Page 10 of Bride of the Enemy Alien

“He gave it to me.”

“Why?”

“To make you listen before you killed me.”

“That remains undecided,” Syin says.

Rosalind holds out her hand, palm up.

A dozen guards tense. Rhazek looks at her hand, then at her face. Rhazek studies her differently for a second. Recognition, maybe, but not her or her face. More of the kind of person who can ask for a weapon in a room full of fear and expect to be handed it.

Slowly, he places the copper sphere in her palm. Nothing explodes, but nobody breathes for a moment anyway. Rosalind closes her fingers around it.

“Council chamber. Merra will meet us there.”

Syin’s jaw tightens. “He should be contained first.”

“He is contained,” Rosalind says.

“He is walking freely.”

“He’s surrounded by armed Zmaj, bleeding heavily.” Rosalind’s eyes dart from Rhazek to me then back to Syin. She reads too much in that single glance. “And he’s standing in a City he can’t navigate without Kessa.”

I regret being volunteered immediately. Rhazek’s eye cuts to me again.

“Kessa.”

The way he says my name makes it sound like he’s picked it up, tested its edge, and found it serviceable.

“No,” I say. Rosalind looks at me. I look at her. She says nothing, which is worse than an order because it gives me room to argue with myself and lose. “Fine,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “But if he collapses, I’m stepping over him.”

Rhazek’s mouth moves. “Liar.”

I glare at him. “Bleed quieter.”

A ghost of a smile passes over his mouth. I glare, shake my head, and lead the enemy deeper into the City. Every step feels like choosing a route through a collapse, except this time I cannot tell whether Rhazek is the danger, the warning, or the thing both of them are hunting.

3

Kessa

The council chamber sits deep enough inside the City that the air cools before we reach it. The walls are old cut stone, marked by repairs newer than the dust in their cracks. No banners. No soft chairs. This isn’t a place built for comfort. It’s where survival comes to argue with itself and call the argument government.

By the time we arrive, Virn is already there, measured and grave, with two City Zmaj behind him. Adran moves to the long stone table and places both hands on it as if claiming it by touch. Ila slips in through a side route with my slate tucked under one arm, because of course she does. Sera sits near Kavor, her healed arm covered but not hidden. Kavor stands behind her like a wall that has learned consent, barely.

Rhazek’s good eye darts quickly around, taking in everything. The table, the exits, the guards, Sera’s covered arm, Kavor’s anchor-burned hand, the places where the old floor has been patched, the way Adran positions himself near the center and Rosalind lets him, for the moment. He’s measuring and building a map of how to hurt us. Or, more charitably, survive us. Maybe both.

Merra arrives last, carrying a healer’s roll and the expression of a woman who has been interrupted while bullying fever patients into drinking broth.

“Oh, good,” she says when she sees Rhazek. “A new kind of idiot.”

Rhazek blinks. I put my hand over my mouth to hide my smile. I like Merra so much at this moment it almost hurts. Rosalind points to the bench at the table’s end.

“Sit.”

Rhazek doesn’t. Visidion steps forward. Rhazek sits.

Damn, she wields power like it’s nothing.