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Cordelia sprinted to Rentir, and he snatched her close, tucking her behind him as he drew his blaster.

“Female,” the other male mused, looking down at the bloodied tip of his blade with his third eye. “A strange flavor.”

Rentir’s lip peeled back from his fangs as he snarled, but Cordelia caught at his arm as he brought his blaster up.

“Don’t,” she whispered, looking anxiously between the two males. Did she not think he could protect her? Indignity made him bristle.

“I am Melam,” the other male announced, sheathing his blade at his thigh. “The lodge is my home. I was a guide before the rebellion.” He held up all four hands when Rentir, hand still tense on his blaster, didn’t return the introduction. “Peace. I would not have harmed her.”

“Yet you did,” Rentir said, remembering that drop of blood.

“Rentir, it’s okay.” Cordelia moved to stand beside him.

Rentir’s scyra retracted, and his tail wound around her waist, anchoring her where she was safest—within his reach. For a moment, he was sure she would pry him away as she had so many times before. Mercifully, she only glanced down inacknowledgment and turned her attention to Melam. She held her hands up in a symbol of surrender, galling him.

“We got off to a bad start here. Let’s start over. I’m Cordelia, and this is Rentir.”

“What are you doing here?” Rentir asked, earning an exasperated look from Cordelia.

“As I said, this is my home,” Melam said.

“This facility was evacuated. There should not be anyone here.”

“Evacuated. Is that what you call leading two dozen people to their deaths?”

Rentir stiffened as regret panged in his gut. The evacuation had not been his call, but every hybrid death was a splinter beneath his skin, regardless.

“What’s he talking about?” Cordelia asked quietly.

“The evacuation operation was not successful,” Rentir explained with reluctance.

“Let me guess, giant laser?”

“A missile. One that this male’s ilk”—Melam pointed one long finger at Rentir—“knew the Aurillon possessed. Yet they chose to tempt their wrath. Rash actions have harsh consequences.”

“No one was forced to board the evacuation ship. We lost people, as well. Four gave up their lives to try and bring the others to safety.”

Melam regarded him silently for a moment, then nodded slowly. “You speak truthfully. No one was forced to board the ship, yet I cannot help my resentment. They were good males who should not have met such an end.”

“We feared they would strike the lodge. It is not as secure as the base is. We did only what we thought was in their best interest. If that missile had been aimed at this building made of glass and lumber, we did not believe any of you would survive.”When Melam said nothing, Rentir added, “Two of yours lived. It may be little comfort, given how many were lost, but…”

Melam straightened. “Two? Who?”

“Iath and Yuren.”

Melam’s shoulders sagged.

“Not who you hoped?” Cordelia asked softly.

He turned a look of anguish on her, regarding her for a moment before nodding. “My brother, Wellen. The only other of my batch to make it to maturity.”

“Only one?” Rentir asked in disbelief.

Melam set his lower hands on his hips. “We were only ten to start. Novelties for the pleasure-seekers at the lodge to gawp at.” He gestured broadly around the building. “Not much use for ten of us in a place this small, so we were culled with great prejudice. I suppose I was the strangest amalgamation, the most delightful to stare at. Wellen was the strongest of us.” He sighed, looking up at the ceiling and blinking rapidly. “I could not convince him to stay with me on that day. He was sure they would have destroyed this place in time to send a message. Too vulnerable, he said. And now, where are you, you fool?”

Rentir held his tongue, at a loss for anything helpful to say.

“I’m sorry,” Cordelia said earnestly.