Page 13 of Across the Stars (Cosmic Threads of Fate #1)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

WATAI

Watai could hear his hearts’ thunderous beats, like drums at a harvest festival, rocking through his body, filling him with life as he held his threadmate.

Was this the power of the cosmic connection he’d been longing for? The stories others told didn’t adequately describe his feelings. All he could think about was how much more intense it would be when they completed their cord.

Watai knew he couldn’t keep making excuses to touch her, hoping she’d sense their connection, even though his mother and sister were convinced she wasn’t a child of Z’myu, he refused to believe it.

Deep down, he knew she belonged here, because he wouldn’t be so drawn to her otherwise if she wasn’t.

Iskzo had confirmed his mother’s words, though he’d said Watai wasn’t the only one who was feeling this connection.

She was indeed a part of their cosmic cord—so why wasn’t she responding to him in the same way?

He had seen her dismount her threadmount, even though she had emerged from inside its mouth and not off its back.

Watai admired her for having such a strong bond with a beast he had never seen before, a true Kutsiu from whatever faraway land her people originated.

She had tamed her threadmount well enough that it hadn’t tried to attack him or his wing as they’d carried her away, unconscious and injured by him.

His thoughts kept returning to that moment, wondering why they had been able to leave with her without incident. His only explanation was that Z’myu had protected them that day, not wanting her children to be hurt over an honest mistake.

Now that they were alone in his hut, he was hit by a wave of nervousness that he had never felt before.

This was his threadmate’s first visit to his hut, a place that would soon become a part of her.

Her opinion on how he’d built the residence was important to him.

He was supposed to demonstrate his determination to provide for his cord and his connection with Z’myu by willing the living vines to bend the way he needed them to.

Watai eased her onto the floor, letting her find her balance before pulling away.

He yearned to touch her again as soon as she was no longer in his arms, but knew he must resist the urge. Even the most well-mannered threadmate would grow weary of his touch eventually, and the last thing he wanted to do was annoy her before he could get through to her.

Watai cursed himself for being a fool, refusing to fill his hut with more than just the bare necessities.

He watched her as she slowly spun around, taking in her new surroundings while holding the blanket to her chest. He didn’t miss how she licked her lips, nor her lack of fangs when her mouth opened slightly.

Her eyes widened as they bounced between objects.

“I know it’s not much,” he said, his fists tightening as a fierce determination to do better—to be better—rushed through him.

“But I promise, once we’ve collected your belongings from your tribe, we can redesign this home however you like.

If you want, we can work on expanding this over time…

unless you want to abandon it, which is perfectly fine, too. ”

She glanced over her shoulder and turned to face him. The short tufts of hair over her eyes shot up, as she noticed that he was speaking to her.

“ Ey’ doo’t ondar s’tan da yu,” she muttered, her gaze shifting to the vine curtain that hung over the doorway. “ Wi wuz ey’ ey’bul tu ondar s’tan da yer dra’gun? ”

“Why are you speaking in that manner?” He touched his lips and then waved his hand between them, indicating their inability to communicate. “You don’t understand Z’myu’s language?”

Her face scrunched up in what he could only describe as confusion and disappointment. Her red lips curved into a frown.

“ Eh uh’pyrs xa xes wyl bi shal’yn xen. ”

“Can you understand what she’s saying?” Watai pathed to Iskzo, hoping that his threadmount had a close enough connection along their cord that he could pick up on what she said. “Why does she speak in a different tongue?”

“Without the connection sealed, I can only pick up on strong emotional spikes that pulse through our cord,” Iskzo responded, his mental voice strained. “I can’t understand her spoken words, but I can understand her mental thoughts, which are in Z’myu’s language.”

“Worse than an underling.” Watai tried to remember the last time he had interacted with one recently born on Z’Mynua, and cursed himself for not paying attention to how parents communicated with their newborns. “I’ll have to start from the beginning and hope to find a way to get through to her.”

“I’ll lend you my strength whenever you need it.”

“Same to you, always.”

He sighed, brushing his hair back and suppressing his annoyance at the situation.

What had he done to deserve such a test from Z’myu? He couldn’t have a threadmate from his tribe, so he was given one from a foreign tribe that somehow didn’t speak the native tongue of Z’myu’s children.

Before he could show her around his tribe’s weavetree, he needed to provide her with some clothing to ensure she was comfortable enough to communicate with him.

“I saved what was left of your belongings and cleaned them. They are stored here for you,” Watai explained, walking over to the wall shelves beside the hammock bed and motioning to the two sets of clothing designated for her.

“I couldn’t repair your top, but I was able to make a replacement for you. ”

Watai watched her dark eyes light up as she rushed over to her belongings, surprised that she was so willing to stand beside him when they were still strangers. He pushed down his excitement at the thought that their connection was putting her at ease in his presence.

A dismayed cry escaped her lips as she tossed her foot coverings to the side and searched through the heap of clothing, desperately looking for something.

Watai hissed in surprise, and his tail whipped around in response to the sudden noise. His fists curled as he flicked his gaze to his ring blade on the wall, fully alert and ready to defend his threadmate from any danger.

“ W’yr es it? ” She lifted the clothes one by one and stacked them in a separate pile without pausing. “ Wuh’a hauhn’nd tu eh? ”

Watai became concerned as his gaze followed each piece she picked up and set aside, and he wondered what was wrong.

Had he failed to provide her with the adequate clothing? He’d saved everything she’d been wearing and thought he’d done a satisfactory job of repairing her top with what he had.

She spun around and pointed to the wrist of the arm that was holding up her blanket, stepping closer.

“ W’yr es it? ”

Watai gripped her hand, gently turning her arm over and forcing her to grab the blanket with her other arm, as he examined her wrist, puzzled.

“Are you injured?”

He thought he understood her meaning, until she twisted her arm out of his grasp and mirrored what he had done to her. Instead of pointing to his wrist, she kept hooking her fingers on his bracer and wiggling them against his skin.

It was the first time he noticed how small and delicate her fingers were in comparison to his.

He suddenly remembered the metallic bracer she’d worn on one of her wrists when he’d first met her. He tried to recall what had happened to it when they arrived at the weavetree and landed at his parents’ home.

His mother and sister had taken all of his threadmate’s clothes and placed them in a basket to be cleaned and repaired. Watai realized her bracer had been taken away along with her hunting belt, an oddly shaped weapon, and portable container.

His father demanded that those items be confiscated and locked away until the tribes met for their first celebration since the rainy season.

Whenever a new discovery or invention was made, it had to be presented to the leaders of the six tribes at the Sacred Heart of Z’myu to see if it violated any of the ancient laws or would be beneficial to their people as a whole.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, hoping to calm her fears and put an end to her demands. “I don’t have what you’re looking for, but I promise I’ll do everything in my power to return the rest of your belongings to you once they’ve been cleared by the council.”

Her hand came to a halt as her brown eyes widened with an unexplainable fear.

“ Noh. Noh. Noh. ” She shook her head, her hand slipping from his wrist. “ It k’nt be. ”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized once more, feeling guilty about not being able to return the rest of his threadmate’s belongings to her. “I promise I’ll try to persuade my parents to fight for you at the festival.”

His threadmate clutched her blanket tightly, pressing it against her body with both hands. She sucked in a deep breath and peered out the window, her shoulders slumped.

Despite the fact that they were strangers from two different Z’myu tribes, Watai could see defeat in her wary eyes as they stood in silence.

“I sense a lot of turmoil from your threadmate,” Iskzo pathed, his mental voice tinged with concern. “What exactly did you do?”

“I told her I couldn’t return some of her belongings to her.

” He frowned, fists curled to stifle the sudden rage he felt for disappointing his threadmate.

It should’ve been simple to keep her happy.

“Thank Z’myu, that she appears to understand and is handling it well.

I wouldn’t have faulted her if she blamed me for not protecting her belongings while she was unconscious. ”

“Your threadmate is gracious,” Iskzo replied, sending Watai a wave of support and love, the equivalent of a mental forehead press. “As long as you take things slowly, I believe your differences won’t matter in the long run. She’ll forgive you.”

“I hope so.”

Watai sighed, unsure what else to do as he watched her peer out the window.

Her dark, almost black hair, which he had carefully brushed and braided to ensure that no strand fell on her wound before it had sealed, made her look like a fierce warrior stalking her prey on the forest floor.

Her eyes glistened in the light emitted by the lifestones, her gaze fixed on the world outside the hut as Z’myuxi flew by—both with and without their threadriders.

Watai couldn’t fathom how someone so small and defenseless could survive on Z’Mynua.

The calm and collected manner in which she studied everything outside the hut made him wonder what life was like within her tribe.

She’d appeared surprised and taken aback when she’d seen the weavetree, surrounded by huts and Z’myuzo, which should have been a natural sight for her.

Everything about her was foreign from her body and language, to her threadmount and possessions.

But none of that mattered, because she was his as he was hers, bound together for eternity by their cosmic cord. He would do anything to prove it to her, to seal their bond, and to present them as one in front of the Sacred Heart of Z’myu.

They weren’t bonded yet, and their language barrier made everything more difficult, but he could see how intelligent and mindful she was.

His threadmate had not erupted in rage because her belongings had been taken—some might even say stolen—from her.

Instead, she had handled the news with grace and understanding, where most would have expressed their rage and annoyance.

He could only hope that she would be patient with him as they worked out their differences, so that one day she would honor him by tying their cosmic thread of fate together.

“The darkness will come soon.”

Watai took a cautious step beside the dark-haired female, hoping not to startle her.

As the sun set, the mountains and nearby trees cast shadows on the branches, causing the flora’s natural bioluminescence to brighten.

“I’ll give you some privacy while I remove my threadmount’s saddle, so he can rest his scales for the night. ”

She glanced over her shoulder at him, tilted her head, and frowned. Then she moved her gaze to the hammock bed, pressing her blanket tighter against her body.

He waited for her to say something. When she didn’t, he took it as a sign that she wanted to be alone and had dismissed him.

Watai sighed and nodded, trying not to be offended by her lack of response. She’d had enough and was probably ready to rest for the night.