“We do not choose side,” Aella announces.

“I’m not here to ask that of you. I’m here to ask you to help Ryan and Mel.”

“I know Ryan long time. We do not choose side. We neutral.”

“First of all, war isn’t guaranteed. It isn’t something we need to dwell on anytime soon.”

“You are human.” I don’t fully understand the sadness in her eyes. “Know not soon.”

I’m not arguing semantics with her. We’re barely having an intelligible conversation as it is. “Second of all, if Ryan’s the reason you’re allowed to live here as you do, aren’t you obligated to help him if you can?”

“Do not risk unit. We neutral.”

I set out on this task to rectify my mistake in tearing Ryan and Mel apart. I can’t see how that affects two potentially warring sides. Nor can I fathom how helping us dictates allegiances should a war begin. No one is asking anyone to choose sides. Will helping us make it look like they’ve chosen our side? Does she legitimately think we’ll be anything but neutral if and when the time comes? I have loved ones on both sides, Sumair and Solathair. I won’t choose between either. I can’t. Aella is the Amazonian I need to convince. What sympathetic pull can I elicit to change her mind?

“We’ll be neutral,” I assure her. “There won’t be any sides for us.”

She clicks her tongue. “You are side.”

“What does that even mean?” I sigh in frustration. “I’m not on any side.”

“You are winning side.”

“Hardly.”

“Weapon side win,” she persists. “You are weapon.”

I can’t debate that. I’ll be used as a weapon, regardless. The only safe place is sitting on the fence, and even that’s not safe with my poor sense of balance.

“We neutral. Stay neutral. You go.”

I clench my fists at my sides, my fire circling in my palms, too close for comfort. Ryan expressed no doubts they’d be willing to help. Could was a concern, but not would. Maybe he didn’t doubt it since he’s impossibly positive. He’s the most hopeful person I know. He has an unending supply. His faith in others brings waves of grief crashing against my tinder heart. If Aella won’t change her mind, his disappointment will surely drown me. This is worse than a disapproving scowl and forlorn frown combined.

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“Why did you even meet with us?”

“We owe Ryan. No come? You no leave.”

Point to Aella. They aren’t in a position where Ryan could’ve phoned ahead to see if they’d help. Hunting them down was our only option. Bright side: they saved us from further, unnecessary trekking by meeting us at the docks to rip the metaphorical welcome mat out from under us.

I swallow hard. “Are you certain this is how the others will feel?”

Her smile is terrifying. A tremor jolts my spine at the base, moving all the way up my neck, then plummeting to my toes. “We are unit. I am air. I am voice, but unit choose.”

“The unit hasn’t chosen.” I sweep a stray hair from my face. My ponytail is not holding up well against my persistently moist head. “We’ve only just asked you, and only two of you are here.”

“You make bond weak.” Her frustration is evident in the way she’s now pacing back and forth. “You ruin bond.”

There’s a glimmer of hope. If they haven’t come to a unanimous decision, there’s a chance to change their minds. “How can helping someone ruin anything?”

“No agree. No unit. No function.” She groans, continuing to pace back and forth. “You take choice.”

“I take your choice for what?”

“We neutral. No one bother. We choose side? More bother. No peace.”

I scoff. “Your way isn’t peaceful.” Chastising her for their dietary choices isn’t an ideal favor-gaining move, but I can’t accept killing people is peaceful. Even if they slurp out the essence in the most painless way possible, they still take what doesn’t belong to them.

“Oh, Little Fire,” she tuts. “No trust Ryan?”

I glower at her.

“Know unit?” she challenges. “Know really?”

“I know the basics. You’re of air, Evadne’s of earth, Akantha’s of fire, and Dreyna’s of water. You’re a complete Solathair group. A unit.”

“Element no dictate path,” she spits, annoyance thick in her tone.

“And, you all work together. As you said, you function as a unit.”

She nods. “Power tie make strong unit.”

“You’re not helping the mental picture. Four Solathairs against a poor, defenseless human. You’re thugs.”

She screws up her nose in disgust.

“So, you regret what you have to do.”

“No,” she argues. “No regret.”

“I grasp the food chain, but it’s wrong. What you do is wrong.”

“You are confused.”

“I’m not confused,” I counter.

“You see single flame and how it destroy.”

“It only takes one flame.”

“You think we are Tribunal? No human value?”

“I’m sure you value what they provide you,” I hedge. “You appreciate the existence they offer you.”

“No hurt human.”

I stare blanks.

“You are confused.”

“Seems so.”

“Confused for meaning,” she clarifies. “Like Ryan, we find more way for energy. No human.”

A weight lifts from my heart, replaced by a lance of shame. Totally my bad. That was an epically poor assumption on my part. In my defense, Ryan could’ve spilled that juicy bit of intel before we landed in this pile of hot garbage. There’s no team of one…or an I in team…something like that.

I suck in a breath, tasting Chamomile and Clove. Mmm. That’s actually quite nice. I shake my head, refocusing. “I’m at a loss for what to say.” I want to rip my bleeding heart from my chest to show her so she’ll believe how truly sorry I am.

She eyes me warily. “You…regret.”

I furrow my brow.

She grimaces. “How long you push?”

“I’m not pushing. I just want you to help,” I snap defensively.

She sighs. It’s dramatic or long-suffering. Maybe both. “How long you push,” she repeats louder, slapping her hand over her heart.

Apparently, I’m shoving my feelings right down her throat. Awesome. Good job, me.