Page 7 of Romancing Rem'eb

Bel’eb the Mighty looks as he always does. His shoulders are back, his chest full and proud. His mane is a stark pale gray but his face is unlined, his horns sharp. He wears the medallion of the ancestors that he won many years ago in combat, proving his worthiness as chief.

My lip curls in disgust as I see the male hovering over his shoulder. “Kin’far the Exile. I should not be surprised to see you here, spreading your filth. What poison are you whispering in my father’s ears?”

The exiled male smirks, crossing one set of arms over his chest. “I am merely proving my loyalty to Bel’eb the Mighty, sharing the wealth I have brought back.”

“Not more fruits plucked from the forbidden gardens? You have been told?—”

“Not fruit.” He lets out a little giggle that sets my nerves on edge. “Something that tastes far sweeter.”

My father raises his hand. “Enough from both of you. Kin’far is here because he has done us a great favor. I thank him for his loyalty. He hopes to someday prove that he is worthy to dwell within the Village of Those Who Remain once more.”

Him?

I spit on the floor in front of my feet. That is what I think of Kin’far the Exile.

My father’s eyes narrow. He turns toward the exile. “Leave us. We will speak again soon. Send Cas’zor back to me.”

Kin’far nods and slinks away from my father’s seat, receding into the shadows. A few moments later, Cas’zor the Worthy returns. He is Tan’zor’s eldest brother and has long been a trusted assistant to my father. I like him far more than the exile, and I can tell from the stiff look on the warrior’s face that he does not approve of Kin’far or his antics either. He moves to take his place at my father’s side, his expression unreadable.

“Has there been another raid on the above lands?” I ask, unable to stand all the subterfuge. “You know I do not approve. There is no sense in poking a lizard’s nest. It is a sure way to get bitten.”

My father waves my concerns away with an idle hand. “You worry too much, my son.”

“Noj’me the Attendant has spoken to the oracle. It warns us?—”

“Of the people above. Yes, yes, I am well aware.” My father’s eyes gleam and he leans forward in his chair. “I am not afraid of them. Nor am I afraid of the oracle’s nonsense. I have a solution to our problems, my son, and you should be grateful.”

I draw back in surprise. “A solution to the rebels?”

How is that possible? The rebels hide in corners, letting their whispers carry their discontent. They will not be satisfied until the females of our people are taken out from behind the wall and mingle freely with us once more. Even if it costs the lives of many, they want a return to the old ways. My father opposes it, because it will destroy what is left of us. Even now when I walk through the streets, there are too many empty homes, too many families that have been wiped out completely. It is not a solution, but the rebels think with their cocks alone.

“Bah, the rebels.” My father rolls his eyes and waves his hand again as if it were batting away a troubling bit of ash in the air. “Spoiled brats, all of them. Their rebellion will die down when they mature. No, I have a solution for our family. To protecting our line.”

Now I am the one that wants to roll my eyes. Ever since I turned of age, my father has had great interest in me resonating. When I turned into a warrior, he made me walk past the wall multiple times a day, certain that I would find my mate, impregnate her, and then we could begin to rebuild our line once more. But as ten turns have passed and my khui has remained silent, he has given up on me.

Today, however, my father’s eyes have a maniacal light in them as he regards me. “If I show you something, Rem’eb, you must swear not to tell a single person.”

I hold back my frown. “I swear.”

“Not even So’ran the Bitter.”

That makes me pause. So’ran was my childhood friend…but he is also the leader of the rebels now. “I no longer speak to So’ran. He is opposed to everything our house stands for.”

“This information will make him angry.” Bel’eb the Mighty leans forward on his seat. “For we have found something we will not share.”

They went to the forbidden gardens again. I am certain of it. Biting back my disappointment, I keep my expression neutral. “What is it?”

“We went to the garden of the strangers again.” His voice lowers to a whisper. “But this time, there were people in it.”

My brows go up. “People? People above? The blue ones? I thought they all died out long ago. How can they survive in such cold?”

“The exile finds treasures they leave in caves,” my father continues. “Foodstuffs. Furs. Carvings. He steals bits here and there. Nothing they will miss.”

The exile again. I hate that he speaks to my father. No good can come of Kin’far and the poison he drips in my father’s ear. I cannot help but think that Kin’far will be the first to cry about the curses the above-grounders have, and yet he is the one that steals from them. If there is a curse, he is not afraid of it. “I see. So he mocks the rules that we have established to keep our people safe.”

“Bah,” my father says. “It is not mockery.”

“We are not to provoke those that live above. That is an old, old rule. As Chief’s Fist, I must point this out.”

---