,” I murmured. It was the first time I had admitted my feelings out loud, and it both thrilled and scared me.

My mother moved to the side to catch my gaze. “Then, don’t you think the Elders would understand that?”

“It’s not a risk we can take,” Father answered brusquely. He seemed to have snapped into action. His posture was very straight, and he looked deadly serious. “We have to protect Tabitha.”

“Of course we do, but how do we—?”

“Take her to your house,” Father said, cutting my mother off mid-sentence. His eyes bore into mine with more intensity than I had ever seen before, and I realized just how much he, too, cared for Tabitha.

I looked back at him, feeling helpless for the first time in my Elderhood. “I can’t. I’ve kept her here this whole time because I can’t take her there. The staff and the guards could tell someone, and it could be a disaster.”

“The staff and the guards are the protection you need for her right now. They don’t need to know they’re protecting a human. They just need to protect.” Father lifted his eyebrows at me with insistence. “Take her to your house, son.”

“How am I supposed to get her into the house without anyone seeing?” I snapped. My fear was making me quick-tempered, and my heart was beating so hard I could hear it in my ears.

Mother reached forward and placed her hand lovingly over mine. When I looked at her, I saw a blend of worry and pride painted in her smoke-grey eyes.

“My boy,” she whispered. “You’re the king.”