The Only One

foundation as we fight, it will crumble again. All will be lost."
    "We'd fight a war to end war," Jal murmured.
    "Yes. To win peace." Romjha's gaze smoldered with something close to obsession. "Peace for all time."
    The murmurs in the audience grew louder. Taj squeezed her eyes shut. Not only had Romjha shifted the emphasis from war to peace, he'd presented himself along with Cheya and Jal as one of the leaders of the coming revolution.
    Cheya held out his hand. Romjha left the table and crouched by the fallen prince. They clasped their arms at the wrist in the ancient traditional warrior's handshake, their faces aglow with dreams of victory. Jal got up and joined them. Then Aleq placed his hands over theirs. Aleq? He'd never aspired to anything grandiose before, let alone galactic peace.
    "It is what the prophecy says," Jal declared. "Eight warriors will join together, men who burn with the desire to fight. And those men will win."
    What prophecy? And what did he mean by eight warriors? Taj saw four men. Four fools. The rest must be off-planet. All of them eager to follow each other to their deaths.
    "Men," she huffed. Standing, she pushed her chair away from the table. "The more passion you take to war, the more body bags you make. And who will deal with the aftermath, eh?" Her chest squeezed tight. "The women," she whispered, meeting Romjha's eyes. "The very ones you claim to want to protect. The ones you should be focusing on instead of fighting."
    A muscle jumped in his jaw. She'd struck him where he was most vulnerable—reminding him of the loss of his wife and child, and that he hadn't been able to save them. The shame of letting fly that remark stung.
    But anger boiled inside her, making an apology impossible.
    Taj pressed her fists to her stomach, as if that could somehow keep her from letting go of the last shreds of her composure. Her people hadn't given her the job of munitions officer to see her fall apart over a man with a death wish—even if his ideas would likely bring death and destruction to her homeland; even if he was the man she'd admired for more years than she could remember. She was a soldier; she'd take life's blows like one.
    "Excuse me. I must go." Spine stiff, she offered all the people at the table a calm, respectful nod.
    Romjha stood, his stare pure fire, searing through the wall she'd erected in self-defense. Desperately, she tried to keep her private thoughts from him. She turned and fled.
    Only after she was out of the Big Room and sight did she double over, hugging her arms to her ribs as if she'd received a direct hit to the abdomen. "Blast you, Romjha B'kah!"
    She staggered to her bedroom, near the lab in the silent, rearmost area of the caverns. Her insides felt shredded, as if someone was thrashing open her heart. She fell near her altar to pray, as she'd done every morning and every evening for as long as she could remember. Her knees settled snugly into the well-worn hollows of a floor cushion. With a shaking hand, she lit candles under a half-dozen shallow bowls holding fragrant oils. The scents were said to please the Great Mother.
    To be on the safe side, Taj gathered extra bowls of oil and lit candles under each. She'd need the Great Mother to be in a receptive mood. Then, eyes closed, Taj bent her head and prayed.
    "May Romjha's death be painless and quick."

Chapter Eight
    Taj remained in silent meditation for some time. When she was through, she tapped a wand against a metal bell etched with ancient Siennan runes, sending her prayers to the Ever After, where her pleas would be considered by the Great Mother Herself.
    She'd done what she could. Now at least Romjha might be protected. At the thought of what the man intended, though, her ire began to grow. Gritting her teeth, she pushed past her heavy door and strode from her quarters.
    As Taj's anger took over, the thick ache in her throat and behind her eyes subsided. Her blood heated, her stomach burned, and she began to feel more like herself. Not good but more in control. Less vulnerable.
    "Ah. There you are."
    She jumped, startled, and spun around.
    Romjha's shoulders appeared to fill the entire tunnel as he walked toward her. "I feared you'd disappear to .
    . . wherever it is you go," he said.
    The spring. No, she wouldn't be going there tonight. The spring was her sanctuary, a place for when she wanted to escape the world—not for when she wanted to fight with it.
    He halted, looming over her. How did he do