Page 34 of Alokar
I puttered around the kitchen while the stew simmered, the rich aroma of herbs and tender meat filling the air. Pulling out mismatched plates—one a chipped ceramic bowl painted with faded wildflowers, the other a sturdy pewter dish—that bore the scratches and stains of countless meals, I set the small wooden table just to the right of the fireplace. My heart constricted like a fist around broken glass, remembering the last meal my dad and I ate here—just two days before Yaard murdered him, a moment that now felt like echoes from another lifetime.
“What’s next? Do we head back into the mountains after Yaard?” I asked, my voice carrying the sharp edge of vengeance. I would not give up until I saw Yaard dead.
Ewok leaned against the weathered counter, his muscular arms crossed over his broad chest, while an expression of deep pondering crossed his features, his brown eyes distant and calculating. “After all this time without catching even the faintest trace of his scent, I believe Yaard is dead. I will need to visit the cavern Duke Ako told me about and try to locate the body. The Alliance will need proof of Yaard’s demise.”
I shuddered at the grim idea ofproof—imagining what weeks of decay might have done—but I wanted that closure myself, needed it. “Skadulgwas Peak is about thirty miles south of here. We can leave first thing in the morning.”
“Hannah.” Ewok only said my name, but I knew that tone—the careful weight of it, hesitation born out of protectiveness.
“I’ll take you in the truck,” I suggested, my voice brimming with determination. “We can get there quicker.”
“Hannah, what I must do might not be pleasant. Yaard has been dead for a few weeks.” Ewok warned, his deep voice gentle but unflinching in its honesty.
I didn’t tell him the imaginings in my head already resembled some slasher gore horror movie, complete with the stench of death and the sight of bones picked clean. “Then, I’ll wait for you at the truck.” I stepped closer, letting my hand rest on his thick forearm, the soft fur tickling my palm. “I’m not letting you go alone.”
Ewok sighed—a sound that rumbled deep in his chest—and opened his arms, settling me against the solid warmth of his body. I smiled in response, laying my cheek against where his heart beat steady and strong beneath layers of muscle and fur, loving the enveloping crush of his embrace, breathing in his wild, earthy scent. We stood there in the faint glow of the rising moon streaming through the window, just holding each other, until the sharp shriek of the kettle made me reluctantly pull from his arms.
We worked together in the companionable silence that had become such a precious comfort—moving around each other with practiced ease as I ladled the thick, savory stew intoour mismatched plates while Ewok prepared steaming mugs of tea. The rich aroma of herbs and meat mingled with the earthy scent of the brewing tea, creating a cozy oasis in the small kitchen. I rummaged through the cabinet until my fingers found a sleeve of saltine crackers, the packaging crinkled and worn. They were a little stale when I tested one between my teeth, but still edible enough to serve their purpose.
We settled at the rickety wooden table, its surface scarred by years of use and memories. Ewok’s features twisted into a skeptical frown as he gazed down at his bowl of canned stew, doubt reflected in those teddy bear eyes. But as he drew in the steaming, herb-laden scent that rose from the surface, his expression gradually softened. When he took his first careful bite, his eyes widened slightly in pleasant surprise, and I caught the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“How long do you think it will take you to find Yaard, if he’s dead?” I asked, methodically crumbling the crackers between my fingers and watching the pale fragments disappear into the dark broth—they tasted less stale that way.
“Not long,” Ewok paused mid-motion, the spoon hovering inches from his mouth as he tapped his broad nose with his other hand.
“Then what?” The question hung in the air between us.
“Then I take proof of Yaard’s demise to the Alliance.” His voice carried the weight of duty and finality.
Translation—he would leave. The realization hit me like a physical blow, making my stomach clench and the stew within it turn rocky and sour.
“You could hang around for a while,” I suggested, trying to keep my voice light and casual despite the desperate hope clawing at my chest. “Or maybe come back after you deliver the proof.” I hated the way the cuddwisg device made him itch, but if he stayed at the cabin or deep in the mountains, there would be little need for it.
Ewok sighed, a deep, rumbling sound that seemed to emanate from his very soul. His large, warm hand captured my restless fingers that had been drumming an anxious rhythm against the tabletop. “I would like nothing more, but I cannot.”
“Just for a little while,” I said with an exaggerated pout, though beneath the teasing facade, my heart was genuinely begging, pleading with whatever godly forces that might be listening.
Ewok’s fingers tightened around mine, his grip both gentle and desperate, while a deeply troubled expression settled across his face. His honey-brown eyes, usually so confident and sure, now swirled with worry and something that looked like regret. “There is something I haven’t told you.”
My stomach performed a sickening flip, making the stew settle like lead in my belly. “Something other than being an alien?” I asked. At least his news wouldn’t be about some long-forgotten wife—we’d already covered that.
“Yes.” His smile was barely there, a ghost of warmth that didn’t reach his eyes. He drew in a deep, steadying breath, his powerful shoulders straightening as if preparing to bear a great weight, his gaze locking with mine. “I am king to my people.”
“Huh?” I blinked at him, certain I’d misheard. “A king? Like actual royalty?”
“Yes.” There was no joy, no pride in his answer—only the heavy burden of unwanted responsibility. “My birth parents were King Ardika Vey and Queen Paluma Oy. Yaard murdered them in an attempt to seize the throne. His plan was to keep my older sister in exile until she came of age to mate, then claim the throne through her.”
“And he threw you on that mining moon thinking it would kill you,” I said, my voice shaking with renewed fury.
Ewok nodded. “My sister rules as regent on Kerzak until I come of age and must take the throne,” he continued, his voice heavy.
“How old do you have to be to take the throne?” I asked, though fully grown, he’d only been that way a short while.
“I must claim the throne within fifty years of becoming an adult,” Ewok said, his frown deepening as if the timeline itself was a burden.
“So, you’ve been an adult for about two weeks? You’ve got some time.” Fifty years was a long time by Earth’s standards.
“Some,” he muttered darkly, though he didn’t seem the least bit heartened by the prospect.
