Page 2

Four days earlier

Rhaego stared out the window of his motionless cruiser, eyes rolling over the rugged scenery below. A sparkling river curled through thick, forested land. Sheer rock faces stretched skyward from the valley floor, and sprawled atop the cliff’s lush plateaus was Tuva. His home.

The distant snowcapped mountains cradling the city glowed in the setting sun, sparking a pang in Rhaego’s chest. Tuva was more beautiful than he’d remembered. Or perhaps he only noticed its beauty now because he knew this was the last time he’d ever see it.

“How long till you get there?” Maxu’s voice echoed through the cramped interior, and Rhaego scowled. He could see the border straight ahead, but he’d commanded the cruiser to hover. Another bitter hour of sentimental dawdling and he’d be ready to set forth again. But Maxu didn’t have to know that.

“Not long,” he lied, following a swarm of knobblefites as they soared back and forth in front of their nesting caves, stretching their wings before setting off for a night of hunting. They were native to Tuva, existing nowhere else on the planet. A snare wrapped around his ribs, making it hard to breathe.

“This is what you wanted,” Maxu reminded. Impatience oozed through the line.

Anger borne of frustration heated Rhaego’s skin and had his claws curling into his palms. None of this was what he wanted .

As promised, the conniving Queen of Tremanta had begun gifting humans to the cities who’d supported her in her electoral bid for planetary representative. She’d been gathering the humans and shipping them off as though they were special deliveries and not intelligent beings who’d already been ripped from their homes once before.

Informants close to the Queen had been leaking information concerning when the convoys of humans were due to be sent out, and for weeks, Rhaego, along with allies across the planet, had been working to intercept these increasingly-armed deliveries. It was a bloody, horrible business, but Rhaego had been party to worse in his time, and for less noble reasons than this.

Not only did the humans deserve the chance to choose where and how they lived while bound to Clecania, but these missions had another purpose as well. To disrupt. The Queen needed to be shown that the world would not simply fall in line and abide her inhumanity. Some would stand for what was right. Rhaego certainly would. Especially after what she’d done to Marsol.

“It’s not too late to turn back,” Maxu continued. “We can reason with him.”

“Marsol will only hear reason that aligns with his own,” Rhaego breathed. “And even that clarity will be gone soon enough. How long did it take your mind to cloud when Meg was taken from you?”

Silence rang from the other end of the line, and Rhaego knew he’d landed his point.

Marsol was one informant who’d been under the Queen’s employ. A week ago, he’d been organizing the transport of four shipments of humans still asleep in cryotubes and passing along their planned routes to Rhaego’s team. During his inspection of the humans, his eyes had turned black, marking the initial recognition of a mate. Later that night, his marks had appeared, confirming his suspicions.

Though the female had been fast asleep behind glass and entirely unaware of his presence, his soul had recognized its match. It was a marvelous event.

But Marsol had been sloppy and impatient, hastily planning the kidnap of his mate from under the Queen’s nose without waiting for help. Word of both his affiliation with the dissidents as well as his blackened eyes had reached the Queen before he could make his move. Not only had she sent soldiers to collect Marsol, but in a display of petty revenge, she’d sent the human shipments out early as well.

Had she been hoping to see the devastation on Marsol’s face when he realized his mate was bound for marriage in some distant city, never to know of his existence? If so, she’d failed to see his pain though she’d succeeded in inflicting it. Marsol had narrowly escaped arrest, but he’d fled Tremanta a broken male.

As horrible as the Queen’s actions were, there was a silver lining to her depravity. She’d given them a weapon they could wield against her.

All the support she’d garnered during her election had been formed on shaky ground. The world knew of her bribery and gray morals, yet they were willing to turn a blind eye considering she was shrewd enough to succeed in getting the Intergalactic Alliance to reclassify Earth—a feat every Clecanian wanted.

But would they still feign ignorance of her corruption if they learned she’d knowingly separated fated mates? The act was unthinkable. Their laws concerning matehood superseded all others for a reason.

If Marsol were to come forward and reveal to the world what the Queen had done merely out of spite…well, perhaps they could turn some of her allies to their side.

The scandal would rock her supporters. Maxu had practically drooled at the implications. But there was one insurmountable problem.

Marsol refused to speak out if Diana—his mate—wasn’t by his side.

They’d tried and tried again to convince him that coming forward would be the best course of action, but he’d made it clear that he would only reveal what the Queen had done if and when Diana was recovered. And the longer they waited, the more risk there was of his sensible mind devolving from mate deprivation.

Rhaego didn’t want this mission, but he understood Marsol’s argument. There were at least some within the Queen’s good graces that must be aware of what she’d done and, however begrudgingly, approved. If there were some , then there were others.

What if Marsol came forward and the Queen denied it all? What if she kidnapped Diana and hid her away, waiting for Marsol to perish from deprivation? What if King Yaskan—the ruler of the city Diana had been sent to—remained loyal to the Queen? Yaskan was a pragmatist, and had already proved himself a close ally of the Queen.

Rhaego wasn’t entirely sure his decision would be any different from Marsol’s if put in the same position. The male’s first objective was to get his mate back, and Rhaego couldn’t blame him for that. Who knew how quickly deprivation symptoms would come on? His marks had appeared within hours. Would his illness progress just as quickly?

“Have you spoken with him again?” Rhaego asked.

There was a moment of silence, but he could swear it felt hot with Maxu’s anger. “He’ll come around…eventually.”

Rhaego let out a slow exhale. “You should know better than most that isn’t true. If I weren’t here now, Marsol would be clawing his way out of that cabin and storming through the borders of Tuva himself just like you did to retrieve Meg.”

“I wasn’t putting others at risk when I set off for Meg,” Maxu snapped back.

“Marsol feels the same,” Rhaego argued.

The male’s saving grace, and the only reason Rhaego and Maxu had even considered this rescue mission, was that the Queen didn’t know which specific human he’d recognized. Not her name nor where she’d been sent. Only Marsol, who’d arranged the shipment, had known.

Rhaego supposed it hadn’t much mattered to the Queen at the time. The human was evidence after all. Better to send her to the other side of the world. Only after the Queen’s guards had reached Marsol’s home and found it empty had she realized her mistake. Her leverage against Marsol was gone.

Tuva, Cribus, Ubolensk, and Zentithro. Those were the four cities that could have received Marsol’s mate, Diana. Though Rhaego and his team knew she’d been sent to Tuva, whispers from Tremanta confirmed the Queen did not. They’d started planting false clues for the Queen’s spies to find, pointing her toward Zentithro with the hope that Rhaego could mount a rescue attempt while her head was turned.

Though retrieving Diana was a strategically beneficial move, there was another reason Rhaego had agreed to this mission—insisted on it, even. Matehood. The reverence Rhaego had for matehood was second only to the Goddess. They went hand in hand in his eyes, matehood being a gift that the Goddess could at any time take away if they proved themselves unworthy again.

The Queen’s actions shook the bedrock of his belief. He didn’t understand how anyone could stand by and witness such sacrilege. How many more acts of disrespect would it take for the Goddess to abandon them for good? How would he ever find a mate of his own if he didn’t stand with her now and right this horrible wrong?

His hatred of the Queen coated his insides like tar as he thought of Marsol’s suffering, his resolve hardening like rock in his veins. Rhaego hoped that if the same ever happened to him, and his mate was taken, someone out there with the means to help would do so despite the danger.

“Mates cannot be separated,” Rhaego declared. “Marsol doesn’t have the luxury of taking the time needed for strategic thinking. He needs his mate, and I’m his best chance.” There was no questioning the matter. He would do whatever he could to retrieve the female and return her to where she belonged, where the Goddess had decided she belonged.

“Best chance,” Maxu scoffed without much vigor. “Don’t they still treat you like a servant in Tuva? That king accepts your donations and expects you to drop everything when he has a mission that needs doing but still acts like you’re a bad omen. You don’t even have a plan yet. Come back and we can do things my way.”

“I have many plans,” Rhaego argued. “But I don’t have only myself to consider.” Rhaego’s voice dropped low. “You know what I mean.”

A prolonged beat of silence rang through the line. “Your mother.”

“I will either make it out of Tuva with Diana, or I’ll be caught. Either way, I’ll be revealed as a traitor and banished. I hope I can convince my mother to leave with us, but if not…” Rhaego cursed silently. “I want to leave minimal wreckage if I can.”

The entire trip to Tuva, Rhaego had run through scenario after scenario, but no matter how hard he thought, he couldn’t see a way to sneak Diana away without his people knowing he’d done it. All roads led to exile, and unless he could somehow convince his mother to come with him as well, he might never see her again.

Maybe if he had help it would be possible, but this mission was destined for him alone. His people were xenophobic to the extreme. Outsiders weren’t allowed, and if a non-Tuvastan somehow managed to be gifted entry into Tuva, they never stayed long. Though the humans were a slightly different matter, considering they were the only species capable of inducing matehood, he still worried what reception they’d receive.

Rhaego knew how it felt to be treated differently. He didn’t want that pain for the humans. Not only were they females, precious in their scarcity, but Rhaego felt in his bones that they were direct gifts from the Goddess. What else could anyone with sense surmise?

A species on the brink of extinction suddenly discovered a planet of beings capable of halting that extinction? And moreover, these beings had the ability to awaken sacred mating instincts which had remained dormant for centuries?

As his mother said, coincidences were just the footprints of fate. Rhaego had to agree. That he, the only Tuvastan among their group, had access to the very city Marsol’s mate had been sent to was evidence that the Goddess wanted him here. Still, a weariness infected his bones, knowing what sacrifices were needed. His city, his people, his mother.

“Verakko and I are working on an override so we can send a cruiser in to retrieve you once you’ve figured out what you want to do, but it’s proving problematic,” Maxu explained. Rhaego’s gaze strayed to the Tuvastan border, where a line of cruisers waited. They weren’t permitted past that point, and if he tried to fly in without prior authorization, his cruiser would simply fall out of the air, a powerless piece of scrap. “I’ll be in and out of touch for a week. We’re heading to the smaller towns outside of Zentithro. Some of us need to be spotted near the city. We have to build the lie that Diana was taken there to give you time to get her out of Tuva,” Maxu announced, voice tightened into that of the general he’d grown to become. “Verakko is going to keep working on the override, though, so you’ll need to be ready as soon as he gives word.”

“Zentithro.” Rhaego’s eyes drifted to the communicator. The four shipments of humans had slipped past them because of Marsol’s blunder, and they could do little to retrieve them now. The humans trapped in Zentithro would remain. Rhaego scowled. He didn’t enjoy failing.

“We knew we wouldn’t be able to free them all when we started this,” Maxu reminded, reading Rhaego’s thoughts.

His claws retracted and lengthened with his annoyance. “Perhaps they’ll find their mates,” he added hopefully.

Maxu barked out a bitter laugh. “For the humans’ sake, I hope not. It’s molting season.”

Rhaego stiffened. “The mating instinct doesn’t dictate based on attractiveness.” If it did, he was in trouble. He hadn’t yet come across a human who didn’t shrink away at his appearance.

Jade, a human friend of his, had explained that his race resembled evil creatures from earthling lore called demons. She’d assured him most would find him attractive after the initial shock wore off and to not take it personally, yet he couldn’t help the gnawing concern.

“Even a molting Zentilian could recognize a human,” Rhaego urged, more to calm his own misgivings than convince Maxu of anything.

“What a depressing thought for humans everywhere,” Maxu drawled.

Rhaego heard the unmistakable thump of a soft slap. “Hey!” Meg, Maxu’s mate, chided from the background.

“What plan are you leaning toward? Can you at least tell me that?” Maxu pressed. His tone was bored, but there was a hint of a teasing smile in it, as if he were currently grinning back at Meg.

Rhaego ground his teeth. Luka, a male well-versed in matehood, had combed his records for any indication of how long mates could be parted before mate deprivation killed them, but there didn’t seem to be a clear answer. Some had perished within a week. Some a month. And some went on to live for years, though they’d left their sanity behind.

Survival appeared circumstantial. Those who died the quickest were widowed. It seemed to help if the separated, mated pair knew the other was out in the universe, alive and waiting. But Marsol had already been separated from Diana for a week. He was strong and had shown no signs of deterioration yet, but how long could he last? And how long could they distract the Queen before she realized what was happening?

Rhaego didn’t have the luxury of time. He needed access to Diana now , which left only one avenue.

He opened his mouth but didn’t speak. He dreaded revealing his idea to Maxu.

“Rhaego?”

He kept his voice even. “I’m going to compete in the chase.”

The annual chase began in four days, and he was certain the humans would be forced to participate. Rhaego had no doubt the king would rather thrust his new acquisitions into the ancient Tuvastan marriage tradition without proper preparation than allow them time to grow accustomed to Tuva. King Yaskan had not an iota of patience in his body.

Rhaego expected ridicule from Maxu, some comment about how he just wanted to catch a human for himself, but when Maxu spoke, it was with sincerity. “Are you sure you want to do that with the heat so close?” When Rhaego didn’t respond, he continued in a lower tone. “I know what a chase can do to your mind.”

He considered his warning. As a half-Traxian, Maxu knew better than most what kind of instinct sparked in a Tuvastan’s blood during a chase. An animalistic side that only had a mind to catch and subdue cast a veil over sensible thought.

Rhaego shook off the twinge of doubt. “I know she is another’s mate. My fever will recognize that. She’s meant for someone else, and by catching her, I can make sure she’s safe and in my possession until we get her out.”

“By marrying her.” It wasn’t a question. It was a reminder.

Though Rhaego should’ve been annoyed, he found himself satisfied Maxu was finally taking marriage seriously rather than treating it like a silly, pointless tradition the way he used to. “If I don’t catch her, she’ll be impossible to reach until after her marriage is through, and we don’t have that long.”

Once a bride was caught in the annual chase, she and her husband engaged in bonding. Traditionally, bonding lasted for six weeks and required that every time the couple left their isolated marriage den tucked high within the cliffs, they bound their hands together until they returned. The only exception to this rule was the two-hour weekly luncheon the wives shared while their husbands saw to tedious household chores.

Finding a way to be alone with any married female during bonding as an unmarried male would not only be impossible but illegal. If he wanted to so much as speak to Diana in the next month, he’d need to marry her.

“Then you should be ready when Verakko sends word. Assuming you catch her at all, that is.” Maxu finished by throwing in a subtle dig, but it barely registered.

His participation in the chase wasn’t certain yet—that was true. He’d need to convince the king to allow him to join the qualifying bouts late, and though Rhaego believed he could talk his way in, there was still a chance the king would refuse him.

But when it came to the matter of whether he could catch a wife, there was no shred of doubt. Rhaego didn’t take part in the chase often anymore, but when he did, it was known among all that he would catch whoever he chose and woe to anyone who tracked his quarry.