Clarke returned to her chambers quickly after the ceremony. She didn't care in that moment how her hurried exit might be perceived. That room, being in the presence of the people who had betrayed Lexa and been so eager to kill her, made Clarke's skin crawl. She'd been followed by the group of guards from before, who resumed their station outside of the door to her room. Ontari would be keeping a very close eye on her, and Clarke knew her life continued only at Ontari's whim.
She exchanged her ceremonial Grounder style dress for more comfortable pants and a shirt, scrubbing the paint from her face at the small basin of water on the room. The handmaidens had thankfully cleaned the black bloodstains from the soles of her boots, so she put them back on. With a furtive glance around the room, she took the dagger from its hiding place behind the loose wall panel and hid it within the side of her boot. It would likely not save her, surrounded by enemies so completely, but at least she would not be completely defenseless.
She stood up, looked at herself in the mirror, and fought the feeling of helplessness that closed in on her. She felt like she was back in her cell on the Ark: at the mercy of others, waiting for the inevitable. Trapped.
With a disgusted noise she shook her head. There was no time for her to sit still, wallowing in grief and doubt. Her duty now was to save her people, just as she had promised Lexa. To do that she needed information. Surely this rebellion had its weak points that Clarke could leverage. Azgeda was strong and had allies, but surely some of the clans would not be wholly on board with Ontari's bloody purge.
She threw her leather jacket on as if it were familiar armor before she left her chambers and went back out into the hallway. The guards immediately stepped in front of her, blocking her path. "You are not to leave without permission," one of the hulking men growled from behind the mask that covered the lower half of his face.
Clarke narrowed her eyes, glaring at him. "I haven't had anything to eat in two days."
"That is not my problem." The guard's tone was cruel, as if he enjoyed making the insult, and Clarke knew that he was sneering underneath the mask.
"Really gonas, insults are not necessary. She may be Skaikru, but she is still a Bandrona."
Both Clarke and the guards turned to face the source of the interruption. The Delphi ambassador stood there in the hallway, her expression cool. The men were nearly twice her height. Yet under the auburn-haired woman's gaze they seemed to falter. The cruel guard traded a glance between the two women.
"We will have something sent up."
"Nonsense. I will escort her to the Bandrona's study and back. I was just on my way there myself." She smiled pleasantly, but the smile never reached her eyes.
"Heda has ordered-"
"I know what Heda has ordered," the Delphi ambassador said sharply. "We will not leave this tower. I am an ambassador pledged to serve Heda, gona. I've just supported her Ascension. It's not likely I will defy her over some breakfast."
The guard looked appropriately chastened, and with a nod, he and his companion stepped out of Clarke's path. Mustering her most regal posture, Clarke moved to stand next to the other woman. "Moba, Bandronas. Though the Skaikru must be returned before long."
"Of course," the Delphi woman said, as Clarke bit back the desire to scowl at being referred to like a lost dog. With a quick glance to Clarke, she folded her hands into the long sleeves of her robe and continued down the hallway with Clarke following alongside her.
They walked in silence for a few moments until they reached the end of the hallway, entering a stairwell that led to the lower levels. The Delphi ambassador's voice was low, meant only for Clarke's ears, but it retained its pleasant lilt. To any observers, it looked and sounded like idle pleasant chatter between ambassadors.
"We have not had occasion to speak often, Wanheda. I am Mina kom Delfikru. I apologize for the behavior of your guards."
Clarke was incredibly wary. She had not expected any slightest kindness, much less an apology. And from a woman who had just declared her support for the coup. "Well met, Mina," Clarke replied formally. "Though this is not the first time guards and I have not seen eye to eye." She did her best to keep her tone neutral, not knowing where she stood with this woman.
"Though I am certain that this is the first time such a disagreement may get you executed," Mina replied with a pointed look that made a question start to unfurl in Clarke's mind.
Clarke laughed in bitter irony. "Just like on the Ark. The more things change, the more they stay the same."
"I agree, much has changed since you fell to Earth, Wanheda." Mina's eyes quickly checked the stairwell around them. "Not all of it for the best." Her eyes met Clarke's, and the telling look spoke what was too dangerous to say out loud.
"You mean the corruption of your laws by my clan, right?" Clarke threw the statement out, a subtle test.
Mina quickly glanced around them and, after seeing or hearing no one, pulled Clarke aside by the elbow into a darkened recess of one of the doorways leading to the closest stairwell exit. "No, Wanheda. I will say it plainly, and at great risk. This coup is a disaster." Her whisper was strained.
An echo of a memory resonated within Clarke. "You started a war you don't know how to end. And you need my help."
Mina nodded quickly. "There are others-" She broke off quickly as the sound of a door opening and footsteps echoed a few floors above them. She stepped out from the alcove and continued in the direction of their original destination. When she spoke, her tone was back to the airy, light inflection she had used before. "As I was saying, I hold a salon weekly. We shouldn't let the recent unpleasantness stop that from happening. You should attend; we gather at the Delfikru tea shop in the Northeast Quarter at dusk. I'll see that Heda places Delfikru guards on the evening watch outside your door. They will show you the way. Now…breakfast?" Mina smiled invitingly. But the smile was forced, and her expression remained grave.
Clarke followed alongside her, as the fear of betrayal warred with the fierce hope that maybe, just maybe, this could work.
"We're not far now, Oktavia," Davan called out, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder to the rest of the group sitting behind him.
Octavia stood up stiffly. After sitting in the bottom of the boat for an entire day as they motored down the bay, her injuries ached. However, when she looked at Lexa her own pain seemed to pale in comparison. The Commander had not stirred during the entire journey. She had become increasingly pale, her breathing far too slow and shallow. Indra sat next to her stricken leader, features knotted with worry as she yet again rested her fingertips against the younger woman's wrist to feel for her pulse.
"She cannot fight much longer. We need a healer," Indra said. "Tell him to hurry."
With a terse nod, Octavia made her way to the front of the boat where Davan guided the craft. "If we don't reach a village soon she's not going to make it; there's not much time left."
He nodded and pushed forward on the throttle, making the boat lurch forward as the engines coughed and growled. "We will be spotted soon. Keep an eye out, Skaikru…"
A minute later they rounded a bend of the shoreline. A tall watchtower rose above the tops of the low trees along the bank, and beyond that Octavia could see several rough docks reaching out into the water. A small village of sun-bleached homes lay just beyond that, a slight haze of smoke from early evening cook fires hanging over them. Beyond the village, at the point where land, sky, and sea met, Octavia could make out the dark silhouette of a lighthouse standing against the darkening sky. The white tower was topped with a red light, and was still standing despite several holes gouged in the column of the structure.
"Heya, Davan!" the sentry stationed at the top of the watchtower called out as they drew near, waving to its captain.
"Yu don hon fisa in snap! Kom Luna! Ai lid in ledon!" Davan yelled back, gesturing for the lookout to hurry.
The lookout reached to his belt and put a small horn to his lips, blowing a sharp warning sound towards the village. Another horn answered and as they drew nearer to the village Octavia could make out figures rushing to meet them on one of the docks.
Davan brought the boat alongside the dock as quickly as possible. Floukru men threw out lines as they approached, and Murphy and Octavia caught them, pulling them against the wooden pier and quickly tying them to the davits on the boat.
"Indra kom Trikru!" A slender woman with dark eyes and wildly curly chestnut hair ran down the dock, recognizing the general. She was trailed by two individuals carrying bags laden with supplies and a makeshift litter; from the look of them Octavia could recognize that they were likely healers. The crowd on the dock parted for the three of them with deference, though the woman did not look much older than Octavia herself.
The Trikru general lifted the boneless body of her Commander from her place on the boat. As the wild-haired woman drew near with the healers, reaching to accept the burden, she obviously looked startled, recognizing the wounded woman. The look of shock passed quickly as the Floukru woman shoved her surprise away, schooling her features.
"She has been poisoned with reshwan, stabbed, and lost a lot of blood," Indra reported, making eye contact with the healers, who nodded their understanding. The Floukru woman lifted Lexa from Indra's arms, passing her to the two healers, who rushed off down the docks into the village.
Exhaustion seemed to hit the fugitives at once. The wild-haired woman helped Octavia scramble from the boat onto the dock, and both women had to help Indra, who winced from both exhaustion and her wounds. Murphy followed, furtively looking around the dock at the handful of people helping Davan load and unload fuel and supplies.
"I must follow her..." Indra said, turning to charge off in the direction the healers had headed.
The wild-haired woman grabbed the general's arm at the elbow, gently slowing her, but not stopping her as they walked quickly to keep pace. "Hod op, Indra. Is it true, what has happened in Polis? You arrive with Lexa, and my spies say my ambassador has been killed; that-" she stopped abruptly, looking suspiciously at Murphy and Octavia. "Who are these people?"
"Murfi kom Skaikru and Fleimkepa Oktavia kom Skaikru kom Trikru. They are allies," she introduced tersely. "Meet Luna, Heda kom Floukru."
Murphy cocked his head to the side and Octavia ducked her chin in acknowledgement, but Luna's eyes widened in further shock before narrowing at Octavia.
"Fleimkepa?"
Indra's pace sped up as she made a beeline down the narrow alleyway away from the docks. "We have much to discuss, Luna. But, we must make sure Heda Leksa survives. Or who will take the Flame will be the least of your worries."
"Sha…" Luna agreed, and led them deeper into the village.
Clarke had been halfheartedly reading a book, barely focused on the yellowed page, when the knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. She glanced up at the open windows, noting the way the late sunset streaked the sky with red before she set the book aside on the couch, grabbing her sketchbook from the table in front of her and stuffing it into a small satchel before slinging that across her shoulders. With a last look around the room, she made her way to the doorway.
A high ranking warrior, a square-jawed young man with a shock of bright blonde hair and dark blue eyes, bowed slightly as she opened the door. He wore a deep green hooded cloak, fastened to his decorated armor with a clasp forming the circle bounding the four arrows of the Delphi clan. The two guards on either side of Clarke's door were dressed identically, gripping sharp-looking spears. "Good evening, Wanheda. I am Keten kom Delfikru, commander of Bandrona Mina's personal guard. She has ordered me to show you to tonight's salon. If you would please put this on and follow me." He held out a deep green cloak, in the same style that he wore, to Clarke.
Clarke fastened the cloak over her shoulders and threw the hood over her head. She followed at Keten's side, a half-step behind the captain. The two other guards followed several paces behind, at a respectful yet watchful distance. They took the main elevator to the ground floor, and Clarke felt the tension within her rise, shifting her feet. Ontari had eyes everywhere; there was no way that Clarke would not be followed and her movements reported back. Keten seemed unconcerned and strode confidently past the squad of Boudalan guards standing watch at the main entrance with only a stiff-necked nod of acknowledgement towards their captain.
She said nothing, her eyes scanning the streets and buildings as they passed. Keten led the party away from the tower and into the side streets, choosing a wandering path away from the city center. After several blocks, he took a corner abruptly, bringing them down a series of winding narrow alleys lined with shuttered storefronts, with homes above. The sun had disappeared beneath the horizon, and the sky was darkening, casting the streets into shadow. Clarke could hear individual voices nearby as people wandered the streets, finding their individual ways between the markets, taverns, and homes as the city prepared to sleep. One of the side alleys they entered was covered by a ramshackle overhang made of rough boards which partially obscured the passage from view. As they drew near, Clarke could see four more figures waiting in the shadows, dressed identically to the group she walked with. Two carried spears, the third wore the breastplate of a Delfikru general, and the fourth-a blonde woman about her height and build-seemed unarmed. Moving seamlessly, the two groups merged in the shadows, and the two pairs of armed guards exchanged places with practiced fluidity. Clarke and Keten continued on with the new guards, while the identical decoy group took a different side alley.
The Delphi captain missed nothing, and his lips twitched upwards slightly in amusement as Clarke let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding since they had left the Commander's tower. "You are safe with us, Wanheda. I am not naïve enough to expect you to trust me simply because I ask you to. There are many prying eyes in the night, but this is not the first time my gonas and I have kept them blind when it was necessary. Delfikru politics can be a very deadly game at times."
Clarke glanced over at him curiously. "Is that how you see this? A game?"
"It is," Clarke could hear the frown in his voice, "though in my homeland, we prefer not to shed blood for political aims. Violence is so…crude. But, it is at its core, a game. One side makes a move, hoping that the other does not see the traps laid ahead. It's just like-"
"Chess," Clarke finished.
"You know the game?"
"Very well actually." She smiled, reflecting on fond memories from easier times. "I'm surprised you do."
The general spared a glance at her over his shoulder, then returned to scanning the way ahead. "My people value knowledge, learning, and strategy. We have kept some knowledge from Before. Chess, Gonasleng…other things. Perhaps we can play a game or two, when this unpleasantness is over?"
"Perhaps…" Clarke said, the pleasant feeling brought on by her memories interrupted by the reminder of the current danger.
They traveled in silence for the last several minutes of the journey. The narrow alleys and crowded buildings of the city center gave way to more slightly more spacious streets and neighborhoods interspersed with trees and overgrowth. They stopped outside of a pleasant-looking tavern, decorated with wooden support pillars covered in intricately carved vines and leaves. A hand-painted wooden sign featuring a mug and the Delphi clan symbol hung from a corner eave.
"Go," Keten ordered. "Inside, ask for a cup of 'Eyresh black tea'. They will know where to take you from there. We will stand watch."
Clarke nodded her understanding and her thanks and headed inside.
It took her a moment to get her bearings inside the building. The main room of tavern was full of light and warmth, oil lamps and candles filling the wood-paneled building with a pleasant glow. Patrons sat at tables and benches scattered throughout, chattering amongst themselves over clay cups of tea. In one corner, a young man laid lines of colorful paint onto a canvas propped up against the wall, chewing on the stem of a pipe which emanated a deep purple smoke. In the other corner, near a fireplace full of racks of roasting meat, a young woman played a small drum, making a dull throbbing background melody. Paintings and twisted bits of polished brass sculpture lined the walls, adding a touch of almost opulence to the environment.
All those details flooded Clarke's senses, and she almost missed the approach of the tavern hostess before the other woman cleared her throat.
"Sis yu au?"
"Sha," Clarke replied, "Yu gada Eyresh Shadte in?"
"Mafta ai op," the hostess replied, gesturing for Clarke to follow her as she turned and walked toward a hallway leading away from the main room. The haze from more purple smoke clung thickly to the ceiling in the hallway, coming from side rooms where Clarke could see people working at brightly colored canvases, or trying out new melodies on instruments. She shook her head to clear her mind as they reached the end of the hallway, walking down a short staircase leading to a solid oak door. The air down here was cooler as they went underground, and the hostess knocked on the door in an intricate pattern. The door cracked open, and the woman gestured for Clarke to enter, before she turned discreetly and headed back up the stairs to her patrons.
Clarke stepped through the door, quietly closing it behind her. A table had been set up in the center of the basement cellar, and the lamplight glittered off the bottles lining the walls. She immediately recognized the figures seated at the table, who looked up as she stepped inside. Mina stood to greet her from the head of the table, while Roan, seated to her right, nodded in greeting. The Boudalan and Ingranrona ambassadors both sat at the table, looking at Clarke with subtle trepidation as she sat down.
"Welcome, Wanheda. We are all glad you came," Mina began.
"I am not entirely sure why I'm here," Clarke said.
The Boudalan ambassador spoke next. "Ontari has gone too far. She threatens our clans. With Trikru under her control she brings death to our borders."
The Ingranrona ambassador nodded in agreement, looking grave. "Ortwin speaks true. Ingranrona lies far from Trikru lands, but Ontari has powerful allies to the west."
"Thank you, Emilis," Mina said softly, still looking at Clarke.
Clarke narrowed her eyes at the ambassadors. "Mina, you said earlier your clan supported the overthrow. I watched each one of you cut Lexa to carry out her execution. Why should I believe a single word any of you say?!"
The Delphi woman's expression moved from strained regret, to genuine contrition, the last bit of her schooled mask falling away. "Our clans supported a collective petition to Heda Leksa to remember the needs of the smaller clans, and ensure that all would be equally protected under any change to the law when Skaikru was made the Thirteenth Clan. Ontari and the majority of Azgeda have twisted that into a mandate for absolute power, and have broken all laws to spill the blood of anyone who resists them. We did not ask for a coup. Already they say she has gone mad with power, sending out riders to collect pledges of fealty from the surrounding villages and putting those who refuse to the sword." She shuddered. "It will only be a matter of time before she brings that madness against my clan."
"Why are you telling me this now? Ontari has been in power for barely one day."
"Events are changing quicker than we could have anticipated. Once she has consolidated power, no one will be able to stop her."
Clarke turned to Roan, who had been silently watching the exchange, toying with the tea in his cup. "And what are you doing here? You're king of Azgeda. You should have the power to stop this." Her words had a bitter edge.
His gaze matched hers. He looked defiant, though sad. "Nia raised Ontari to be her pet Natblida, though obviously she had her own plans. She has the Azgeda generals on her side, and so controls the army. I am an exile and a pariah to them, my title granted by their enemy after the murder of their queen. Besides," his demeanor became troubled, "she no longer listens to my advice after her Ascension. It is as if she listens to another. I am a king in name only…for now."
"For now?"
He set the cup down. "Heda Leksa was not the only one who wished for peace, Wanheda. Life is harsh in the North. Enough of my people die without fueling Azgeda's endless wars. So, I cast my lot with you, and add 'Traitor' to my long list of titles." He smiled ruefully, spreading his hands.
Clarke turned to look each of them in the eyes. "So, a resistance? Will you stand together? With me?"
Roan was the first to stand, holding his cup aloft in a mirthless toast. "To rebellion at your side, Wanheda."
The other ambassadors followed his lead, knowing that, in their agreement, they bound each other to a traitor's fate, risking everything alongside the lives of their people.
"It is agreed then," Clarke declared, taking her seat. "We need to start now."
They plotted well into the evening, and sent several runners sneaking out the rear door of the tavern like crows in the night, spreading plans and secrets to those who would rise up when the time came and Wanheda called.
There was a light, patterned tapping at the door many hours later, and Roan answered. Keten stood on the other side, looking around the room.
"Dawn approaches, Bandronas. Even the leaf addicts are wandering home. We should return."
Clarke surveyed the other ambassadors. "You all know what to do?"
Those assembled indicated their agreement, and Mina came around to join Clarke. "You and I can be seen together, Wanheda. It shouldn't be suspicious if we are seen leaving my salon. The rest of you, be sure to scatter back into the city. I will leave the other guards to see you out safely."
Together Clarke, Mina, and Keten returned to the street outside. The ink-black of the night sky was just barely starting to take on the dark blue hint of dawn to the east. The guards formed a bubble around them as they walked, quickly weaving through the empty streets back to the city center and the tower.
Keten's footsteps slowed as the streets widened. The square in front of the tower lay several hundred yards in front of them, gaping like a chasm. One hand moved under his cloak, resting atop the pommel of his sword as the other swept back behind him, halting Mina and Clarke.
"The streets are too empty, Mina. There should be merchants about on their way to the markets. I do not like this." He crept forward slightly, shifting his body in front of the group.
"I agree. We need to-"
Her words were cut off an arrow whistled down from above, burying itself with a wet, hollow sound into the slight Delphi woman's shoulder. Her hands flew up reflexively to close around the shaft, delicate features frozen in surprise.
"Jomp em op Azgeda!" Shouts erupted from the square, and the light of a dozen torches carried by warriors poured out from the base of the tower into the square.
The Delphi commander moved quickly, hauling his leader back into a side alley. "Help me!" he shouted at Clarke, who grabbed one of the Delphi ambassador's arms, slinging it over her shoulder as the smaller woman's steps faltered. Together, they raced headlong back into the warren of back alleys, the shouts of their pursuers echoing behind them.
With a crash, Keten threw his weight into the flimsy back door of a shop, hauling both women in behind him. He quickly shut the door behind them, crouching out of sight with his sword drawn as Clarke dragged Mina into a darkened corner of the shop away from the entrance.
No one breathed as a pack of Azgeda warriors stomped by, torches casting twisted shadows against the wall of the shop. They hurried by in their haste and fortunately did not investigate the shop any further, thinking their quarry had continued their flight down the street. Still, the escapees waited a solid minute before Mina broke the silence.
"Ontari knows," she whispered faintly.
"I took every precaution," Keten said, looking anguished as he rushed back to kneel at her side.
"I know, but she is far more dangerous than we realized." Her eyes were full of pain, yet a spark of defiance still blazed within them as she turned her head to look at Clarke. "You must flee the city. If Ontari kills you, this rebellion dies with you."
Clarke opened her mouth to protest, but quickly shut it, realizing that Mina was right. "I can head for Arkadia."
Keten bit his lip, his eyes moving from Clarke to Mina and back again. "Wanheda, scouts report that not all may be well in Arkadia."
Pushing back on the questions that popped up in her mind, Clarke focused on the immediate danger. "It's safer than here. I can talk to Kane and my mother, warn them to prepare."
Keten looked as if he were about to say something, but Mina interrupted him before he could speak. "Go with her, houmon. See her safely to her kru."
A look of anguish crossed the soldier's face before he hid it behind a steely mask. "I cannot leave you here to die."
"Do not let love blind you to your oath now. Do as I ask, Keten."
Despite the danger, something within Clarke's heart broke anew, scratching at the deep wounds left by Lexa's grave injury and exodus. There was the wise decision, and then the compassionate one.
"No," Clarke said, rising up slightly from the floor. "I order you, as the leader of this rebellion, to get Mina out of the city. I need every ally I have for this fight. I can make it on my own."
"Wanheda-" Mina protested weakly.
"No! Go, and go now!" Clarke hissed, stalking for the door. She heard Keten shift behind her, lifting Mina into his arms.
Clarke didn't look back as she slipped out into the streets. She kept to the shadows and warrens of the city, hiding amongst overgrowth and rubble whenever a group of Azgeda warriors got too close. Fortunately for her they were noisy and easy to avoid, blinded by their bloodlust, and the fading darkness hid her until she reached the outer wall of the city. The lone guard at his post near one of the many smaller gates leading into Polis fell easily to her dagger, and then she was off, racing the dawn and her enemies south through the forest to Arkadia.
The faint light of dawn had begun to fill the small room in the Floukru healers' hut when a small noise roused Octavia from sleep. She opened her eyes slowly, but a moment later as she took in her surroundings the memories from the previous hours crashed down on her.
Black blood staining the healers' hands as they sewed deep wounds shut…the terrible smell of antidote brewing…the hushed whispers as Luna had reminded them of their oaths to protect the identity of their patient on pain of death…
She sat up, instantly awake, as another small noise caught her attention.
From the bed across the room, Lexa's green eyes sought hers. The Commander was awake, but clearly confused and in pain, wildly searching the room around her. She moved her arms as if to push herself upright, but quickly groaned in agony and lay still.
"Who are you? Where am I?" Lexa asked. Her tone held only a thin veneer of command, but Octavia could hear how it cracked at the edges in a way she found unsettling.
"It's Oktavia kom Skaikru, Heda. You're in Floukru territory…Luna's village."
"Luna? I don't understand…" Lexa gulped, and her eyes went wide. "I cannot feel the Flame. Where is it?! What have you done?!" Her voice cracked in anguish, fear scrabbling in her throat.
Octavia stood in alarm. She had never before seen Lexa shaken in the slightest, but the woman on the bed before her now seemed lost, slipping backwards into near-panic. She turned to Indra, who had been sleeping in the chair next to her, and firmly shook the general's shoulder, rousing her to wakefulness.
"Heda!" Indra exclaimed, quickly moving to crouch alongside the bed, her hand closing on Lexa's upper arm in an effort to keep her still.
Lexa's eyes seemed to focus at the sight of her trusted subordinate. "Indra…"
"Sha, Heda?"
"How did you get here? Where is my niron? Have her explain what happened."
Indra's brows knit in concern. "Do you mean Clarke, Heda? I do not understand."
Lexa's voice was strained. "Who is Clarke?" The name tumbled from Lexa's lips as if it were a foreign thing. "Costia. She was just here, after the Conclave."
Octavia felt as if a rock had dropped from a great height into her stomach, and she traded a quick worried glance with Indra.
Indra's shoulders raised and she steeled her spine for what she had to say, but her voice was choked with fearful tension. "Costia died several years past, Heda. Em gonplei ste odon."
"No! Liar!" Lexa's hands flew up, weakly punching at Indra, struggling against the general's grip so frantically that black blood dotted the sheets as stitches tore. "Where is she? Where is Costia!? Where is the Flame?! What have you done to me?!" Her shouts unraveled into raw screaming, and Octavia could only look on in horror as the Commander of the Thirteen Clans fell apart completely, replaced with a lost and lonely wounded girl.
"Seken! Lid em fisa en!" Indra shouted to Octavia, grabbing hold of Lexa's fists as the other woman collapsed into jagged sobbing.
Octavia turned on her heel and ran, her own tears of despair pricking hotly at the corners of her eyes as she turned her back on the fallen Commander, searching for help in the Floukru village. For a moment, she wished that she could disappear from this place-this life of horror and blood and death-and return to that vast, quiet emptiness of space, back before everything had fallen to ruin.
Next Week, in Chapter Seven:
"For a moment, Lexa did not feel like she was in the same room, lost in another emerging memory. She felt as if her face was covered with still-hot blood spatter, her hand trembling on the pommel of her sword as she held back tears, staring into wide blue eyes as her mouth choked on words of betrayal. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, opening them to find herself back in the small Floukru house. Her fingers closed around the pencil in her hand, willing it to stop shaking as yet another missing piece clicked into place within the tangled web of her mind.
"Oktavia, who is Clarke kom Skaikru?" Her mouth was dry as she posed the question..."
Trigedasleng:
"Hod op…": "Wait..."
Bandrona: Ambassador
Boudalan: Rock Line Clan. Composed mostly of portions of the former southern U.S. states: West Virginia, Kentucky, and Tennessee.
Gona: warrior, guard
Moba: Apologies
Delfikru: Delphi Clan. Composed mostly of portions of the former midwestern U.S. states: Wisconsin, Illinois, and northern Indiana.
"Yu don hon fisa in snap! Kom Luna! Ai lid in ledon!": "Bring a healer, quickly! And Luna! I bring wounded!"
"Sis yu au?": May I help you?
"Sha…Yu gada Eyresh Shadte in?": "Yes…do you have Eyresh Black Tea?"
"Mafta ai op": follow me
Ingranrona: Plains Riders Clan. Composed mostly of portions of the former midwestern U.S. states: southern Minnesota, Iowa, Missouri, and northern Arkansas
"Jomp em op Azgeda!": "Attack, Azgeda!"
Houmon: wife, husband, spouse
Niron: lover
"Seken! Lid em fisa en!": "Second! Get the healers!"
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Art by Foomatic