The Alien's Revenge - Ella Maven Page 0,54

They represented a loss of freedom. It wasn’t lost on me I’d spent many cycles mourning the loss of home, and now that I returned … it didn’t feel like home anymore.

But it didn’t matter. The Night Kings were my home because that was where Merr-anda was happiest. I’d lock myself in a cramped cage for her.

“Drak,” a voice said over my shoulder and I jolted at the sound. Behind me stood Ward, Gar, Daz, and Sax. Sax had tried to convince his brother to stay behind. The drexel of a clavas was important and must be protected at all costs, but Daz had never been the kind of leader to hide behind his walls and make his warriors do his dirty work.

I would have preferred to do this entire mission alone, but that wasn’t the Drixonian way. I was a part of a clavas now. I had warrior brothers, even if I didn’t know them well anymore. They certainly didn’t know me.

I led the way, Daz behind me, the rest of the warriors bringing up the rear. Sax complained about the heat while Ward and Daz talked about Crius.

“What do you think he meant?” Daz asked his fellow warrior.

“I’ve been thinking about this since he said the words. I’m not sure. What were the Uldani offering him?”

“It makes no sense,” Daz said.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Gar growled. “He’s just a treasonous bastard. And now he’s gone. Good riddance.”

Was that what they’d said about me when I’d been cast out?

We reached the area of my former home mid-day. I scaled the tree leading to my hut quickly, knowing exactly where to place my hands and feet. The other warriors followed behind slower, picking their way carefully. Gar was last, muttering curses the whole way about how heights were Fatas-cursed.

A memory struck me as I watched them ascend—Ward and I eating fruit in a tree, legs dangling, while Gar glared at us from below, begging us to throw down some food for him since he refused to climb and join us.

I remained on my perch, the other warriors filing past me on the branch until only Gar remained, huffing and puffing. I reached out a hand and helped him the rest of the way. “I see … heights are still your enemy.” I couldn’t hold back a smile.

Gar’s narrowed his eyes. “Fleck you. A flecking hut in a tree. Bastard.”

Ward laughed, and I did too as Gar, who seemed afraid of nothing, shivered as he risked a glance downward.

I turned to find the other warriors watching me curiously. I shrugged. “I remembered.”

Ward reached out and squeezed my shoulder. “Well, in case you don’t remember this, a Drak smile was always rare, but teasing Gar was one of your favorite things to do.”

I cocked my head. “Is that right?”

He nodded, eyes shining with amusement. “It’s true.”

“Let’s get on with it,” Gar groused, giving me a gentle shove from behind.

I took a step forward and stopped dead as I cast a look over the burnt shell of what remained of my home for fifteen cycles. I swallowed around a dry, scratchy throat, feeling like someone scooped out my insides and set fire to them. When I’d had nothing and no one, I’d made my own home, a refuge in the trees where I was safe from the prowling Rizars and pivars. Where I could hear visitors long before they could see me. I’d camouflaged the entire structure so well that unless you were right on top of it, you couldn’t see it.

The Kulks probably used Uldani tech to find it, and that made my blood boil in my veins.

“Fleck,” Sax muttered.

The floor, while blackened and full of holes, was still there, as well as half of my back wall. The window I’d cut out was still visible, and I could picture Merr-anda sitting in the spot left by the sun’s rays, tending to a bloom she’d picked that day.

I walked closer, testing the branches. Fortunately, it had rained the morning of the fire, so the tree remained mostly intact. My home, not so much. I couldn’t go any further, stuck in a trance as I imagined all I’d accomplished in that home, the most miserable parts of my life as well as the happiest.

A shoulder brushed past mine, and Daz stepped in front of me, hands on his hips, and his head hung low. He heaved a heavy sign and looked back at me. Guilt hung heavy on his proud features. “I’m sorry