But her most distinctive feature was her eyes—a color I’d never seen.

  They were more than just blue, deep in color and brilliance, a color I could barely describe. She was blessed with a royal appearance, high cheekbones and fair cheeks, a collarbone sharp like the curve of a knife. I didn’t ask her many questions because the details of her past were irrelevant now. And to be honest, I just didn’t care.

  My mind was full of my own concerns. Concerns that plagued me day and night. Concerns that haunted me in my sleep and jolted me awake. The respect and admiration I received from my people was suffocating and undeserved.

  Caius was nearby with his back to her, like he was trying to keep an eye on her in my stead without making it obvious she was being watched.

  I approached him. “Prepare one of the cabins for her.”

  “So, she’s staying?” he asked, his disappointment clear.

  I glanced at her, where she tried to hide in the shadows. Her eyes found mine, like she knew I’d come for her. “You know what they’ll do to her.” I looked at Caius again. “She said she didn’t have a sword, like she’s used to having one. Perhaps she’ll be of use to us.”

  “Her only use will be to bear sons, but she’s not one of us.” He only spoke to me so candidly because we were alone together, out of earshot of the others. I wasn’t the type of leader that demanded unflinching loyalty and ironclad obedience. We were too vulnerable to have such an ego.

  “Prepare the cabin, Caius.”

  This time, there was no disagreement. He walked off to follow my orders.

  I approached her, releasing a heavy sigh when I drew near.

  Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she took a step back when I came too close, like she didn’t trust me even though I’d guaranteed her safety. But her eyes told a different story—that if I lunged at her, she would lunge right back. The contradiction between her stare and her body language was prominent.

  “Caius is preparing your cabin.”

  “Will I stay there alone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does the door lock⁠—”

  “No one will hurt you here.”

  “Really? Because I don’t feel welcome.”

  “It’s not personal.”

  “Does the door lock or not?”

  “Yes.”

  Her arms remained crossed over her chest. “May I have a sword?”

  “You don’t need one right now.”

  “I disagree.”

  “I said, no one will hurt you.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “As Chief of the Obsidians, I do.”

  Her hypnotic eyes flicked back and forth between mine once she understood exactly who she was dealing with. “I thought you might be in charge, but the leader usually sends others to do his bidding.”

  “We have too few people for that.”

  “What were you doing⁠—”

  “It’s been many days since I slept.” I didn’t feel like explaining a lifetime of war and conflict to a stranger. “Rations are served twice a day. Earn your keep here, and the others will accept you.”

  “That means I can stay?” The hardness in her eyes faded, and now she looked scared again, abandoned to a fate that was worse than death, in my opinion.

  There were no guarantees. I wouldn’t put the one before the many—even if I did pity her. “Only time will tell.”

  I bathed then had dinner alone in my cabin, the fire burning low to warm the home after it’d gone cold in my absence. Dead tired and ready for bed, I sat in the chair in front of the fire and reflected on everything that had happened.

  I needed food for my people, and I’d failed.

  It was hard to hunt game in the dark. Traps worked sometimes. There were fish in the lake, but they were so few and far between, it wasn’t a reliable meal. We couldn’t grow our food without the apricum, so we were slowly starving.

  And it was up to me to fix it.

  A knock sounded on the door, and then it cracked open.

  She helped herself inside without waiting for my invitation, her long, dark hair past her tits, her eyes hungry for my flesh. She came to me where I sat in the armchair and immediately straddled my hips and dropped her bottom onto my lap. “I missed you.” She cupped my cheek, and then she kissed me hard like she wanted me to take her to bed.

  Overwhelmed with responsibility that was about to crack my spine in two, I pushed her off. “I’m not in the mood, Allegra.” I rose from the chair and walked to the opposite side of the room, in the comfortable trousers I wore whenever I was home, which was almost never. “And I don’t think you are either.”

  She stood with her back to the fire, her eyes slowly cracking at the accusation. “You know what is expected of us, Morco.”

  To conceive the next generation, to repopulate as quickly as possible, to replace the people we’d lost, as if they were replaceable in the first place. “I don’t want to do it.”

  She stepped closer to me, moving slowly like I was an animal that might scurry off at her proximity. “You need an heir.”

  “Why would I have a child and burden them with responsibility that no person should have to bear? All we do is survive, and I don’t want to have a child, just to watch him have the same life that I’ve suffered. He deserves more.”

  “Morco, I understand⁠—”

  “You don’t understand at all, Allegra. You’ve only chosen me because I’m the chief, because of the royal blood in my veins, because I’m the strongest and the fittest here.”

  Her eyes shifted back and forth between mine. “Yes, that’s exactly why I’ve chosen you.”

  “I don’t want children. And if I did, it would be under different circumstances, and it would be with a woman I’ve committed my life to, a woman I love. None of those circumstances applies here, Allegra. Choose another partner.”

  “But the Elders, including your mother⁠—”

  “I don’t care.” I wouldn’t do it. Wouldn’t take on the additional responsibility of a child when I carried the responsibility of our entire tribe. “And I don’t love you, Allegra. If you want to fuck for pleasure, you know where to find me. But I will not fuck to conceive.”

  I saw a subtle flinch across her face, like something I said got under her skin. Her eyes even flicked away. “Morco, I don’t want to choose someone else. You’re the man I want to father my children.”

  “How many times do I have to say it?”

  “I want to give my son the best chance to survive⁠—”

  “Do you think we’re going to survive?” I asked incredulously. “Some of us will starve to death. Some of us will succumb to disease. And the children who are born of these horrible circumstances will be forced to fend for themselves. We continue to tread water like a ship is coming—but there is no ship.”

  Her eyes watered, and she started to step back. “You don’t mean that. You tell us to keep going.”

  “It’s all a bunch of bullshit. We’re all going to die in horrible fucking ways.”

  She continued to back up to the door. “The basilisks⁠—”

  “That will never happen, Allegra. The apricum will change, and if it’s in our direction, we’re fucked.” The light would transfer to another root bulb and illuminate our area, and if that was the case, the Knives would find us. “We’re fucked, no matter what.”

  3

  HANNE

  When I woke up, they were serving food—breakfast or dinner, I wasn’t sure.

  I thanked the cook who ladled the stew into my bowl constructed of leaves then sat at one of the tables by myself. I should just return to my cabin so I could be alone, but I wanted to make an effort to integrate with these people.

  But they stared at me like they didn’t even want me to try.

  I noticed that a lot of the women were pregnant, their stomachs distended through their clothing. Some of them were really far along in their pregnancy, and others seemed months behind.

  I kept my head down most of the time, because whenever I looked up, there was one man in particular who stared at me and didn’t stop. His presence was intimidating and vulgar, and he continued to stare me down like he didn’t care how uncomfortable it made me. I wanted to meet the stare with hostility, but then he might interpret that as an invitation.

  I chose to look down at my food, which had a couple pieces of fish and some vegetables, not much. This was all we had for the next eight hours. When I was the princess of Baccara, my breakfast alone was a feast, with eggs and breakfast sausage and scones and freshly baked bread, always more than I could ever eat.

  Now, I had a stew that was mostly water and no substance.

  The table shook when someone joined me—the man who had been staring.

  I gave a slight jump before I lifted my gaze.

  His stare continued, piercing my face like he was desperate to look at me up close. “Never seen eyes like that.”

  “Oh…yeah.” I was aware of the uniqueness of my eyes, but I was also used to no one commenting on them. Everyone I encountered knew it was a trait of my royal ancestry, proof of my bloodline.

  “We’d have beautiful kids.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He smiled, and despite the fact that he was decently handsome, it was grotesque. “You think you’re going to eat our food for free? Think you’re going to burn our firewood to stay warm without payment?”

  My eyes flicked past him, seeing everyone at the table watching us but not intervening. The only person I recognized there was Caius, but he didn’t make any move to come to my rescue.

  I was all on my own. “Are you threatening me?”

  “No.” He continued to smile. “But isn’t your intention to be one of us?”

  This was my reality now. I had no other choice but to make this place home. “I mean, yes, but⁠—”

  “Most of the women are pregnant. Did you notice that?”

  “Yes.”

  “We’re trying to repopulate, and we need women for that. And I really like your eyes.” His eyes roamed down to my chest, its shape mostly hidden under my clothes. “And everything else.”

  So, it was a threat. I had to be careful how I rebuffed him. If I didn’t handle it right, I could make everyone hate me even more than they already did. “I just got here.”

  “And you want to stay, right?”

  “Don’t threaten a woman if you want her to have your baby. Just some advice.”

  He smirked like this very serious topic was some kind of joke. “You’re quick.” He snapped his fingers. “I like that too.”

  “Listing off all the qualities you like is not helping.”

  “You want to do this the old-fashioned way?” he asked. “Take our time and get to know each other? Fine.”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  “Well, I’ve told the guys you’re mine, so there won’t be anyone else between your legs but me.” Now, the smile was gone, a maniacal seriousness left behind. “And I will fuck you however many times it takes to put a baby in that belly.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Between you and me, the more time it takes, the better.” He winked and rose to his feet to leave the table. “I’m Krull, by the way. Let me know when you’re ready.” He returned to his table and sat with his friends or the people he knew…like nothing had happened.

  I sat at that table for what felt like hours and waited for Morco.

  When the meal was over, almost everyone dispersed except a few stragglers. Some left the camp in the direction I’d originally taken to come here, and I assumed they’d gone fishing. Everyone else seemed to attend to other responsibilities.

  Except for me.

  Morco finally emerged, dressed in all black without his sword and cape across his back. He hadn’t come to eat, so I wasn’t sure if he’d eaten anything earlier or if he had his own food as the chief.

  He stopped when he spotted me at the table.

  Something about his presence gave me comfort. He hadn’t been very nice to me since we’d met, but he’d given me shelter and food and his oath of protection. It was more than I’d expected anyone to grant me. If I’d gone for the other tribe, perhaps I would have been fed to their wolves piece by piece.

  He seemed to debate with himself before he decided to come over. Even without the uniform I’d seen him in earlier, he still looked kingly, looked far more honorable than Vulgaris did with his sword and armor and the golden crown upon his brow.

  Morco took the seat across from me, his elbows hitting the surface as his hands came together at his jawline. “What are you doing?”

  “Waiting for you, actually. You didn’t come down for breakfast…or lunch.”

  His eyes were locked on mine the same way Krull’s had been a while ago, but not with malevolence.

  “Do you eat somewhere else?”

  “No.”

  “Then where did you⁠—”

  “I wasn’t hungry.” He dropped his hands, his eyes filling with annoyance.

  I looked him over, one of the most muscular men in the tribe. “How can that be true?”

  “My people are hungry, and now we have another mouth to feed.”

  Guilt rushed through me when I understood. “Oh.”

  He dismissed my reaction. “What do you want from me?”

  “I’m much smaller than you. I’d rather not eat.”

  “When we crossed paths, I was there to steal food and supplies from their camp. I failed, so I can skip a meal.”

  “But you didn’t fail. It was my fault⁠—”

  “What do you want from me?” He sat straight on the chair, his back unsupported, his eyes dark but packed with intelligence.

  Now I felt terrible for wanting to complain about Krull, when I knew Morco was hungry—because of me. “Um, I’ve heard your people are trying to repopulate.”

  His stare didn’t change.

  “Am I expected to participate in that…?”

  His eyes were locked in place, and he didn’t blink. The silence lingered for a couple seconds, then a couple more.

  That wasn’t the reaction I wanted. “Oh fuck.” A flush of terror moved through me when I realized what would be expected of me. I’d never had sex, and now I had to sleep with some guy I barely knew…and have his baby.

  “You’re expected to participate, but it’s always a choice.”

  “It is?”

  “Yes.”

  I closed my eyes and took a breath. “Good. Because I—I’ve never been with anyone, so…” I wasn’t sure why I’d told him that. Maybe another reason to spare me from a barbaric practice.

  He didn’t react to that information.

  “Why are you doing this? I mean, I understand the purpose, but…”

  “It was the decision made by the Elders. I don’t support the idea.” He lowered his hands to the table, nothing between us now. Even seated, he was much taller than me. For someone who had to subsist on stew, he was able to maintain the mass of his muscles. This was the closest I’d been to him, so I could see the other details of his face, like the fact that he had shaved his jaw clean. The bones in his face were sharp, the front of his throat prominent, his features so rugged and distinctly masculine. Boys my age weren’t so seasoned. I wasn’t sure if he was my age because he seemed older, but I didn’t know by how many years.

  “But if you’re in charge, then can’t you dismantle it?”

  “I could, but I believe in the wisdom of the Elders. They want their people to continue, and to them, that seems like the best way to accomplish that goal.”

  “But you just said your people are hungry.”

  “We are,” he said. “A problem I’m supposed to fix.”

  I gave a slow nod like I understood, but I did not understand. “There are no fish in the lake?”

  “Not enough to rely on.”

  “What about root vegetables?”

  “What are root vegetables?”

  “They’re vegetables that don’t need sunlight to grow. They just need moisture.”

  He continued to stare at me like he didn’t understand.

  In that moment, I realized our differences—that I lived above and he lived below. “Have—have you always been down here? Or are you from above?”

  “The Obsidians have been here for generations. We were exiled by a king long ago, but it’s been so many years that none remembers the tale. My mother and her mother and her mother before her have only known this darkness.”

  So he’d never seen the sun. Felt the wind. Seen the ocean. Never looked up at the blue sky or felt the rain soak his clothes in a storm. All he knew was this…and nothing else. If I were to describe any of those things to him, he would have no understanding. “How do you normally grow food?”

  “The apricum.”

  “What is that?”

  “Did you notice the bud of light after you fell?”

  “Yes, it looks like a rosebud.”

  He didn’t ask what a rose was, but he probably had no idea. “The root system here channels light from above. It’ll burn an apricum for a time, but then the energy will transfer to another bulb and light another part of the Depths. There’s no way to predict how long the light will last or where it will move. That light used to grow our crops.”

  “Why not anymore?”

  “Because of the Knives—the creatures that chased us.”

  The ones that climbed on top of wild wolves and came after us. I blinked several times as I processed what he’d shared, as I began to understand the circumstances of his people and the conflict below the surface.

  “Apricum is life. Without it, you can barely survive. It’s theirs now, and when the light moves, they’ll move with it. They’ve killed us off to near extinction, so we have no chance to oppose them. All we can do is stay in the dark and hope the apricum doesn’t come anywhere near us.”

  It was barbaric. More barbaric than what Krull had just asked me. “And it’s always been this way?”

  “They appeared in the Depths before I was alive, during my grandfather’s reign. It’s been havoc ever since. Our kingdom destroyed, our resources taken by our enemy. We haven’t been living, only surviving.”