“I need you to be good for Ceeka and Numa, okay?” I forced my tone to remain light and upbeat, though inside it felt like every word was being carved from my soul with a rusty spoon. “I’m going to be gone for a while.”
“Why?” Her small pink brows drew together in a frown, her head tilting to one side in that endearing way that always made my heart melt.
“I’m going to get Diarvet,” I vowed.
The pure, radiant delight that bloomed across her face nearly brought me to my knees. “Yay! Then we can go live on Zarzupia and be a family!” Her adorable mispronunciation of the planet’s name only made her words more precious, but the innocent joy in her voice dug into my chest like a blade, twisting with each breath.
“We are a family,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion as I kissed her again and squeezed her so tightly she let out a small, surprised grunt. “Never forget how much DeDe and I love you.”
“I love you too, MeMe,” she declared. Her small hands landed on my cheeks, and she leaned forward to plant a loud, smacking kiss on the tip of my nose that made my heart simultaneously soar and shatter.
With movements that felt like I was tearing away pieces of my own flesh, I lifted her from my arms and handed her back to Numa. I had to. If I held her for even one more second, I might never find the strength to let her go. “Be good for Ceeka and Numa, okay?”
“Okay,” Lilibet agreed readily as she climbed back to her familiar perch on Numa’s shoulder.
“I love you,” I called out, my voice cracking on the words. Thankfully, Numa turned away at just the right moment, mercifully taking Lilibet’s attention with her before my daughter could witness me crumple into Ceeka’s waiting arms. The sobs that had been building in my chest finally broke free, as I buried my face against Ceeka’s shoulder and let the full weight of the terror and grief pour out of me.
I barely had a moment to surrender to the overwhelming emotions before the approach of heavy footsteps announced Tark’s return. Four of his most formidable warriors accompanied him, each one armed to the hilt with blades and spears. Tark’s gestures were unmistakably clear, his dark eyes boring into mine.You didn’t think I was going to let you go alone, did you?
“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice barely audible as overwhelming gratitude crashed over me. I threw my arms around his shoulders, feeling the solid warmth of his fur-covered chest against my cheek. Even though the Peecha chieftain stood rigid as carved stone while I embraced him, the subtle softening around his eyes revealed his emotions.
With one final, lingering glance at my daughter, I turned on my heel with grim determination. But before I could take even a single step, the firm pressure of Tark’s hand on my shoulder stopped me. I turned to face him, and he pointed at the jungle path we’d just traversed, shaking his head with disapproval. Then, his thick finger swung upward indicating the dense canopy above us, where twisted branches formed a natural highway through the sky.
My throat constricted as understanding dawned. The Peecha were a primate-based species, as naturally at home swinging through the treetops as they were walking on solid ground. I, however, most decidedly, was not. My helpless gesture toward my own non-arboreal human form made Tark chuckle in amusement.
The chieftain pivoted and crouched down as he pointed over his shoulder with unmistakable intent. He wanted me to ride on his back like some sort of oversized, terrified backpack. Every instinct screamed at me to refuse until he managed to get across the one point that would make me accept this insane mode of transport. Going through the trees would get us toDiarvet infinitely faster than stumbling through the jungle on foot. I sucked in a shuddering breath, then climbed aboard his shoulders with all the grace of a sack of potatoes.
The world exploded into a kaleidoscope of green, purple, and brown as Tark launched us into the canopy. He moved with incredible agility, leaping from branch to branch with a grace that seemed to defy the laws of physics. I clung to his shoulder, my fingers digging into his thick fur as I tried not to impede his movement while simultaneously offering fervent prayers to any deity who might be listening that I wouldn’t plummet to my death.
I’d adored Tarzan movies as a child, spending countless hours dreaming of swinging through jungle canopies wearing a cute leather bikini. The reality was exponentially less romantic than Hollywood had led me to believe.
The oppressive air that had made breathing feel like being under wet concrete now whipped past us in cool currentsas we navigated the aerial highway. The sensation was simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying. Like being strapped to a rocket that happened to have fur and an excellent sense of balance.
Tark’s warriors followed in our wake, moving with the same silent efficiency. Their weapons gleamed in the shards of sunlight, a sobering reminder that while my intent might be rescue, a battle might prove unavoidable. My mind raced with thoughts of Diarvet and what unspeakable torture he might be enduring at this very moment. Whether we would reach him before Qurbaga’s cruelty broke something irreparable inside him.
We passed several scouting parties during the journey, a retinue of Kwado guards moving through the undergrowth below us, appearing like ants from our lofty vantage point. Thanks to Diarvet, they all headed in the completely wrong direction.
The canopy began to thin, and in the distance, I caught the harsh metallic glint of the Kwado barge squatting like a beast in the clearing. We came to rest at the very edge of the treeline, and my heart twisted to see the now scorched and blackened earth around our former sanctuary. The massive ship had turned the once-lush clearing into a wasteland of charred vegetation and scarred soil—a fitting metaphor for what the Kwado brought wherever they went.
Only a handful of guards milled around the perimeter, postures slack with boredom. I had to gesture for Tark to move us to a different vantage point, one that would give me a clear view of the ship’s starboard underbelly.
There it was—our way in.
Prince Qurbaga was so ridiculously fastidious, so obsessed with maintaining the regal opulence of his floating palace, that he couldn’t bear the thought of mundane necessities like food deliveries or waste removal besmirching the pristine corridors. All such plebeian activities were relegated to the galley hatch. A utilitarian entrance currently hanging open like an invitation, completely unguarded. Qurbaga’s towering ego would never dream anyone would dare infiltrate what he deemed an impenetrable vessel. It was exactly the opening I needed, gift-wrapped by his own arrogance.
I conveyed my plan to Tark through a combination of gestures and the few Peecha words I’d managed to absorb. His intelligent eyes studied the ship, furred face creased in concentration. After what felt like an eternity, he gestured sharply to his warriors, giving orders in a low tone.
The four warriors melted into the surrounding foliage, positioning themselves strategically around the ship’s perimeter. They would serve as a distraction, drawing the guards’ attention away from the hatch.
I felt a surge of confusion when I noticed each warrior carefully leaving their weapons nestled in the protective embrace of the trees. Spears and blades hidden among the branches like deadly fruit. However, when they began stripping off their clothing, my confusion gave way to wide-eyed bewilderment. Not that the Peecha wore much to begin with other than simple loincloths that barely qualified as clothing. But watching four furry warriors emerge from the treeline, cocks swinging with each casual step, was more than a little disconcerting.
But then their entire demeanor shifted, and I realized with dawning amazement that they weren’t behaving like the proud, sentient creatures I knew them to be. Instead, their actions and movements perfectly mimicked the playful, curious behavior I’d observed in chimpanzees during nature documentaries back on Earth. I glanced at Tark with newfound respect, and his lips curved in a smugly satisfied grin.
The deception worked flawlessly. Seriously, Daniel Day-Lewis had nothing on these guys. The bored Kwado guards perked up with amusement at the Peecha’s antics, their attention completely captured by what appeared to be nothing more than local wildlife putting on an entertaining show. They pointed and laughed, vigilance dissolving entirely as they watched the “wild Peecha” scratch themselves, examine random objects with exaggerated curiosity, and engage in mock territorial displays.
Tark didn’t waste a precious second of the distraction. He swept me onto his back and grasped the nearest vine, using it like an escalator to bring us swiftly to ground level near the ruins of the treehouse. A heart-pounding minute of flat-out sprinting across the scorched earth, our feet barely making a whisper on the blackened soil, and we reached the loading ramp. We crept inside the metallic belly of the beast. The cool recycled air hittingmy sweat-dampened skin a physical shock after the jungle’s oppressive humidity.
The hard part was over. Now came the truly impossible task. Navigating the corridors of Qurbaga’s floating palace to find my mate before it was too late.
