Page 23 of Orange Tundra
"The guards are ready," Kaelor announced suddenly. "I've prepared them for this day. Some will join us, while others must remain to watch the truly dangerous prisoners."
What guards? What the fuck is this mad Seer talking about? And why does it look like Elder Onork is siding with this mad man?
The clash of steel made me whirl around. Xy's sword met Zulkir's in a shower of sparks.
"Stop!" Kaelor commanded in his raspy voice. "Zulkir is one of us."
The fuck? Sim and I briefly traded glances then glared at Xy. Xy surprisingly looked shocked as well. Very few manasties can shock him. What has happened to the Purple Tribe? Betrayals, the information leak, and our own tribe having their own agendas!
I studied the prison warden more carefully, noting the subtle white markings that betrayed his mixed heritage. He lowered his weapon, smiling.
"Your lovely prisoner doesn't smell like a Neko," Zulkir observed, earning warning growls from Sim and me.
"What does she smell like?" Sim demanded.
"Like her mates," Zulkir replied simply.
Sinx nodded. "I noticed it when we first met, Brynn. No Neko scent at all."
"First," I cut in sharply, "no one refers to them as 'she.' Brynn must remain male and Neko as far as anyone else is concerned."
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the group.
I nodded to Xy, who lowered his sword. Zulkir bowed slightly. "Thank you, Kru'h Nim."
Xy tensed at the use of the honorific - few could tell us apart. Zulkir's smile widened. "You smell more like your alpha father," he said to me, leaving the implication hanging.
"Some of us know you're not really twins," Sinx stated boldly.
Clitasoxdfwe'h's daggers appeared in his hands. "In the Purple Tribe, such words earn death or a severed tongue."
"Cut it out," Sim sighed.
A loud growl - this time from Brynn's stomach - broke the tension.
"The little ones are hungry!" Nif boomed, earning simultaneous smacks from CG and Clitasoxdfwe'h while Sinx sighed heavily.
My concern must have shown because Zulkir spoke up. "We have quarters for visiting royalty. Barely used," he added dryly.
"Sim, take care of Brynn," I said.
"But I need to talk to Onork-" Brynn protested, then blushed as her stomach growled again. "Okay, maybe I am hungry."
"I'll finalize our strategy here before we head to the White Tribe kingdom," I said. When Sim opened his mouth to object - we were supposed to go to Orange Lake - I shook my head. That would have to wait.
13
BRYNN
The room Zulkirled us to was barely larger than a closet. Sim stepped inside first, his tail flicking with irritation as he surveyed the cramped space.
“Barely the size of my wardrobe,” he muttered, running a hand along the stone wall.
I followed him in, taking in the sparse furnishings - a narrow bed, a small table, and two chairs that had seen better days. The air felt thick and stale, like the room hadn’t been used in years. Despite the “royal” designation, it felt more like a glorified cell.
Sim guided me to one of the chairs, his movements careful and deliberate. A covered tray sat on the table, and when he lifted the lid, the smell of fresh bread and meat made my stomach growl embarrassingly loud.
“Eat,” he said, pushing a bowl into my hands. His golden eyes watched me intently as I took the first bite.
