words in my mates’ brains—Shiloh, worried, mate.
His mate is…Shiloh?
I almost pass out as tears fill my eyes, knowing my Harvest sister is safe and protected. I must make a noise, because he turns back to me, watching me for a moment before he smiles softly. I hear the next words through my mates’ heads…
How about we start at the beginning?
Thirty-Seven
Sevnyk
“General Trov, don’t you remember us?” The general swings his eyes to me, so familiar yet foreign. A flash of recognition in his eyes has hope filling my chest, but soon his gaze hardens as he stares at Harlow. For a moment, I thought he had placed us, but now he seems to be having trouble.
My mate’s hand tightens around mine as she suffers his oppressive gaze. “My guards think you might be Klan Gryme,” he informs us, flicking his eyes back to me. “A Klan who stands accused of murder, kidnapping, and enslavement, none of which are tolerated. Explain yourselves!”
Harlow jumps at his shout, and a growl escapes my chest at the mere mention of Klan Gryme, but I try to staunch my emotions, needing to keep myself, and Dev, under control.
“We are not Klan Gryme,” I announce firmly. “We’ve never even met those brown-furred vekks.”
“Those vekkers deserve to suffer worse than our…than Harlow did,” Dev growls, glaring at the general. I’m assuming we want to keep the fact that she’s mated a secret for now?
Yes, but the general is not a stupid Totiv, he will put two and two together eventually, recognising the marks on Harlow’s shoulders as more than inflicted torture, I respond.
Trov crosses his arms over his broad chest, his red wings rustling in irritation, and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “So you admit that you are aware of her suffering?”
“Well of course we vekking are,” Dev growls. “We’ve taken care of the poor female, nursed her back to health. She was almost dead when we found her.”
What’s he saying? Harlow inquires, her voice soft and worried.
Just asking questions, trying to figure out who we are, Dev answers.
General Trov pauses for a moment, striding back and forth on the opposite side of the table which Dev, Harlow, and I are sitting at. “Then how do you know what Klan Gryme looks like if you’ve never even met them?”
Point for the general.
Dev and I exchange a glance. How do we get him to trust us?
“It’s a long story—” I begin.
“I have all vekking day,” General Trov interjects, pausing in front of the table. Placing his fists on the metal, he leans in, trying to intimidate us with his massive size. “I already know that you are not Klan Gryme,” he admits. “But your story isn’t adding up. So let’s start simple. To what Klan do you belong?”
“We have no Klan,” I tell him.
Trov’s eyes narrow. “So you admit that you are Drykken?”
“What the vekk is a Drykken?” Dev growls.
General Trov’s eyes flicker from me to my twinling. “And the female has a broken chip and is unable to answer my questions… How convenient…”
Dev makes a move to respond, but I reach across Harlow and hold his arm. Don’t do anything stupid, elon.
The only thing stupid around here is the way the general is acting, Dev counters with a glare.
General Trov watches us with knowing eyes, then prowls to the door, opens it, and whispers to someone outside. A moment later, another Totiv enters wearing a white doctor’s coat. He is much thinner than Dev and me, with blue skin and a bald head. His looks are so similar to a human’s, he could almost pass as one if he wasn’t blue and didn’t have pointed ears.
“This is Doctor Mytari of Klan Zolki,” the general introduces us. “He holds degrees in human psychology, behavioural therapy, and speaks many dialects of the human language. I brought him in to translate for the female.”
“Harlow. Her name is Harlow,” Dev corrects him. “Please do not disrespect her by calling her female. She’s been through enough already without you degrading her.”
General Trov’s eyes widen in shock. “I have no intentions of causing offense—”
“Well, you sure aren’t acting like it,” Dev interrupts. “All you’re doing is accosting us, as if we are the Klan who stole and hurt her. We care more about her than you could possibly imagine.”
“Oh, I can imagine quite well,” the general replies coolly. “Do not forget that my mate is her Harvest sister.”
Dev scowls in response as Doctor Mytari lowers himself into the chair across from us. He smiles