“They’re an incredibly brutal species,” Riall provides, scooting to the edge of his chair and leaning closer with interest. “The female stings the male when he approaches her to mate, and then he stings himself until he either counteracts her venom or dies. Seems fitting,” he adds, his hazel eyes once again fixed intensely on me. I work not to fidget under the thick fervor that saturates Riall’s stare or to see any link in his description of fettik scorpions versus what me and my Scorpions are doing. What we do and what we are is brutal, but I’m not some creature that could end them because
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