When it came to answering her question, she had no clue. The impulse would be to state emphatically that she was Falise Taglioni. Daughter of Claudio and Malissa. That her competence and dedication were the budding strength in her line after the shame brought on their side of the family by Derek. That she was the one chosen to ensure the family’s access and influence when it came to Donovan’s wealth.

That Falise Taglioni, however, had met with nothing but disaster from the moment she’d stepped down from Turalon’s shuttle.

She glanced at the blonde head leaned against her shoulder. She’d never slept with a woman who wasn’t a lover. This, too, was something new. And with it, the notion that this genetic freak of a girl—and the quetzal—were her only hope for survival.

Not victory.

Not success.

Survival.

Falise had been on the point of tears last night, figured she’d be dead of thirst by morning, when Kylee said, “Falise, you stay here with Flute. Don’t set foot off the bedrock. Keep to bare stone. I’m off to get us something to drink.”

And Kylee had. She’d returned sometime later bearing a young aquajade sapling. Had shown Falise how to use her knife to open one of the three veins in the trunk, and how to prop it so that water drained into her mouth.

“It’s not a forever solution,” Kylee had said. “The heavy metals will kill you in the end. In, oh, say, a couple of weeks. And heavy-metal toxicity is nothing nice when it comes to ways to die.”

To her dismay, Falise’s stomach let loose with a loud gurgle. Yeah, it was that empty.

It brought Kylee awake. The girl blinked, shifted, and raised her head, sniffing the morning air, laden with vanilla and cardamom scents from the forest. The chime was beginning to change.

Kylee sat up, rubbed her eyes. Then she slapped Flute on the belly, saying, “Better than a night spent at what’s it? Three Spires?”

“That’s a restaurant.” Falise—crying out loud at the pain her in muscles—climbed to her feet. “Maybe you mean the Solar Elan? It might be the fanciest hotel in Transluna.”

“Yep.” Kylee leaped spryly to her feet.

The way she did made Falise want to slap her. God, every pus-sucking joint in her body hurt. The feeling in her legs, arms, shoulders, and back was like every muscle had been pulled loose from its attachment and torn in two.

Flute rose, stretched, his head extended, muscular legs rippling as he raised his tail. Then he made a warbling sound that might have been the horn section from a small band through his tail vents. A plethora of colors streaming down his hide from just behind his wide frilly ruff.

“Yeah,” Kylee told him. “Can you go find something to eat? I’ll start a fire.”