Текст книги "Roks captive"

Автор книги: A.G. Wilde

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 21 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

Oh god. What have I done?

“Enough,” Rok growls, his arm encircling my shoulders. “My female needs rest.”

Kol studies us for a long moment, his face unreadable. Finally, he inclines his head. “Rest. At first light, we journey to find your lost ones.”

Rok stands and offers me his hand. “Come,” he projects softly. “You need rest.”

I take his hand, grateful for the escape from the intense scrutiny. My legs ache from sitting cross-legged for so long, and exhaustion weighs on me like a physical burden. The events of the day have left me completely drained.

Rok leads me through a narrow passage branching off from the main cavern. The tunnel winds deeper into the cliff face, occasionally opening into smaller chambers.

“Here,” Rok projects finally, gesturing to an opening in the stone wall.

He guides me into what is clearly his personal space—a modestly sized chamber carved into the living rock. The ceiling is low enough that he must duck slightly to enter, though there’s enough room for me to stand comfortably.

Rok watches my face as I take in his dwelling. His chest is puffed slightly, but as he follows my gaze, his expression shifts to uncertainty, then something like embarrassment.

“This is my chamber,” he explains. “I earned it when I became scout leader. Few have their own space.”

I can tell he’s seeing it through my eyes now, and finding it lacking. The chamber is Spartanly furnished—a pile of animal hides in one corner serves as bedding; various tools and weapons hang from pegs hammered into cracks in the stone; a small niche holds what appear to be personal items—a collection of unusual stones, a piece of metal that might be from a ship, and a few bone carvings.

Rok’s brow furrows as he scans the bare rock walls. “It is…not much,” he projects hesitantly. “Not worthy of a female.”

I reach for his hand, squeezing it gently. “It’s perfect,” I tell him, and I’m being honest.

Because at this moment, it is. It’s shelter, it’s safety, and most importantly, it’s away from dozens of curious eyes and probing minds. My legs feel ready to buckle beneath me, and my eyelids are growing heavier by the second.

Rok seems unconvinced by my assurance, his gaze still moving critically around the chamber. “Tomorrow I will make it better,” he decides. “More comfortable for you.”

“Tomorrow,” I agree, though in my mind, tomorrow holds more pressing concerns—finding the others, making sure they’re safe. The thought of Jacqui and the rest of the women alone in the wasteland sends a fresh spike of anxiety through me.

As if sensing my thoughts, Rok guides me to the pile of hides. “Rest now,” he projects gently. “We will find your people when Ain rises. That is my oath.”

I sink gratefully onto the surprisingly soft bedding, too exhausted to even remove my shoes. The hides smell of him. It’s oddly comforting.

“Sleep,” Rok projects, settling beside me, his body radiating warmth in the cool chamber. “I will keep watch.”

As consciousness begins to slip away, my last coherent thought is of tomorrow—of traveling through the desert, of facing unknown dangers, of the hope and fear warring within me.

But for now, in this moment, sheltered in a cave with an alien warrior who’s somehow become my protector, I feel something I’ve felt since only being in his presence.

I feel safe.

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter 35

OceanofPDF.com

EXPLAINING HUMANS: MORE DIFFICULT THAN HUNTING SAND SERPENTS

OceanofPDF.com

ROK

The first light of Ain has barely touched the sky when Tharn appears at the entrance of my chamber.

It is unusual. Tharn does not come to rouse me—not since we were younglings. He knows I wake before the light, my senses sharp and ever-watchful. Yet here he is, his broad form casting a shadow in the dim morning light, his golden eyes narrowed with curiosity.

I do not need to ask why. I know.

Jus-teen rests beside me, her small form curled in the pile of hides. Her pale skin glows faintly in the soft light creeping into the chamber, her loose mane spilling across the bedding like threads of Ain’s own radiance. She is extraordinary. Even now, I can feel Tharn’s mind brushing against mine, full of questions he does not yet push into my mindspace.

“She still rests,” Tharn projects, his mental tone laced with amusement.

“She needs rest,” I reply, my voice equally soft in his mind.

Tharn tilts his head, his focus shifting to her with unhidden curiosity. “I have never seen one rest so deeply. Does she not sense the light or the movement?”

“She is not Drakav,” I remind him, annoyance flickering through my thoughts. “Her body does not respond as ours do.”

I can sense he understands, but he still does not leave. Instead, he steps farther into the chamber, his gaze lingering on Jus-teen. I feel a low growl building in my chest, but I suppress it. Tharn means no harm. He is curious, as are all my brothers. They have never seen a female before, let alone one like her.

But she is mine.

Tharn stands at the entrance, his gaze lingering on her sleeping form. His curiosity is palpable, brushing against my mind like a persistent question waiting for an answer.

“She is unlike anything I have seen,” Tharn projects, his tone cautious but probing. “Even her breathing is strange. Soft…uneven.”

I grunt, unwilling to feed his curiosity. Jus-teen’s breaths are soft, light, and melodic in a way I have come to find soothing. I watch her chest rise and fall, the faint warmth of her body radiating through the bedding.

“She is delicate,” Tharn continues, tilting his head. “Not like us. Will she endure the journey to the Silent Valley?”

“She will,” I say firmly. “She is stronger than she looks.”

Tharn does not respond. Instead, he steps closer, his golden eyes narrowing as he studies her.

“What are you doing, Tharn?” I project a low growl, my brows tightening.

He glances at me, unperturbed. “Her skin changes color often. I have seen it. Is it…danger?”

“No,” I reply. “It is her way.”

Her flushed skin, her strange reactions—they are all part of her. At first, they puzzled me. Now, I find I look forward to them. They are signs of her emotions, her thoughts, and I notice them even when she tries to hide them.

“Strange,” Tharn muses, stepping back. “But then, all of this is strange.”

Before I can respond, Justine stirs. Her brow furrows slightly, and she shifts in the bedding, her hand reaching up to rub at her face. Her eyelids flutter open, and she blinks, her gaze finding mine almost immediately.

“Is it morning already?” she mumbles those words I cannot understand, the thoughts following her meaning shortly after.

Tharn flinches at the sound, his claws twitching at his sides as if preparing for an attack. His thoughts are sharp, unguarded: What is this? What is she doing?

I suppress a smirk, leaning closer to Jus-teen. “You are loud, light-bringer,” I project gently into her mind.

She blinks, realization dawning as she sits up straighter, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Sorry,” she thinks, her mental voice softer now. She turns to Tharn, offering him a small smile. “Good morning, Tharn.”

Surprise flickers across Tharn’s features—not just at her greeting, but at her casual use of his name, as if they are long-acquainted. Few address him so directly outside of Kol and me.

His thoughts ripple with confusion. “What were those sounds she made?”

“She vocalizes,” I explain, the word forming clumsily in my mind. “It is her way of communicating.”

Tharn tilts his head, his gaze flicking between her and me. “She speaks…with sound? Does it not disturb you?”

“No,” I reply without hesitation. “She has spoken aloud many times in my presence, her strange human sounds startling and unfamiliar. But now, I find I like them. Her voice is soft, melodic, even when she is frustrated or amused. It is like water running over smooth stones—gentle, soothing, and alive.”

“It is her way,” I add simply.

Tharn steps back slightly, his gaze fixed on Jus-teen as if she is a puzzle he cannot quite solve.

Jus-teen shifts under his scrutiny, and I feel a surge of protectiveness rise within me. “We leave soon,” I say, standing and moving to block Tharn’s view of her. “Prepare the others.”

Tharn hesitates, then inclines his head in the way we do, similar to Jus-teen’s chin jerk. “As you say, scout-leader.”

He lingers for a moment longer, his gaze flicking once more to Jus-teen before he turns and leaves the chamber.

Jus-teen exhales softly, her shoulders relaxing as the tension leaves the room. “He’s…intense,” she thinks, glancing at me.

“They are curious,” I explain, sitting beside her once more. “You are the first they have seen. The first they have heard.”

Her brow furrows. “I guess I’m going to have to get used to being the center of attention.”

“You will,” I assure her. “You are strong.”

She bares her teeth at me, the expression soft and warm. “Thanks, Rok,” she says aloud.

The sound of her voice tugs at something deep inside me, and I realize again how much I have come to treasure it. Her vocalizations are strange, yes, but they are hers. And everything about her—her voice, her scent, her thoughts—is precious to me.

I give her time to adjust before I take her to the cave’s main chamber where the others are waiting, all ready with extra waterskins and pouches of fire bloom leaves strapped to their sides. Even under my brothers’ annoying, but expected scrutiny, Jus-teen does not flinch. She eats quickly and soon we are ready. We leave the clan’s caves before long.

Ain is low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the dust as we set out. Jus-teen walks beside me, her pace slower than the rest of the group but steady. Ten of my brothers follow us, including Kol and Tharn, the others forced to stay and guard our territory.

The journey is uneventful at first; the landscape shifting from rolling dunes to jagged rock formations as we move steadily toward the Silent Valley. The air is cool, Ain’s heat not yet oppressive, and the silence is broken only by the rhythmic crunch of sand beneath our feet.

But uneventful does not mean easy.

Solmarks into our journey, the strain begins to weigh on Jus-teen. Her steps falter more frequently now, the muscles of her smaller frame ill-suited to the relentless pace of the Drakav. She lags behind, and though I slow my stride to match hers, it does not seem to be helping.

The Drakav are built for this terrain. Our legs are long, our stamina unmatched, and we are accustomed to the grueling conditions of the dust. But my Jus-teen… she is soft. The dust does not welcome her as it does us. Yet she presses on, her jaw tight, her gaze fixed determinedly on the horizon.

The others do not mind her slower pace. They are too busy watching her, their curiosity palpable. Every movement she makes, every vocalization she speaks, draws their attention. I even notice they are not wincing as much when she forgets to use mindspeak. I do not know if I like that they are adapting to her, but I push the feeling back. I want them to welcome her. I want her to be happy. Comfortable.

Focus shifting back to her, I watch her stumble slightly, her foot catching on a loose stone, and my chest tightens.

“Let me carry you,” I project into her mind.

She shakes her head, her lips pressing into a small, rueful smile. “Not yet,” she thinks back.

“Why?” I press. I do not understand. “It would be easier for you.”

She hesitates for a moment, her gaze flicking to the horizon. “You need to conserve your energy,” she replies finally. “The others—the females—they’ll need you more than I do when we find them.”

The words catch me off guard, and I stare at her, uncomprehending. My energy? For the others?

“They might not be able to walk,” she continues, a flicker of concern in her thoughts. “Or they might be hurt. You’ll need your strength for them, Rok. I can manage for now.”

Her reasoning is sound, but it does not sit well with me. She is my Jus-teen. My light. My duty is to her first.

“I will carry them if needed,” I say simply. “But you come first.”

She glances up at me, her cheeks flushing faintly, and I sense her gratitude even as she shakes her head. “I appreciate that,” she thinks, “but I’ll be fine. I promise. Let me do this on my own for now.”

I do not argue further. I can feel the resolve in her mind, the quiet determination that has carried her through every challenge since she fell to this world. So I stay beside her, matching her stride, my presence a silent reassurance.

At one point, Tharn falls back to walk beside her. “Your water-sharing,” he begins, his mental tone cautious. “Is it common among your kind?”

Jus-teen pushes a laugh through her nose as she glances at me, her cheeks coloring slightly. “It’s…not something we talk about casually,” she thinks, her voice hesitant.

Tharn tilts his head, clearly unsatisfied with her answer. “Strange,” he says again, his favorite word for her.

I suppress a growl, my hand finding hers as I guide her forward. “Enough questions,” I project firmly to Tharn.

He falls silent, but his curiosity lingers, a constant hum in the back of my mind.

“Go away, Tharn.”

But he is not the only one.

Two sols pass. We are almost there. We continue on.

Jus-teen is the slowest among us, yet none complain or show impatience. They do not know her stamina has much improved, as if she has changed, too, as I have been. If anything, they seem content to match her pace, stealing glances when they think I am not watching.

I find myself reflecting on their fascination. They see only her femaleness, this rare thing they have heard of but never witnessed. They do not know how truly remarkable she is beyond this simple fact of her existence.

They did not see her face death without flinching.

They did not witness her attack Tharn to protect me.

They cannot comprehend the gift she gave in accepting me into herself, in sharing her water.

This last thought sends a wave of possessiveness through me so strong, it makes Tharn glance sharply in my direction. I know what most of my brothers are thinking. They wonder if they, too, might claim a female, if Jus-teen’s arrival heralds a change in the endless sameness of our lives.

Kol has said nothing of how we will proceed once we find these other females. He is cautious, as a leader must be. But I can sense his curiosity, his calculations.

I am not certain these other females will be as receptive as my Jus-teen. I am not certain they should be. The thought of my brothers bonding with them brings a complexity of emotions I do not fully understand.

Each time we stop to rest, the others gather around Jus-teen, their questions coming fast and eager. She answers with patience I would not possess in her position, explaining concepts that must seem as foreign to them as our world must have once been to her.

“Do all females produce water from their eyes?”

“Why do you wear these different hide coverings?”

By the third rest period, I find myself wishing, with some guilt, that they might each find a female of their own—if only so they would leave mine in peace. The thought surprises me with its selfishness.

In the dark, when the temperature drops and Jus-teen curls against me for warmth, I can sense the weight of watching eyes. The interest of my brothers grows with each passing solmark, until our camp buzzes with anticipation like a hive of stinging mites.

Their questions become more specific, more personal.

“What did her water taste like?”

“How did you know she was yours to claim?”

“Will the others let us claim them, too?”

By the fourth sol, relief washes over me like cool water. We have arrived. We stop as a group, looking out over the dust. The Silent Valley—a vast area of dust that even the most fearsome predators do not tread.

And there, in the distance, something reflects Ain’s rays back at us—a gleam of unnatural smoothness amid the rough terrain.

Jus-teen straightens beside me, her hand finding mine in an instinctive gesture.

“Oh my goodness…it’s them,” she vocalizes, her thoughts coming scattered, filled with relief and anxiety in equal measure. “It’s the ship.”

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter 36

OceanofPDF.com

JUST WHEN I THOUGHT THINGS WERE LOOKING UP

OceanofPDF.com

JUSTINE

The moment I see the glint of metal in the distance, something in me breaks loose. I’m moving before I can think, my feet carrying me forward in a stumbling run through the shifting sand.

“Jacqui!” I call out, my voice swallowed by the vastness of the desert. “Jacqui!”

Behind me, I sense hesitation from the Drakav, their confusion rippling across my mind like disturbed water. They didn’t expect this sudden burst of movement, this desperate sprint toward the unknown. But I can’t slow down. Not now. Not when I’m so close.

After a moment’s pause, I sense them following. Rok’s presence stands out most clearly in my mind, a mixture of concern and protectiveness washing over me.

“Be careful,” his thoughts reach me. “This Valley holds much danger.”

I don’t slow. I can’t. Every cell in my body is driving me forward, toward that glint of metal, toward the hope that everyone is still alive.

As I run, a terrible thought grips me: What if I’m too late? What if the bus is empty, nothing but a metal coffin baking in the relentless sun? My imagination conjures the worst images—bodies withered from dehydration, or worse, nothing at all, just an abandoned shell with no clue as to what happened to the others.

My chest tightens, lungs burning both from exertion and from the fear squeezing my heart. The bus grows larger as I approach, but I still see no movement, no sign of life. The silence is oppressive, broken only by my labored breathing and the sound of my shoes pounding against the sand.

“Jacqui!” I call again, my voice cracking from strain and desperation. “Anyone! Can you hear me?”

Nothing.

I push myself harder, stumbling slightly as my shoe catches in a small depression. Rok’s thoughts flare with alarm, but I right myself and keep moving. I’m close enough now to make out details—the bus sits just as I left it, half-buried in sand on one side. The drag chute still stands, creating that makeshift shelter extending from one side of the vehicle.

And then—movement.

A shadow shifts under the drag chute. Someone stands, one hand raised to shield their eyes from the sun’s glare. Relief floods through me so intensely that I nearly collapse. I slow my pace, waving my arms frantically above my head.

“Hey!” I shout. “Over here! It’s Justine!”

The figure freezes for a moment, then I see them turn and speak urgently to someone else. Another figure rises, then a third. They’re moving now, scrambling toward the transport as if for protection. I watch as one of them disappears inside, only to emerge moments later with something in her hands.

As I draw closer, I can finally make out their features. Mikaela stands at the front, her dark braids pulled back in a tight ponytail, a high-heeled shoe clutched in one hand like a weapon. Next to her is Pam, the happy one, holding what appears to be a bag filled with sand, ready to swing it. Their faces are gaunt, skin reddened from sun exposure, but they’re alive.

They’re alive.

“Justine?” Mikaela calls out, uncertainty and hope warring in her voice. “Is that really you?”

“Yes!” I shout back, waving both arms now. “It’s me! I’m here!”

I hear Mikaela’s voice, pitched high with emotion, calling back into the transport. “Erika! Come quick! It’s Justine! She’s alive!”

Women begin emerging from the transport—first Erika, then Tina (the one who’d read through the manual), then Alex (the nurse), Mira (the med student) and others, faces I recognize but don’t remember their names. They stand in a loose cluster, expressions ranging from disbelief to joy to caution as they watch my approach.

When I’m within twenty feet, Mikaela breaks rank and runs toward me. We collide in a fierce hug, her arms wrapping around me so tightly it knocks the breath from my lungs.

“We thought you were dead,” she sobs against my shoulder, her body trembling. “We thought you were gone forever.”

“I almost was,” I manage, my own tears flowing freely now. “But I’m here. I made it back.”

More women approach, surrounding us in a circle of embraces and tearful exclamations. Hands reach out to touch me, as if confirming I’m real and not a mirage born of heat and desperation. I’m passed from one embrace to another, each woman offering some variation of relieved disbelief.

“How are you alive?” one of them asks.

“What happened to you?” asks another.

Their voices overlap, creating a cacophony of emotion that washes over me after days of the calm, measured mindspeak of the Drakav. It’s overwhelming and beautiful all at once.

“You look…different,” Alex says, stepping back to examine me. Her keen eyes take in my sun-darkened skin and probably the fact I don’t look dehydrated or dying.

“I feel different,” I admit, wiping at my tears.

It’s then that I notice the hush falling over the group. One by one, the women’s expressions shift from joy to uncertainty, their eyes fixing on something behind me. I feel a familiar tug in my chest, a presence in my mind that has become as natural as breathing.

I turn slowly to find Rok and his clan standing several yards away, maintaining a respectful distance. They’ve arranged themselves in a loose semicircle, with Rok standing just a few feet before them, his golden eyes fixed solely on me. The contrast between them and the human women couldn’t be more stark—their tall, powerful frames, their alien features, the way they hold themselves completely still except for the slight tilt of their heads as they observe us.

“Holy shit,” Mikaela breathes, her hand finding my arm in a tight grip. “What the actual fuck are those?”

“Who.” I correct automatically, turning back to face the women. “Not what. Who.”

“Fine,” Erika says, her voice tight with fear and suspicion. “Who the fuck are those…people?”

I take a deep breath, trying to figure out how to explain everything that’s happened—the connection I’ve formed with Rok, the clan’s willingness to help us, the complex society they’ve built in this harsh environment. It all seems too much to convey in simple words.

“They’re called the Drakav,” I begin, keeping my voice calm. “They’re native to this planet, and they’ve come to help us.”

“Oh, thank God,” Pam beams. “Thank God!”

But the others don’t react the same.

“Help us?” Mikaela repeats. “They look like they want to eat us.”

I glance over my shoulder to see several of the gathered Drakav snarling, fangs visible as they brace against the constant chatter that comes from my people. And I realise it must be like when I got overwhelmed by their mindspeak back in their cave. I give them a pleading look, hoping they’ll understand.

“No.” I shake my head. “They don’t eat…I mean, they hunt, but not… Look, they’re here to help. They saved my life. He saved my life.”

I turn toward Rok, extending my hand in invitation. “It’s okay,” I project to him. “Come closer. Slowly. No sudden movements.”

Rok hesitates, his gaze flicking between me and the cluster of women. I can feel his caution, his awareness of the fear radiating from the humans. But after a moment, he steps forward, his approach measured and non-threatening.

As he comes to stand beside me, I hear the collective intake of breath from the women. He towers over all of us, his golden eyes bright, his powerful frame casting a shadow over us.

“This is Rok,” I say, reaching out to take his hand in mine. The gesture feels both natural and significant. “He found me in the desert after I left to find help. He kept me alive. Protected me.”

I pause, suddenly aware that I’ve reached a moment of definition. What is Rok to me? What word can possibly encompass what we’ve become to each other in this short, intense time?

“He’s my…” I pause. The word forms in my mind before I’ve fully acknowledged it. But it’s…it’s true. “He’s my boyfr—.” The word seems oddly wrong. As if it’s lessening the gravity of our connection. “He’s my mate.”

The declaration sends a visible shock wave through the group of women. Mikaela’s jaw drops open, and Erika takes an involuntary step backward.

“Your what?” Tina asks, eyes wide as they blink behind her glasses.

“Mate,” I repeat, more firmly this time, squeezing Rok’s hand. “We…bonded. Out there.” I gesture vaguely toward the vast expanse of desert. Oh god, what am I saying? I can hear how it sounds. But it’s the truth. And I’m not ashamed of it.

“You’ve been gone for like three weeks, Justine,” Mikaela says slowly, as if explaining something to a child. “And you’ve…mated…with an alien?”

When she puts it that way, it does sound insane. But nothing about my experience has been normal or expected. How can I explain the intensity of survival, the depth of connection that forms when someone saves your life, learns your mind, accepts you completely?

“It’s complicated,” I say finally. “But he and his clan are here to help us. They know this planet. They can help us survive.”

Rok’s thoughts brush against mine. “Tell them we mean no harm. We will protect them as I have protected you.”

I relay his message, watching as the women’s expressions shift between disbelief, fear, and cautious hope.

“The others,” I project to Rok. “They can come closer, too. Slowly.”

Rok turns, making a gesture to the waiting clan members. One by one, they begin to approach. Kol comes first, his face impassive but curious. Tharn follows, his gaze darting between the human women with barely contained fascination.

As they draw nearer, I notice something in the women’s reactions—beyond the fear and uncertainty, there’s a flicker of something else. A kind of stunned appreciation. For all their alienness, the Drakav are impressive—powerful, graceful, their eyes intelligent and observant.

“There are more of us inside,” Erika says, her practical nature reasserting itself. “Some are too weak to come out. We’ve been surviving on emergency rations and some of us figured out how to harvest water from the ship’s condensers. Mikaela even found some…uh…insects in the sand. We’ve been uh…” She swallows hard. “It’s been hard. Between the headaches and fevers and nightmares, we thought…we never thought this day would come.”

I pause. “Fevers and headaches…because of the heat and dehydration?”

Alex steps closer. “I think so.”

Mikaela shakes her head. “I think it’s something else entirely.” She folds her arms. “But we agree to disagree.”

I nod, suddenly noticing the gauntness in their faces, the way their clothes hang loosely on their frames. They’ve been barely surviving out here. And they’ve been having the same fever and headaches as I was.

It’s strange, but too much for us to unpack right now.

“The Drakav know where to find water,” I tell them. “They can help us gather food, too. We don’t have to struggle anymore.”

“That’s all good. If they can help us till the Xyma arrive, we can probably make it,” someone says. A sour feeling develops in the pit of my stomach. They’re still hoping the Xyma will come? As my case shifts across the group, I realize it’s not all of them that are hoping. Mikaela, for one, simply rolls her eyes when the woman speaks.

I don’t know how I’m gonna break it to them, but I don’t think the Xyma are coming and I believe the Drakav are our best bet. “The Drakav will help us,” is all I say.

Relief washes over their faces, but I can see the questions still lingering in their eyes. What will this help cost? What does it mean to accept assistance from these alien beings?

Before they can voice these concerns, my heart drops. I’ve been so caught up in the reunion that I haven’t registered the absence of the one person I was most desperate to see.

“Where’s Jacqui?” I ask, scanning the group of women. “Where’s my sister?”

A strange hush falls over the group. No one meets my eyes directly, and a cold dread begins pooling in my gut.

“Jacqui?” I call louder, stepping away from Rok and toward the bus. “Jacqui, why don’t you come out? I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

I move toward the vehicle, aware of Rok following close behind me. The interior of the transport is dim after the bright sunlight, and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust. What I see makes my heart ache—makeshift bedding arranged on every available surface, personal items carefully organized to maximize space, evidence of their struggle to create some semblance of order and comfort in this harsh environment.

But no Jacqui.

I emerge from the transport, panic rising in my chest. My gaze sweeps across the group, wondering if I somehow missed her, before my eyes shift to the horizon, as if expecting to see her walking toward us from the endless expanse of sand.

“Where is she?” My voice rises. “Where is my sister?”

The women exchange glances, a silent communication that sends ice through my veins. Finally, Erika steps forward, her face solemn, eyes filled with compassion and regret.

“Justine,” she says softly, “your sister…she…I’m sorry.”

The world seems to tilt beneath my feet. “What do you mean, you’re sorry? Where’s Jacqui?”

Erika swallows hard, unable to meet my gaze for more than a second. “She left about a week ago,” she says finally. “She went to search for you.”

Time stops.

I stagger backward, and would have fallen if not for Rok’s arms suddenly around me, supporting my weight as my knees threaten to give way.

“What?” The word comes out as barely more than a whisper. “What are you saying?”

“We tried to stop her,” Mikaela adds quickly, her face pinched with guilt. “When you didn’t return, we told her it was suicide to go out there alone, but she wouldn’t listen. She held back as long as she could. She said she couldn’t just sit here and wait, not knowing if you were alive or dead. She said…” Mikaela’s voice breaks. “She said she’d never forgive herself if she didn’t try.”

I shake my head, trying to deny the reality of what I’m hearing. My sister, my cautious, responsible sister, ventured alone into the desert to find me. Jacqui is alone out there.

“No.” The word tears from my throat. My knees hit the sand before I realize I’ve fallen. “No, no, no⁠—”