"Anglas?" the yellow one asked again, his head rocking between all of us. "Sa speyak Anglas?"

I was pretty sure that was supposed to be my language, but his accent was even worse than the Wyvern's. While their own language was clipped and quick, they spoke English as if they had a mouth full of stones.

But the Wyvern simply waved the yellow one to a chair. "Rymar doesn't use English as much."

"But you do?" I asked, looking between him and Kanik. "And what is a Rye-mar?"

That made the Wyvern laugh and point at the yellow one. "Rymar. That's his name."

"And no one uses English," Kanik said, his accent much better than the others.

"Why don't you use it?"

Kanik chuckled softly. "It's a dead language. Old books -" he tipped his head at the one I was still holding. "They are written in it. Knowledge that would have been lost is kept in them, but no one uses those words for conversation. Many of us learned as children, but only to read. Some of us learned to write in it, but very few. In school, we teach the children pieces so they can understand our own language better, but only in writing."

"Why doesn't anyone speak it?" I asked.

It was the Wyvern who answered. "Because the world changed."

I nodded, thinking about the battle between Heaven and Hell. "And you learned to read the books that were left behind?"

"Yes," he agreed. "You say the vowels strangely, and you do not sound like the teachers. I was always told it was only good for science. We did not realize the Moles spoke it."

"Who?"

He gestured to me. "The Moles. The people from underground. We're Dragons, we were visiting the Reapers, and you are a Mole."

"Reapers?" I asked. "Like the myths of those who take the dead?"

"No!" Kanik laughed.

And the yellow man - Rymar - leaned over his knees. "Dey reep vat dey sew."

"They're called Reapers because they reap what they sow," the Wyvern clarified, repeating Rymar's words. Then he added, "They also have a farm near the Mole base. We trade with them for many things, unlike the Moles who simply take."

But he kept saying that, and I was sure he'd made a mistake. "No, I'm not a Mole! The people I come from are called the Righteous."

He slowly shook his head. "There is little righteous about a Mole, I assure you. Why are you here?"

I had no idea how to answer that. "Because this is where you brought me?"

His eyes narrowed. "Why aren't you in your hole? I do not know the word for it, that place under the Earth. Your kind does not allow women out, so why are you…" He gestured around us. "Here?"

With all three of these men looking at me, I debated how truthful to be. Evidently, they had some knowledge of my people, but I wasn't sure how much. Maybe I should tell them I was an explorer? Would they buy that? Probably not.

"I was a bad wife," I mumbled.

Shock took over Kanik's face. "You're married?"

"I think so."

That earned a chuckle from Rymar, which he quickly smothered by shoving a multi-colored hand over his mouth. It didn't stop his turquoise eyes from sparkling at me, filled with amusement. For a moment, he only watched me, and I wasn't sure if he was trying not to make me feel foolish or just searching for words.

Then the Wyvern cleared his throat and said, "I would love to hear how it is that you can be not sure. I would think marriage was a memorable thing, but I have never tried it."

It had been very memorable, but not in a good way. I felt a prickle on my skin at the memory of that horrible night. My heart started to beat faster. Marrying Reynold Saunders wasn't something I wanted to think about, or what these men might take from it.

"They said the words, and then he kissed me."

The corner of the Wyvern's lips moved higher. "Kissed? I think there's something that comes after that."

So I lifted my eyes and defiantly met his strange orange ones. "I stabbed him with a fork?"

His reaction was not what I expected. Sitting across from me, the Wyvern barked out a laugh. The others joined him a split-second later, clearly sharing some joke I wasn't aware of.

Then Rymar gestured at me and asked. "Uh fourk? Vhy dod yu uze a fourk, Orin?" His accent was so thick I could only really make out the name he called me in all of that.

"My name isn't Orin. It's Ayla."

That made their laughter stop, but didn't remove the smiles.

"Ayla," Kanik said, looking me over. "I think I prefer it."

But the Wyvern asked, "Do you know what orin means?"

"No."

He leaned over and tugged at a loose lock of my hair. "Pale. Without sunlight. Pastel."

"My hair is blonde. The sun has nothing to do with it."

He shook his head slowly. "The sun has everything to do with it. Only Moles are orin-colored. Only Moles have skin as sheltered as yours. All Moles are pale, with hair like rare metals and skin that is nearly transparent. You, Ayla, are orin. That means you are a Mole."

Twenty-NineAyla

"I

'm not a Mole!" I insisted. "I was one of the Righteous - until they threw me out."

"Fer da fork?" Rymar asked.

"Because they said I tried to kill a man." I paused. "Well, attack."

"A fork isn't exactly a lethal weapon," the Wyvern said.

I paused, replaying his words to make sure I had them right. His accent was still strong, yet his English was perfect. Strangely so. How did he even know the word "lethal?"

"A fork was all I could reach," I explained. "When Mr. Morgan slapped me, I told him to go to Hell, so he was going to punish me harder. I kneed him in the genitals before he could hit me again, so they made me marry Mr. Saunders, and they held me so I couldn't hurt him the same way."