Page 71 of Fated to the Dragon Alien
“Bruil was around before the Axis took over Zarux and Teria,” Sevas went on. “Our bodies fed on that radiation, needing it like air. When the Axis rounded up the Terian survivors and dumped them on the planet where our settlements were, our lifespans shortened dramatically because there was no radiation. We lived short lives—a small fraction of what they once were. We…forgot who we were and where we came from as the generations rolled on.”
Sevas crossed her arms. “Which makes your case interesting, Cera. You’re thriving.”
“I felt so guilty,” Cerani said. “That whole time in the mine—everyone else was coughing, breaking down, thinning down to bone, and I was just…getting stronger.”
Fivra cocked her head. “It wasn’t your fault, you know.”
Cerani closed her eyes and wished she could believe her friend’s words. “That air took a dozen lives while I filled quotas like I was born to extract crystal.”
“Maybe you were,” Lilas said.
Cerani jerked her head around.
Lilas lifted her hands. “I’m not saying we belong in some Axis mine. I’m saying maybe what they tried to weaponize is just who we are. Strong. Fast. Durable.” She stepped forward. “They made us prisoners for it. Which means it’s probably the most powerful gift we’ve got.”
Cerani’s breath ran ragged through her chest. She thought of the thirty-four cycles she’d worked, the suits she’d patched, the way her skin had stayed smooth under radiation. The miners lying in the med lab, then moved offline—no, killed. How she’d walked out of it stronger than she started.
“They’ll never stop coming for us,” she said slowly.
“No.” Turi’s voice held that quiet fire Cerani had come to rely on. When Turi believed in something, she didn’t say it loudly—she said it with certainty that rang deep. “But we’re not who we used to be. Neither are you.”
Cerani pressed her lips together, trying to hold everything in. The tears. The rage. The relief.
“We fight back this time,” Sevas said.
Fivra nodded. “And we remember who we were before they told us who to be.”
Cerani looked at each of them in turn. They had grown up on a prison world disguised as home. They’d been told whatto wear, how to speak, when to smile, and who to belong to. The Axis had written their fates before they’d taken their first breaths.
But now?
Cerani had a crew of fighters. She had a ship. And she had loved ones who still believed she mattered.
“We find Nena,” she whispered. “No bargaining. No waiting. No peace until we do.”
“We will,” Lilas said. “But you also need to hear this. That thing you said earlier? About walking through life under someone’s boot? It was never your—our—fate. We were always meant to lead.”
Lead your people. That’s what Stavian had said when they’d planned the escape. Cerani exhaled, her jaw trembling. The words hit harder than they should have. And maybe they were true.
“It’s true.” Lilas leaned back with mischief twinkling in her eyes. “We’re all mates to princes, after all.” She grinned. “Bet you didn’t see that coming.”
Turi quirked an eyebrow. “I thought we agreed to wait to drop that on her.”
Cerani shook her head. “Say what?”
“Yup. Our Zaruxians are the offspring of the queen of Zarux,” Sevas said. “The planet was falling. She made the Axis agree to spare her six hatchlings—yes, they hatched from eggs—and the remaining Zaruxians in exchange for turning herself over to them. They killed her, of course, but they did let the princes live. I mean, they turned them into Axis agents, but…”
“Except for Razion,” Lilas added. “He was a troublesomefekkerfrom the beginning.”
When Cerani just stared at them, Sevas let out a full, deep laugh and clapped Cerani on the shoulder. “Oh, Cera, We have so much to fill you in on.”
Cerani thought about at the vast ship they were standing in, the brothers who’d broken free to lend them their strength, and the storm of rebellion that was now waiting just beyond the next star.
She drew in a deep breath. “Then let’s begin.”
TWENTY-TWO
The sleep cycle made the ship’s systems dim the lights, signaling rest, comfort, safety—things Cerani still didn’t wholly believe in but was starting to trust, little by little.
