Something about this feels… different.
I swallow hard, pushing away the strange sense of familiarity crawling up my spine. “What do you need from me?”
Varek exhales, crossing his arms. “Shanae isn’t here. You understand humans better than anyone. We need you to talk to them when they wake.”
Excitement flares in my chest. It doesn’t matter that I’m the second choice. This is a real job. A real purpose. Something more than running messages or helping cook whatever the hell I just abandoned in the mess hall.
“I can do that,” I say, my voice steady.
Varek studies me a beat before he nods. “Find out what you can and keep them calm. I want to know who or what killed the Dlanwik.”
I bob my head. “I can do that.”
Without another word, he retreats, and I’m left with Aeroth, whose language—a bunch of clicks and hums—I can’t decipher. She can speak English, as well as Glowranthian, but I understand why she doesn’t like to if hand gestures can do just as well.
Time crawls as I sit by the unconscious man, watching for any sign of movement beyond the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest. Nothing. Not even a twitch of fingers or a flutter of eyelids.
The only thing that shifts is my patience.
I risk a test, pressing the back of my hand against his forehead. An icy chill clings to him. His skin is so much cooler than mine, but his lips aren’t blue. That has to be a good sign, right?
With a sigh, I push to my feet. No point in hovering. Aeroth will let me know if something changes.
I step out, leaving the dimly lit room behind, and wander towards the back of the bowling alley, where the seating is actually comfortable. If I’m going to wait, I might as well do it with a book.
I barely have time to settle into a battered old chair, cracking open the latest novel I scavenged from one of the storage rooms, when a commotion stirs in the main area. Raised voices. Heavy footfalls. The unmistakable tension of something important arriving.
Peering around a small partition, I take in the newcomers.
A man. A kid—maybe ten, maybe fourteen? I’ve never been great at guessing ages. They’re accompanied by a Pyronox, the glow of their ember-like skin unmistakable, and a creature I’ve never seen before.
But what really grabs my attention are the two Glowranthian figures.
I suck in a sharp breath, my gaze falling on the shorter one first. Light blue skin, almost pearlescent under the dim lights, intricate symbols marking his uniform—royalty. Likely one of the princes.
Holy fuck. What the fuck is a prince doing here?
My heart kicks up a notch, but I don’t have time to dwell on it before my attention shifts to the Glowranthian beside him. This one is huge—towering and broad. His glowing bioluminescent markings are subtler than the prince’s, nearly hidden in the shadow of his massive frame.
A bodyguard.
Everything about him screams danger, from the way his nostrils flare as he scans the room to the way his muscles tense beneath his dark armour. The effect is both hypnotic and infuriating.
Before I can dwell on that thought, the human man turns and starts walking towards the room where the unconscious one is being kept.
That’s when it happens.
The Glowranthian bodyguard’s gaze snaps to mine, luminous eyes locking onto me with an intensity that pins me in place.
What the fuck?
Something sharp flickers across the prince’s expression, his lips pressing into a thin line. Then the bodyguard’s eyes flare slightly before his entire posture shifts, his muscles tightening as his expression darkens. He turns to the prince, murmuring something low in their native tongue, and then—just as quickly as he met my gaze—he looks away.
Pointedly.
My stomach twists.
Well, fuck you too.
