Page 68 of Venomous Lust
She knew she was selfish, but she couldn’t accept losing him, not even to save so many others. Yet, he wasn’t going to listen to her, and he shouldn’t. They couldn’t stay here with the Muharee people, couldn’t hide under the Medina Forest and pretend they had tried their best.
Everything they had ever loved and known would perish or be enslaved if Knut got what he wanted.
And Knut always got what he wanted.
Knut’s face came to her mind, his fine, aristocratic features. Those purple eyes full of sickness and greed. Hatred bubbled inside Hazel, hot and toxic like nothing she ever felt before.
He’s not getting what he wants this time. This time, he’s going to die.
“No, you are not. I won’t accept this. I won’t lose you.” She shook her head. “I will talk to Yalko, make him see that he needs to fight with us.”
“You see the best in people.” Khal smiled at her, but it was a sad smile. “The Muharee won’t help. They agreed to escort us to the edge of the Medina Forest, but that is all. They view us all as enemies. They will never trust an Eok, never ally themselves with one.”
“An Eok, maybe not,” Hazel agreed. “But they might ally themselves with a human.”
Khal looked at her for a long time, then he nodded. “Blood is still owed.”
“Blood is owed,” Hazel echoed. “And I am calling in the debt.”
It took Hazel over an hour to persuade Khal that she was strong enough to walk, but at last, he had relented.
She stood on unsteady feet, her hands running over the green fabric of the clothing the Muharee had left for them. At her side, Khal was similarly dressed, wrapped in the tight-fitting pants and coat that ran up to his neck. The clothing was designed to cover all the visible skin, and yet it was weirdly pleasant to wear. It felt soft, yet tough, as flexible as a second skin. Wearing this, the Muharee hid from the Medina when they walked, allowing them to go unmolested through the carnivorous forest.
Khal’s arms wrapped around her protectively as they made their way out of the room and into a long hallway carved into the rock. Everywhere, the veins of the Medina Forest illuminated the way, casting a soft golden glow over the bare floor and walls.
Pushed by curiosity, Hazel flattened her hand against the golden vein. Fear fluttered in her belly at the memory of the pain the Medina could inflict, but she kept her hand there. The vein was faintly warm under her palm, distinctly different from the rocks around it in both temperature and texture. As she ran the tip of her finger over it, it pulsed lightly—it was not as hard as the rock, but had slight give.
The Medina is everywhere on Muhar.
Yalko’s words came back to her mind, as well as the reverence with which he had touched the golden veins. She understood now what he meant, how he felt.
Theirs was a symbiotic relationship. The Muharee lived off their Mother Forest, fed by her, protected by her, lit by her and, in exchange, the Muharee fed her with the bodies of their deceased and protected her in return.
As they walked on, they could hear voices far away in the distance. Then, they finally arrived in a large, round room with a high ceiling whose golden veins descended into what could only be described as a chandelier made of living matter.
The room was full of people, buzzing around, talking and laughing. Children ran between adults, darting fast, lost in their games. At the very end of the room sat Yalko in a chair made entirely of the golden veins mixed with green. A throne, Hazel realized.
As soon as they came into view, the entire room was plunged into silence, like all the words had been sucked from the air.
Heads all turned their way, yellow eyes gleaming with emotions, from fear to outright hatred. Khal held Hazel closer to him, his face carefully neutral and his eyes alert as they walked on. The crowd split as they approached, parting a dozen feet in front of them and closing behind them as they went. As Hazel progressed through the Muharee crowd, she noticed something strange. Most of them were females and children, with few males sprinkled around the room, towering above the others.
Then, they were finally in front of Yalko.
His yellow eyes were on them, his unreadable reptilian gaze unwavering. Tension was a breathing, living thing in the air as all the Muharee turned expectant stares to their chieftain.
“My people are wary of strangers,” Yalko said in his broken-glass voice, as unreadable as his face. “You are the first they have seen in a long time.”
Since Gerkin slaughtered them like sheep, Yalko meant. The reminder of the horrors imposed on his people by an Eok warrior was no random act.
He was sending them a message. No, more than a message. He was sending them a warning.
Yalko moved to meet them, his green clothing subtly different than that of the rest of the people in the crowd. Fine veins of gold ran across it in complex, natural patterns that were both mesmerizing and elegant. For the first time, Hazel saw Yalko for what he was: a chieftain to his people, the guardian of their safety. He exuded power in everything he did, in the way he stood tall, moved with the confident ease of one accustomed to being in charge.
“You seem to have mended well under the care of the healer.” Yalko looked up and down Hazel with a satisfied nod. “Your body was stronger than it looked, it took well to the nurturing of the Mother Forest.”
There was steel in Yalko as he watched her, and the crowd gathered subtly closer. Danger hovered in the air above the assembled Muharee in an almost palpable cloud. Hazel glanced around at the faces looking down at her. These people were allies now, but they could just as easily turn on her and Khal at the whim of Yalko. And Yalko’s only desire was to keep his people safe. If she threatened them, he would not hesitate to hurt her and Khal, she had no doubt about that.
I can’t back down. If we don’t stop Knut, then all is finished anyway.
