The Only One

shook his head. "Not all. A few survived—the queen, the youngest prince and an unborn princess, several other relatives, cousins and the like. In secret they continued their bloodlines, and for generations my world has protected them, hoping to put them back on the throne."
    As gray as Cheya's skin appeared, Taj didn't have high hopes of this Vedla surviving his injury, let alone regaining power. What a waste. But then, any life lost was a waste. "It doesn't appear as if you hold the prince's life in high regard if you bring him with you on raids."
    "Cheya's a soldier first, a king's progeny second."
    The raiders murmured approvingly amongst themselves.
    Conversely, Romjha's expression was a study in disapproval. His distrust of these monarchists was palpable. Good. Taj didn't want him making friends with them.
    Romjha hefted his rifle. "Leave the rest of the work for the healers, Taj. It's nearly dawn."
    A faint, pastel pink-orange glow foretold the first of Sienna's two suns' rising. Taj's heartbeat jumped in her throat, and cold sweat prickled the back of her neck. "At dawn we'll be easy targets," she told Jal, finishing quickly her ministrations. "Roving in the open during daylight is suicide. My people have the casualty count to prove it."
    Jal's jaw flexed. His visor was silver, completely opaque. Only a hard, square jaw and the chilly cast to his mouth were visible. Perhaps he hadn't liked the way the way she'd emphasized "my people," as in not his.
    Too bad. He was the stranger, the one who came here uninvited, bringing danger and recklessness to Sienna.
    "Taj, Petro, Aleq—you're in my rover!" Romjha shouted. "Jal and Cheya, too. Everyone else take the rover that got you here."
    Orders were bellowed back and forth. The group split into two. Jal bore the weight of his comrade on his shoulders. Aleq and Petro ran alongside to assist if necessary.
    Thunder exploded from behind the boulder hills. "Incoming!" Petro shouted. The raiders darted closer to the protective shadows of the rocks.
    A low-flying craft shrieked overhead. Its underbelly was sleek and black, decorated with blinking lights.
    Death clothed in finery. A warlord's scout.
    "You never see the missiles at night," Aleq informed Taj. "But the tracers make for a pretty show."
    Great. There were some things she'd rather not know.
    A second fighter roared overhead, whooshing past so close that it kicked up a sandstorm. A sharp odor clogged Taj's nose and made her eyes water. She ran through clouds of dust, using her good ear to orient herself to the sound of her comrades' thumping boots.
    Suddenly, more craft, silver and longer-nosed appeared in the sky. Were these ships loyal to the outsiders?
    She knew too little about the men to hope that they were ... or that they were not.
    Light erupted, spreading a false dawn. Then a one-two boom seemed to rip apart the heavens, and the deadly scouts exploded, one after the other.
    Taj's eardrums shrieked with pain. The ground shook. Silver craft, the newcomers, spun away into a vertical victory roll. Into the stars they disappeared as debris rained down from overhead. For an instant, she was alone, lost in a maelstrom of dirt and noise and terror with no one to rely on but herself. Then Romjha materialized at her side, clearly oblivious to his own danger as he sought to account for every member of his group. "Go, go, go!" he shouted. Raiders streaked past, black wraiths in swirling brown dust.
    Romjha propelled her in front of him where he could keep her in sight, though it slowed his pace.
    He'd die saving her; she knew it as surely as she breathed. Have that on her conscience? She would not!
    "Go, Romjha! Get the rover started. I'll get there."
    He remained staunchly at her side, pushing her onward. Rage erupted, raw, white-hot, and welcome. "Blast you, B'kah," she gasped, seething. "Don't be so eager to sacrifice yourself, or the Great Mother might just take you up on the offer!"
    Big hands curved around her waist as the rover appeared before them. Romjha tossed her into the back as if she weighed nothing, as if her protests meant nothing. He jumped in after her, dragging her with him to the front passenger seat like a bag of last year's seeds.
    Sweat dribbled down Taj's temples. She swiped it from her eyes and yanked the safety harness over her shoulders. "Stop it," she warned him. "Stop protecting me."
    "Strap in tight," Romjha said, shoving the accelerator full forward while she was still strapping