“That’s Mazark. He rules the largest piece of Kenritz, a territory outside our kingdom. Next to him is Lirix, his second-in-command. According to rumors, Mazark’s people are gradually beginning to prefer being ruled by Lirix.”
“Why?”
He shrugs. “Mazark is cruel, and he hates Arix. He’s unable to negotiate from a position of power—instead, he always resorts to threats. That means he has gradually lost more and more territory to Arix in exchange for his help in many of his wars.”
This planet and its politics fascinate me. “I’m new on Agron,” I murmur. “Will you tell me more?”
Nirix grins at me, displaying sharp teeth, and then throws back his drink, gesturing for a servant to bring him another one. He’s already slurring slightly, but his loose tongue may be good news for me as he winks.
“Always happy to talk to a beautiful female,” he says. “What do you want to know?”
“What else can you tell me?”
He grins again and sits back in his chair with a belch that doesn’t go unnoticed by the Braxian female next to him. I hide my own grin as she turns up her nose and shifts her chair closer to the male sitting on her right.
“Okay,” Nirix says. “On one side of the water, we have the barbarian tribes, ruled by tribe kings like Rakiz and Dexar. They negotiate for territory and make alliances based on threats to their people. On this side, we have a king who rules the largest territory, the Kingdom of Heriast. But he’s increasingly alone and vulnerable as his enemies conspire against him.” My heart clenches at that, but Nirix is clearly in his element. He pulls out a piece of paper, and I almost snatch it from his hands as I realize it’s a rough map.
“Here,” he says. “This area to the west is all wilderness, broken up by the many barbaric tribes across the Colossal Water. This here is the water, and to the East, you have Heriast. Southeast of that is Kenritz, which stretches over here until you hit the Prixor Forest.”
“What’s past the forest?”
He shrugs. “The forest is vast, and there are beasties in there that kill anything that enters.”
Of course there are.
A servant tops up Nirix’s cup, and a bell sounds.
“What’s that?”
Nirix sighs, looking mournfully after the servant as she carries the noptri away. “Time for dancing.”
Servants fling open the huge black doors on the right side of the banquet hall, and I follow the crowd into another room. It’s huge, but according to Nirix, this isn’t even half as large as the ballroom, which we’ll be standing in within a few days.
I glance around. Gauzy white material drapes elegantly across the black walls, with huge metal chandeliers hanging above the smooth stone floor, which has been polished until it gleams. The air is redolent with the scent of flowers, while candles have been placed in the centers of small tables dotting the perimeter of the room, providing a place for guests to rest their feet.
Here and there, long, intricately designed scrolls are hanging on the walls—between the white material. They’re covered in characters I can’t read, and the fact they haven’t been moved makes me think maybe they’re important to either Arix or his people.
I glance around the room, wishing my cousin were here. With Arix busy, surely I can skip the rest of the night. I showed my face, so maybe now I can go find Sarissa.
I’m about to do just that when Nirix takes my hand, leading me onto the dance floor as music begins to play. The instruments sound completely different compared to those I’ve heard on Earth, and I crane my neck, attempting to get a good look at them.
“I don’t know these dances,” I protest, and Nirix grins at me.
“I’ll teach you.”
I can feel hot eyes on me, but I avoid glancing around. Arix has more than enough to concentrate on, and Nirix doesn’t mean me any harm. He’s clearly already buzzed, but he shows me a few steps, twirling me in his arms as I deftly avoid colliding with his horns.
Within a few minutes, I’m out of breath, wishing Cauri had not once again tied my dress so tight. I laughingly pull away from Nirix, and he smiles, heading toward a servant who is circling the large room with cups of noptri.
Maybe now I can sneak away. I turn toward the door, bumping into a Braxian guard. He silently holds out a scroll, gesturing for me to take the paper. I reach for it, frowning. “What is it?”
He stalks away, and I shrug, wrinkling my nose as I realize it’s damp.
I unravel it, and my hands shake as they’re suddenly stained with red.
Bile fills my mouth. It’s Sarissa’s handwriting. I raise my head, searching for her in the crowd, but it’s clear she’s already been taken.
Just in case I needed more proof, a long lock of her blonde hair has been attached to the paper. Her writing is stark, and her fury is unmistakable.
DON’T GIVE THEM A FUCKING THING.
It’s obvious this is supposed to be a ransom note. They’ve taken my cousin and made it clear they have her with the blood and the hair.
Only, they can’t write in our language. They’ve assumed my cousin would beg me to go through with our original plan—and betray Arix. But they don’t know Sarissa at all.
Taking her hostage will just plain piss her off. Sarissa is cool under pressure and likely armed with weapons they won’t expect. Unfortunately, she has a tendency to enrage people. She says it’s because angry people make mistakes, but the thought of her infuriating her captors makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Angry people also kill their hostages.
My whole body goes numb as I move through the crowd, slamming into people as I frantically search for Korzyn. I’m cursing myself as
