Ka'Cit's Haven (Riv’s Sanctuary #3)

The phek?

The last thing he’d called cute was a Taraxian slave master who’d begged for its life as his blade had flirted with its throat.

And it had been “cute” only because its pleas were the last words that left its lips.

His brow furrowed a bit as he watched Nee-ya.

But she was cute.

Cute but also so small and helpless.

Vulnerable.

Just how had she gotten away from Herza and triggered the lockdown? She must have been guarded. Herza was cheap and opportunistic, but she was no fool.

Nee-ya said something that he didn’t catch and Ka’Cit blinked.

He’d spoken out loud?

One look at his expression and she giggled—a sound that tickled his ears in a most unexpected way—and then she did a motion with her hand as if she was throwing something.

“Ai yoozed ah peb-broo.”

Ka’Cit frowned. He didn’t quite understand what she was trying to tell him.

She shook her head and settled back down.

“How?” he repeated. “How did you get away?”

She laughed a little again then shook her head once more.

Then it seemed as if she decided to tell him and she got up on her knees.

She looked at him pointedly and he assumed she was telling him to pay attention.

He couldn’t help but lean forward a little. This was…fascinating.

She began moving, her arms extended and grasping the air in front of her.

She moved on the spot in a circle as if she was enclosed. Her brows were knitted and she put an exaggerated look of trepidation on her face.

“You were locked up?”

She glanced his way and nodded ecstatically.

“Wow, yoo got it fursst trahy. Oh-kay. Koool.”

She then grabbed the hood of her cloak and put it over her head. Glancing at him, she wrinkled her nose and shook her head from side to side while mumbling words underneath her breath.

Ka’Cit chuckled. He couldn’t help it.

The Niftrills.

That had to be the Niftrills.

She glanced at him, her eyes holding a question.

“Niftrills?”