Stolen by the Zandian (Zandian Brides 7)

“I deserve to think about him every day and suffer for what happened.”

She squeezes my hand. “We humans, the ones the Kraa worked on, we had a technique. We said we’d reserved a certain period of time each solar rotation for worrying about things we can’t change. The rest of the time we’d try to focus on living as well as we could despite our circumstances.”

“Did that work?” I frown. She said we, and I want to follow up on that later, but for now all I can think about is my brother and the memories.

“Not for everything. But even a little bit helps.” She strokes my arm.

“And that applies to me how?” My voice is still stiff.

“Do you really think you are honoring his memory by continuing to suffer and doing subpar work? Would he wish this for you or your planet?” She pauses. “Maybe you don’t need to punish yourself constantly, especially if it puts others at risk. Think of him each rotation once, and the rest of the time, allow yourself to put the memories aside. At least the part where you castigate yourself.”

The idea is like a bolt of lightning. Never once have I considered allowing myself not to suffer at these memories. The concept that I could put down the pain of my brother and move forward is so novel and exhilarating that I blink.

“Perhaps,” is all I say to her, though.

She sighs.

“You mentioned...other humans?” I’m eager to change the topic, and I do want to learn about her life and experiences.

“Oh, they made more than one of me. They wanted an army.” Now she’s the one stiffening up. “Many of their so-called prototypes failed and were eliminated.” She looks up at me. “That means killed.” Her voice is heavy with anger and pain.

“I assumed as much.” My voice is somber.

“They’d bunk several of us together and have us train together.” Her voice is contemplative. “Sometimes we’d compete to see who was best at tasks. They didn’t want us to join forces, but they learned that humans die faster if they’re too isolated.” She laughs, a sound with no humor. “Their allowances for us were based solely on monetary value and survival.”

“Where are the others?” I stroke her arm.

She swallows and turns her head. “I don’t know. They were all sold before I was.” Her voice cracks, and she wipes her eyes. “Now it’s just me.” Whatever happened to the other humans, she’s clearly in pain.

“Kailani.” I hold her closer. “I’m sorry.”

“But I’m away from the Kraa.” She sounds surprised, still, at this new twist of fate. “And alive. I’m grateful.”

Outside the cave, the hail is gone, and the rain has lessened to a drizzle. The newly formed river below us still roils like it’s alive, a thick, silver-gray serpent angrily twisting along the landscape. An entire uprooted tree bobs along like a branch in the furious waters.

“That river is impassable. But at least the sky is calm enough that we could leave the cave.” She leans forward and looks up at the gray sky. The two suns are hidden behind thick clouds, but a single wan ray tentatively shoots out.

“And that’s a problem. Because if we can venture out, so can the locals. And you can be sure they’re coming for us.”

Chapter 8

Kailani

I crawl out of the cave and peer left and right; there are no signs of life at all—no antlex, no natives. Just the roaring water, and beyond it, the fields. And somewhere far in the distance, I assume, our bags of flowers. The sky is still gray, but little patches of silver and pink peek through, making that solitary beam of sun seem friendly. Like nature is on our side.

“We need to get across that water first.” Khrys stands beside me, tall and powerful. “We’ll find the narrowest part of the wash and lay something across it. Perhaps I can find a tree trunk as a bridge.”

But even as he speaks, the water slows down. “Or not. It is seeping into the ground that quickly?” He sounds surprised. “The soil here is different from Zandia.”

“That’s good for us.” I stretch out my calves as the water recedes, almost as quickly as it came. “Khrys, please, can we go back and check for the flowers?”

The supplication in my voice is painful to hear, but without them, I don’t know how I’ll make it. He looks into my eyes for a long second, clearly trying to make some kind of decision. All I can do is hope he’ll choose the path that leads to less pain for me.

He sighs. “All right. But any signs of trouble, and we turn back instantly. Clear?”

I nod immediately. “Yes, Master.”

Where did that come from?