Poison Tree

away.

Sarik raised a brow and remarked, “He isn’t your subject.”

Jeht paused to consider the words, and then replied, “He does not seem to know that. He tends the re. He makes us …” He paused, saying in English, “Cider.” He waited until Sarik nodded to confirm that he had said the unfamiliar word correctly. “He brings us our meals.”

“He is trying to take care of you.” He sees you as children, she almost added. By the standards of the Mistari, Jeht was almost an adult. He and his brother were also princes.

Calling him a child was not a good idea. She was going to have to talk to Mark about how to respond to the boy, who had to understand that this world didn’t revolve around concepts of master and subject, strong and weak.

Instead, she said, “You and your brother have been here long enough that you should learn where you can get your own food.” Showing them the cafeteria would give them more independence and give them less of a sense that other people should wait on them.

Jeht glanced back at the four-year-old Quean, who was watching them sleepily, and Sarik added, “I can show you first, and then you can explain to your brother later.”

“As you wish,” Jeht answered. He trusted her word that the younger boy would be safe here.

Unfortunately, this particular SingleEarth Haven was currently less safe than Sarik would have liked, even though Mark and the hunters were keeping a close eye on the tiger children.

“While you live here,” she explained as she led the way, “you are allowed to have meals in the …” She didn’t know the word “cafeteria.” “A common kitchen and meal room. You can choose what you want.”

She did not realize she had said something wrong until she felt Jeht hesitate beside her, and he said in a formal tone, “Sana’kaen.” Literally, the phrase meant “You make right,” but it implied that he was deferring to her authority despite disagreement or distress.

Sarik thought back over her own words and realized what she had said. In the Mistari camps, he had probably eaten with his family and other high-ranking individuals. It wasn’t a tradition Sarik’s father had bothered with, so she didn’t think about it while attempting to translate the concept of a cafeteria. In Jeht’s mind, she had demoted him.

“We do not eat by rank here,” she tried to explain. “Where and what and with whom you eat implies nothing about you or your status.”

“Quean is very young,” Jeht said. “He will learn quickly. I do not want him to learn badly while we are here.”

That was the other conversation that needed to be had.

“Jeht …” Sarik drew a deep breath before saying, “I think it would be a good idea for you to learn the ways of this place. I am trying everything I can, but so far I have not been able to find a way to get you back to the Mistari camps.”

Jeht froze, all expression draining from his face. She reached for him, wanting to be comforting, but he recoiled as he asked, “Then what will happen to us?”

“You are safe here,” Sarik said quickly. “As I promised you before, you may remain here as long as you like. SingleEarth will provide teachers, so you can learn local customs, and the language. It is a good life.”

“It is a good life for you, but it is not my life,” he replied.

In many ways, their native language was much more explicit than English. The fact that he dropped the formal pronoun for her but used one for himself made his full meaning clear.

“I will keep trying,” Sarik said, “but in the meantime, I need you to make an effort to—”

“I wish to leave,” Jeht said atly. “If you cannot help us, then we have a better chance of returning home if we do not accept charity from outsiders.”

“You can’t just leave,” she protested. “You’re—” Children. “You don’t know how to survive here.”

“Are we prisoners?” he inquired.

She said it this time. “You’re children, in this society’s eyes. Even if you leave here, you will not be allowed to wander on your own. Someone will call the police again, like they did before, when you were first brought here.”

She could see the fury in his eyes, but she could do nothing about it, except hope that he would be wise enough to believe her. Leaving SingleEarth would gain him nothing.

It was a horrible thought, but she realized she was going to need to warn the hunters that Jeht could be just as dangerous as any outside threat. Even a Mistari child could be deadly in a fight, if he thought SingleEarth was keeping him and his brother captive.

What would Sarik have done when she was Jeht’s age if she had been thrown out and offered a chance in SingleEarth?

Cori had been four. She had been lively and cheerful, a little quiet, but she had adored her older sister. She had also been just old enough for their father to emotionally disown her when it became obvious that she lacked the ability to shapeshift and for Sarik’s mother to storm out in a fury when she discovered that her mate had been fooling around with a human. His having another woman on the side had been forgivable in her eyes, but she had been disgusted that her mate had sullied the pure Mistari blood by mixing it with what she saw as a lesser creature’s.

And Sarik … where had Sarik been? She hadn’t had any idea what life was like for Cori.

She lived in a rough world; even at nine years old, she had understood that. Her father had been proud that she had been able to hold her own.

Eventually, his pride hadn’t mattered enough. Eventually, the ghts had become too much. Sarik had tried so hard to seem strong, but she’d started to hate the bloodshed more and more. The weakness showed, until her enemies became bold enough to go after Cori.

When Cori had died, it had killed who Sarik had been. But at Jeht’s age? Sarik hadn’t known any way to live besides the one she’d grown up with. She probably would have killed someone, if doing so had been the only way to get her home.

As if it had been cued by her thoughts, she heard Alysia’s voice. Looking up, she saw the human with Lynzi and—

Christian.

She turned toward Jeht, trying to conceal the way her heart was pounding and her mouth had just gone dry. What was he doing here?

He was across the room. He hadn’t seen her. He hadn’t seen Jeht. She couldn’t a ord for him to see either of them, so she hastily led Jeht back outside, toward his own territory.

The leader of Onyx is a tiger. An old-school heavy hitter with ties back to the Mistari high queen, if rumors are to be believed.

She remembered Jason’s warnings. She had also considered something he had not: if Jeht had known what Jason had said earlier, he would have run to Christian. By protecting herself, Sarik was denying him that chance.

“Give me a little more time,” she said to Jeht. “If you want to return to the Mistari camps, you know that you need a king to accept you as part of his tribe. I haven’t entirely exhausted my contacts.”

The words were bitter in her mouth. Could she do this?

By Mistari law, she had left her father long enough ago that she could declare herself a free woman. He had no claim to her unless she allowed it. On the other hand, she had no authority in the Mistari main camps unless he acknowledged her.

With her father’s blessing, she would be able to contact the leaders of the Mistari and try to nd a tribe that would take in Jeht and Quean. A tribe that didn’t revolve around bloodshed and brute force. At the same time, if she could nd the courage to face him, she could remove the looming ax of terror that threatened to fall on her at the simplest mention of someone like Christian Denmark.

“I will wait, if you think it best,” Jeht said.

He did not say how long.

Bolstering her courage by telling herself she was doing the right thing, Sarik left Jeht with his brother, and then returned to the administration building and picked up one of the disposable cell phones kept on hand for