Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Finally, I find a way—or rather, a Hallan—to get me out of my current situation.
“Katur!” I call out to my cousin cutting through the crowd.
“You found the woman for Bo, did you?” he asks me.
“I did.”
He nods as he breaks through the front line of those gathered to be close enough to greet me properly with a bow. I don’t miss the seriousness in his expression when he stands up straight again.
“Do you have a moment, then? I know this means you’ll be preparing to leave for Hallalah now that your duty here is done, so the present is the best time for this discussion.”
I have some idea of what he’d like to discuss if only because of the rumblings and rumors spreading through my army about leaving Earth—and possible mates—behind. My kind are not known to keep quiet when they are unhappy about something, but it is also the fact that their High Royals are willing to listen that discontent and being disgruntled doesn’t turn into something far more vicious amongst our people.
“Let’s have that discussion now,” I tell Katur.
“We’re not done having this discussion here,” Luna snaps next to me.
Right, that.
I might not be in the mood to discuss being mates with Luna, but there isn’t a better time or place to make one thing between us, and anyone else who needs to hear it, very clear. So clear, in fact, that there is no question.
I turn to Frances, and this time when I smile, it’s tight and not at all genuine. I know he can tell, and I want him to.
“Your daughter, as promised,” I tell him. This time, however, I nod and also add louder for him and anyone else close enough to hear that needs to understand, saying clearly in his language, “My mate.”
FOUR
“Isn’t this the former general’s home?” I ask my father in a whisper.
General Lockett, I mean. One of many men that my father has worked for years waiting for his time to overthrow.
“It is,” he tells me. “I’m more surprised that they’re apparently allowing me inside with you, to be honest.”
“What?”
His dark gaze, matching mine, shifts to me. “In the house, Luna. I’ve yet to be inside. Being fair, the Hallans have been cordial and well-mannered to our little group since inviting us here in every other way possible once they knew we were not going to fight against them, and instead, help them. I won’t deny that. And very possibly, they are something that could greatly help our cause against The New Order.”
“Why would they keep you out? Doesn’t really seem like they’re using it all that much for anything,” I point out, nodding at the clear divide in the lawn where the tents stop and there’s nothing leading up to the house all the way around it. Well, from what I can see. With at least a few thousand aliens in the encampment, at my estimation, I expect at least a few hundred or so to be milling around or about the house.
There’s no one.
Except for the Hallan guard waiting to greet us at the big front door, spear in hand. His looming figure and gray skin is a stark contrast to the blood-red door at his back. His black gaze tracks us, and the Hallan carrying Zarah a few feet behind us, the closer we come on the path to reaching the stone steps where he stands at his post.
“I think they use it like a headquarters,” my father says finally. “But only if needed. I get the impression they enjoy a simpler way of life. Integrating their needs and wants with the land around them. We humans could learn something from them there.”
Huh.
My first, and overall, impressions of these creatures that overtook Earth—even if our planet isn’t the greatest place to exist—lacks the fondness and sympathy my father uses when he talks about them. Not every death can be one of the guilty.
In war, innocents lose, too.
“You sound as if you like them,” I mutter.
Which isn’t something I can say, at the moment.
“The Hallans?”
“The aliens.”
My father smiles, then. Barely perceptible but I don’t miss it.
“I respect what they can do, Luna. You should, too.”
I let his word be the last one on the subject, for now, because the Hallan at the door takes my attention when his spear cuts sideways, blocking all entrance to us.
“We were told to come here,” I say.
A bemused chuckle echoes behind me, and the Hallan who has carried Zarah since finding us steps forward to join our line where he speaks in a language I cannot understand. I do hear a repeat of a word that’s been made clear to me, though.
Zawla.
And a name, too.
Halun.
“Bey?” the Hallan at the door asks, spear still steady.
“Waliz Halun, bey.”
“Apologies.”
Instantly, the spear is dropped back to his side and he moves aside, bowing as we pass and take the steps two at a time.