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"Well... Bottoms up, then," I say, and they all cheer when I drink.

The entire time, I find myself searching the crowd for Jackson. I spot him. Colorful cords drape his neck like garlands, and he's allowed hisshurrtto be pulled up over his belly. Two omegas crouch in front of him and use the tips of their fingers to paint intricate, swirling patterns on his exposed skin in red ochre. He looks up and sees me, but before he can acknowledge my gaze, even more people arrive, filling in the crowd between us. Water splashes from my bowl as Azin sweeps me along. There are more people to greet, more sacred water to be drunk, and not a single jar of wine around to make the chaos a little easier to navigate.

Niah emerges from the crowd and presents me with a length of woven cord. She ties it around my wrist. The alphas surrounding me erupt in celebration, grinning and pounding my back and shoulders with hearty, congratulatory thumps. I'm slightly suspicious about their extra-exuberant reaction.

"And what is this?" I ask her.

An alpha comes over to fill my bowl—this time with sweet milk wine instead of water. I take an eager sip, delighted.

"For good fortune in fatherhood...and continued fertility in the seasons to come," Niah says. Then she leans closer and whispers, "Tie it around your manhood when the time is right."

A little too eager with that sip. I spray out the wine and break into a fit of coughs. The group erupts into laughter. More back slapping. I'm choking from embarrassment.

"No, no, Niah," I protest. "This is a misunderstanding. Jackson and I... That is not my child."

I try to remove the bracelet, but she clasps her hand around my wrist and stops me.

"He loves you," she says. "Though he may not see it himself. He only needs a little push."

I don't know how to reply to her. I'm completely speechless. It feels as though she's been reading my mind, and I realize that's been the case from the moment we met. She could see something about Jackson and me that neither of us could. And, in fact, so much of my feelings for him could only have been unearthed because of her influence.

All I can do is chuckle. "It seems you were orchestrating more than just a ritual, Niah."

She pats me on the chest, then turns and disappears into the crowd.

Light falls, and the feast begins. The gryph milk wine is finally free-flowing. It's weak stuff, barely enough to make my stomach tingle even though I've drunk so much of it I could probably qualify for a spot in their nursery.

I haven't seen Jackson in hours. The assembled tribes have settled into circles around the cooking fires throughout the encampment. People drift from fire to fire, drawn by different conversations and, more importantly, the chance to dine alongside the honored heroes. They're most interested in my ability to control the sand. And with my powers near their full potency, I'm happy to indulge their curiosity with a little spectacle. They watch with reverent awe as I raise a twirling sand funnel over the fire pit, then reshape it into the terrible likeness of the cursed Shimat as it had advanced upon the encampment. A collective gasp rises when I conjure a phoenix from the sand and reenact our entire battle in miniature.

And then, from the corner of my eye, I notice Jackson passing by behind the crowd. He's alone, and with everyone's attention drawn to my performance, he's able to make a getaway without anyone noticing. He disappears into the darkness. I quickly get up to go after him, and the sand drops out of the air and falls onto the fire, smothering it in a puff of smoke. A few hesitant claps scatter through the group as they try to determine if this abrupt ending was intentional. I hear Niah say something, and everyone cheers. May the gods bless that woman; she's covered my exit.

I hurry along the path between the group circles, following the direction I'd seen Jackson go. Now I'm away from the cooking fires and walking through a forest of tents erected alongside a small stream that trickles over rocks toward the oasis.

"Looking for something?"

I turn around and see Jackson standing beside a tent. He smirks at me and pulls the hood from his head. His neck is still laden with the ceremonial cords, and I remember the one that Niah tied around my wrist. My throat tightens.

"A stronger bowl of wine," I say. "I'm surprised you were able to escape."

"Likewise. You were putting on a pretty wild show there. You could start charging for tickets. You'd be rich."

With a chuckle, I move closer to him, but Jackson steps back. I stop, conscious of my desires and his hesitations. I don't want to startle him.

"I can only tolerate a crowd for so long," I tell him.

"Come on. You love being the center of attention."

"Only with enough wine, or the right pair of eyes. So, what now? Are you off to sleep?"

"Nah. Just a breather. Me and sleep don't really get along so well. Doubt I'll be able to get any shut eye anyway. I'm still fucking charged from today."

Jackson's hand absently touches one of the ceremonial cords around his neck, and I find myself tracking the movement. Torchlight catches the angles of his jaw, the hollow of his throat where the cord rests.

"It's incredible, isn't it?" I say. "The way your powers replenished and passed into me. Whathappenedwhen we were in the Shimat?"

"Yeah... Incredible."

"It shouldn't have been possible without an input," I say.