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PROLOGUE
ROSALIND
“You gave your word,” I say.
I’m so angry that it unintentionally comes out as a growl. The Zmaj Al’fa studies his claws, then brushes them against the chestplate of bones, filling the room with a rattling sound. He huffs, shakes his head, and only then does he look up. His demeanor is calm but I know him well enough to see that this is a show he is putting on.
“Did I?” he asks with a shrug.
The room is silent. Visidion presses his hand on my lower back. I count to ten, pushing away the anger and emotions that will only cause more problems. Zat’an, who is standing next to the Al’fa, clears his throat and raises his hands while tapping his tail on the floor.
“Perhaps we should adjourn and discuss this—” Zat’an says, trying to intervene.
“There is no need,” the Al’fa cuts him off with a sharp slashing of his hand. “I have made up my mind.”
“You cannot do this,” I counter.
“Can’t I?” the Al’fa says, his voice low, deep, and rumbling.
He leans onto the table between us. The tablet has a to-scale carving of the entire Zmaj compound and the immediate tunnels around it. He’s trying to use his size to intimidate but that doesn’t bother me. Not in the slightest, if anything it raises my hackles, makes me want to meet his challenge as I have so many other men who thought to use their size against me. I press my hands on my side of the table and try to lean forward in response but my bulging belly stops me.
Damn it. Sorry little one.
“No, you cannot” I answer. “We have an agreement. My people are embedded. You wouldn’t know all that you do without them.”
“Right,” he says, a vicious smile on his face, “remove them, now. I will give you that much time.”
“You stubborn ass,” I say, the words slipping off my tongue before I can stop them.
Not my most diplomatic moment. His eyes widen and his tail rises over his head. Visidion growls, it’s a soft sound as he keeps it suppressed but it is unmistakable. He grabs his hood and removes it from his head. My back cools where his hand was and I am very aware of missing that point of contact with him.
“Al’fa,” Visidion says. “Control yourself.”
Al’fa growls at Visidion. The two of them glare at one another as the tension in the room soars. These two alien-dragon warriors will be throwing down any moment if I don’t defuse the situation and fast. Honestly, I’m surprised it’s taken this long for it to happen. The fact that it has is a testament to Visidion’s self-control. The number of times the Al’fa has insulted or threatened me cannot be easy for Vis to let slide.
“You are all my guests,” he says, jabbing one finger forcefully onto the table to emphasize each word. “This is my domain. My people. My enemies.”
“And this is my mate,” Visidion growls as his tail rises over his head.
He takes a step to move around the table but I catch his arm and stop him. His muscles are vibrating with the tension of barely contained rage, but he stops, for me.
“Al’fa,” I say, speaking softly, but not looking at him.
My eyes are on Visidion who stares at my hand on his arm. The corners of his lips twist, forming a half-smile that I know and love so incredibly much. The love I found in him… I never would have expected. By the time the crash happened, I was living on borrowed time and knew it. That I am still here, still leading my people, and soon that Vis and I will have a child of our own, all of these things were impossible without Tajss.
“What, Lady General?” the Al’fa asks.
The tone of his voice is tight. He’s staring at Vis, ready to throw down. I honestly don’t know which one of them would win in a fight, but I would lay odds on Vis, not only because I love him with all my heart, but because I know that he is a brilliant strategist.
“We had a deal,” I say. “I expect you to keep your word.”
“The situation has changed,” he says. “You sent your people there and now we know how dangerous this Shaman of the Urr’ki is.”
“Are you saying that you believe this paluga they worship is real?” I ask.
The Al’fa scoffs sharply, shaking his head. Zat’an at his side barks a harsh laughter. The tension in Visidion eases. I’ve defused the situation, which is part of what I hoped to accomplish.
“No,” Zat’an says. “It’s a myth. A desperate dream.”
