AllFreeNovel
Share Us
??
MALIX
In the Lyran home system, we grapple with crises collectively. If a moon is attacked, we are all attacked; if there is a food crisis on Logos, we band together to resolve it. There is no event on a Lyran planet that does not impact us all.
Thus, it is very difficult to understand how Liatra can seem so insulated from the war raging across the Five Houses of the Divine. The streets of Oasis are calm and orderly, people laughing and enjoying themselves. Even Jokahn’s home—supposedly under surveillance by an enemy faction—does not feel like a war zone.
Not only that, but it is filled to the brim with people.
Skoropi walk his halls, but so do numerous humans and Lyra. They laugh and socialize, and the laughter begins to grate on me as it did when I first boarded Jaya. I cannot shake the sensation that these people care nothing for the loss of my home moon, that they did not feel the reverberation of death that echoed across transdimensional space.
Already, I feel that we will not get any real help from this man.
I’ve seen large groups of humans, Lyra, and Skoropi talking and eating, walking to and fro in the villa. This is not a home in any sense I’ve heard of—it is more like a resort, filled to the brim with people and pleasures. Sweet and smoky smells waft from every room we pass, and the laughter…
I fear it will drive me mad.
“I don’t trust him,” I murmur to Frankie as we finally stop climbing stairs and move down a hallway. It’s dimly lit with lanterns on either wall, but a pool of reddish light up ahead and a cacophony of voices tell me that a larger space is waiting. “This still feels like a trap.”
“That’s because he isn’t sure what he’s going to do with us yet,” Frankie murmurs in response. “Or at least…Ithinkthat’s why.”
My heart picks up a beat, my fingers curling where I’ve holstered my blade. “What do you mean?”
“If he’s an information broker, there’s a chance he’s considering selling us to the highest bidder,” she says. “Although…that would entail him making an enemy of Nixeris and Zandro andallof humanity and the Lyra, and I doubt he wants to do that.”
“So you think we’re safe?” I ask.
“As long as we can convince him that we’re a more valuable ally to have than Dalphox, yeah, I think we’re fine,” she says.
She doesn’t sound very confident.
Taraven is blabbering away up ahead, talking as if our lives aren’t on the line. He walks side by side with Jokahn, asking endless questions about thecaltanbreeding process and how many there are on the planet. I catch inquiries regarding if he can take one with him or not.
Jokahn gives him a firm “maybe.”
We finally reach the pool of light and turn right, and I’m assailed by glowing lamps, loud voices, and a bouquet of alien scents. All are pleasant, yes—but combined into one, it’s overwhelming. I almost freeze, unused to the kind of decadence before me.
And truly, decadence is the only word I can find to describe it.
Round pits are set into the floor all over the room, lined with pillows and cushions. Red curtains with painted gold embellishments on them hang over the room, the fog of humidity drifting around us. The moisture feels good on my scales, but I dislike how cloying it is—how I feel hot and needy and feverish once again. There’s something in the air here that provokes my desire, my attention zeroing in on the smell of Frankie’s hair.
“You didn’t tell us you were having a party,” Frankie says, her voice low with frustration.
“This is no party,” Jokahn says. “This is just my day to day—and I had other guests scheduled to arrive at the same time you did.”
“Other guests?” Taraven asks, his smile faltering.
“A cohort from Traika with a very interesting new apprentice,” Jokahn clarifies. “Don’t worry—not your enemies, if youstilldon’t trust me.”
“Speaking of trusting you,” Frankie cuts in, “where are our pilot andzephtan?”
“Well, right over there,” Jokahn says. “I’ll show you.”
I reach out instinctively and grab Frankie’s arm. Her head snaps to me, but I don’t let go despite my embarrassment.
“We should get out while we still can,” I grit out.
Her hand covers mine, her thumb running along my knuckles. The fever comes soon after—that sensation like I’m going to die of pleasure, like I’ll overheat and melt.
