Page 24

I’m going to meet his mother.

Nervous energy ping-ponged around Aurora’s stomach, landing particularly hard on her bladder. The building strength of her cramps wasn’t helping either, though she hadn’t started her period yet.

The imposing nature of the Eyrie compounded matters. The shuttle they were currently on was a long multi-chambered vehicle that ran up the side of the mountain like a funicular, though she could see no tracks carved into the rocky side. Clouds above obscured their view of the Eyrie. She wondered what she’d see when their shuttle rose above them.

Rhaego had been quiet, nervous energy making him distant and fidgety. They’d left Phirdo behind at the entry station, but the presence of other passengers in their compartment kept them from speaking openly about what she’d learned at the luncheon.

“I had a good conversation with Maggie and Diana,” she tried, scooting closer to Rhaego, who was staring absently out the window.

His eyes cut to her, movements sharp. “Good. I’m glad.”

When he looked away again, Aurora’s shoulders tightened. She’d thought this would be a good experience, but she now felt self-conscious about the whole thing. She’d essentially invited herself to meet his mom. His sick mom. What had she been thinking? And it wasn’t as if she could take it back now.

They rose into the low cloud cover, and the world outside turned into a blur of white swirling mist. She fiddled with the clasp on her binding experimentally. She couldn’t even offer to wait outside—the binding ensured she’d be three feet away at all times, no matter how personal or private their conversation became. Stupid, she berated herself.

Another minute went by before they broke through the clouds and the Eyrie came into view. A collection of grand halls and houses sprawled along the mountain peak like something out of a dream. How had it been built? What prevented the stone from eroding and crumbling into the city below?

Rhaego explained that the Eyrie was where Tuvastan women lived. While some still preferred the warmer, more crowded city center, most chose to live within the protective confines of the Eyrie. Apart from a handful of exceptions, men were not permitted to live here, only to visit.

But Rhaego had explained his mother had always lived here. Aurora’s brows furrowed, mind working. And he’d also said she’d raised him after his father’s death. Did that mean he’d lived here too? Was that what that woman at the luncheon had meant when she’d said he’d been raised in an unconventional way?

The shuttle came to a halt outside a cavernous entry bay. Tuvastan women milled about. Though she’d just been at a luncheon with all women, it was still strange to see so many gathered in one place after their morning in Tuva, which comprised mostly men.

The wind howled across the entry bay, cold and angry, making Aurora shudder. Despite his distracted mind, Rhaego noticed. He stepped closer to her, allowing some of his body heat to sink into her bones, and ushered her deeper into the open-air hall before them.

They stepped through a stretch of air that felt resistant, like stepping through a paper-thin sheet of jelly, and she was hit by a gust of warmth. The deafening roar of the wind became a distant whisper behind her.

“Whoa.” She spun in place, stretching her palm until she felt the resistance again. She stretched further and her fingertips felt the chill gust of air from a moment before.

“It’s a curtain,” Rhaego explained, leaning close and allowing his warm breath to brush against her ear. Her shivers returned, but for a different reason. “It keeps the weather out.”

Aurora tested the curtain, dipping her hand in and out of the cold air beyond the invisible barrier.

“I’m sorry, little bride, but we must hurry if we want to visit before the Eyrie closes to outsiders.”

“Sorry.” Embarrassment heated her cheeks, and she snatched her hand back. “Lead the way.”

Aurora’s head remained on a swivel as Rhaego guided her through gilded passageways with verdant flowering plants and bubbling fountains. They reached a cold stone door at the end of one wide hallway, and Rhaego placed a palm against a scanner to the left of the door.

“Her name’s Ishara , right?” She doubted her own memory even though she’d been repeating the name in her head so she wouldn’t forget.

Rhaego nodded, expression tight.

Aurora fiddled with the gold spider clasp on her wrist. Suddenly she recalled her afternoon swim and frantically tried to smooth her hair. “Do I look terrible?” she hissed, sliding her palms across her scalp in a frenzied attempt to tame the frizz.

Rhaego grabbed her hands, pulling them in front of her. “You look divine.”

The door creaked open, and they both swiveled.

Rhaego’s mother, Ishara, stood in the doorway. She wore a ruched pale blue flower-patterned dress that gathered in some odd spots by her full hips and elegant shoulders, as though she’d donned it hastily and hadn’t bothered to straighten the fabric. She’d covered herself in pounds of jewelry—not in the way other Tuvastan women had, but as though she’d dumped out her jewelry box and put on every single item she owned.

Dark red horns sprouted from thick yet sloppily shorn hair and spiraled for three full rotations, the most Aurora had ever seen. She eyed a blunt lock of hair near Ishara’s pointed drooping ear, weighed down by too much silver jewelry. Had she taken scissors to her own hair?

Her eyes were large and gray. The same color as Rhaego’s. But there was something strange about them. A fevered red glowed around her irises and veined across the whites of her eyes, like magma breaking through cracks in marble.

“Mother,” Rhaego greeted, tipping his head back. His throat bobbed.

Ishara kept her unblinking stare fixed on Aurora, her fever-cracked eyes seeming to read her soul.

“Your bride,” the woman croaked. Her voice was raw and scratched. Like she’d been screaming. Before Rhaego could agree, she sucked in an exaggerated sniff. Her brows tipped down. “You’ve given yourself away, girl. Withhold. Withhold, or you’ll lose yourself.”

“I…”

She darted out faster than lightning and plucked a lock of Aurora’s hair. Rhaego stepped close, stiff and ready, though he didn’t intervene. “Mother,” he warned.

Ishara ignored him, or perhaps didn’t hear him. She lifted Aurora’s hair to her nose and inhaled. Aurora’s stomach dropped. She could smell Rhaego on her.

“He shouldn’t be here,” Ishara whispered, holding Aurora’s gaze. “You should cut it off.” Her gaze turned on Rhaego, and Aurora’s hair slipped from between her fingers. “It’s my fault.” Her hand lifted to cradle Rhaego’s cheek, eyes softening. “I made him too weak.”

A flash of hurt made Rhaego’s shoulders stiffen. His mother’s words were cutting, but her expression was so full of love that Aurora didn’t think she really understood what effect they had. A fist squeezed her heart.

He laid his palm over the top of Ishara’s. “May we enter, Mother? I need to speak with you.”

A spark of clarity dimmed the red in her eyes, and her hand fell away. She didn’t respond, only turned and walked inside, leaving the door ajar.

“We really can’t take this off?” Aurora dug her nails beneath the spider clasp of her binding, gently trying to pry the spindly legs up.

Another flash of hurt passed over Rhaego’s face, stilling her. She touched his arm again. “I just mean…I thought it might be nice for you to be able to sit with her without me hovering. So you can have some privacy if she gets overwhelmed.”

His brows softened. “It can only be removed by the binding clerics.”

A clatter sounded, and Rhaego pushed inside. The home was cluttered but not messy for the most part. A pile of shattered glass and pottery lay in the open doorway of a balcony with a terrifying view, and Aurora gestured to it. “Do you have a dust pan? I can clean up.”

Ishara lounged at a round table, feet propped on the opposite chair. A tangled pile of jewelry was scattered across the table. With a long claw, she scooped up a silver ring with a fat black gem and slipped it onto her finger. The ring only reached her middle knuckle, stopped by the three other rings already stacked below. She straightened her arm, admiring her hand. “Sit, human.”

Aurora blinked. The woman hadn’t spoken directly to her, so it took her a moment to comply.

Rhaego followed closely behind, unable not to since they were connected. “What happened here?” He gestured to the glass on the floor as Aurora pulled out a chair and sat.

Ishara’s gaze flicked to it, and the red glow grew fiery. She didn’t answer, but her sharp gaze scrutinized Aurora. “Were you robbed?”

Aurora exchanged a glance with Rhaego. “Uh, no.” The question was odd, but there was a lucidity to her words that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

“Then you’ve decided to shame my son by walking through the city without a scrap on. They’ll think he’s neglecting you.”

“Her world is different, Mother,” Rhaego tried, stepping close but not sitting as Ishara hadn’t removed her feet from the only remaining chair.

She swiped her hand toward the back of the home. “Leave us to speak, boy.”

Rhaego slipped a cylindrical object out from under a large tiara, inspecting it with scrunched brows. “Is this elixir? How…how did you get this?” He bent to his knees and caught his mother’s eye. “You shouldn’t have this.”

Her gaze widened, a soft smile curling her lips. She brushed her fingertips against the tips of his hair. “He said you cut it.”

Rhaego’s jaw stiffened. “The king? Did he give this to you? Why? When?”

Ishara’s focus drifted back to Aurora, and he sighed.

“What is it?” Aurora whispered.

“A drug that should be controlled by doctors,” he grumbled. Ishara waved her hand again, seemingly unconcerned by the fact that Aurora and Rhaego were bound together and he couldn’t go very far. “I’ll just be there.” He tipped his chin toward the glass behind her seat, and Aurora nodded. She turned her chair, extending her wrist farther toward him and giving him more of a reach so he could clean the mess.

Ishara continued to pull on jewelry, lifting the most beautiful headpiece Aurora had ever seen from her pile. “This,” she breathed, lifting the piece into the light until the dangling red gems glittered, “was a gift from Rhaego’s father.”

Out of the corner of her eye Aurora could see Rhaego’s attention flick toward them every few seconds as he scooped up the glass from the ground. His eyes settled on the headdress as she secured it on her crown and began twirling the long strands of gems through her horns. “He was a wretched choice,” she hissed below her breath.

Aurora’s heart clenched at the stiffening in Rhaego’s frame.

“You have to be careful who you deem worthy, human. Don’t let a wretch beget you with child.” Her hand settled across Aurora’s, warm and gentle. “Affection isn’t enough.” Ishara peered down at Aurora’s stomach, her nostrils subtly flaring. “You’ll be fertile soon. If you can’t keep your buckling, know the male you choose is fit to keep them.”

What the hell did that mean? Could Ishara somehow tell her period was about to start? She knew a Tuvastan’s sense of smell was good, but damn. She hadn’t even started bleeding, though she checked often, not yet trusting the underwear that Maggie had directed her to use was as effective as a tampon.

Though she wasn’t currently looking to put her upcoming ovulation to use, the way Ishara warned against letting the wrong person impregnate her had her hackles rising. “Rhaego is more than fit,” she insisted on instinct.

“Yes,” Ishara breathed, eyes going glassy. Her whisper dropped even lower. “But I spoiled him. He won’t let you go. And you have a duty.”

“Father wasn’t a wretch, Mother.” The sound of clattering glass being dumped seemed to snap Ishara out of her thoughts. She jumped back, spine stiffening as she straightened in her seat.

“He was,” she proclaimed. “He hid it from me, but after you were born his true nature was revealed. A weakling, a drunk, and a superstitious fool. The Goddess’s eyes were fever-stricken when you were born because she knew I’d picked wrong.”

Aurora’s mind raced. She didn’t understand what the woman was saying, but she knew it was hurting Rhaego, each sentence a barb digging into some old wound Aurora hadn’t yet discovered.

Rhaego joined them at the table, lowering to his knees again so he could meet his mother’s eye line. A cloth he’d been using to clean was still clutched in his hand. “Mother,” he called, gently drawing her attention. “I’m leaving Tuva, and I want you to leave with me.”

“Another mission? When will you return?” Ishara studied her son, eyes bouncing across his expression, reading him. Slowly, her mouth fell. “You’re taking her,” she whispered, understanding narrowing her eyes. Then her brows lifted, a look of pity pouring out of her. “You can’t, my little buckling. She isn’t yours to keep.”

Both Rhaego and Aurora shifted uncomfortably.

“No,” he rumbled. “I’m taking her because she’s been made a prisoner here and because there’s another human in Tuva who has a mate waiting for her. They were separated. I need to reunite them, and Aurora doesn’t want to be left behind.”

“Tell the king,” she barked. “He’d not stand for it.”

Rhaego’s head tipped to the side as he inhaled a calming breath. “I can’t. There are people I need to protect who would be put at risk if I revealed this to him.”

Ishara’s attention was glued to Rhaego, an intelligence working behind her eyes. “Vila,” she breathed, finally.

“Yes.” He nodded. “Will you come with me?”

Ishara leaned back in her seat and glanced between them. “No. No, I can’t leave.”

Aurora chewed on her lip, her heart breaking for Rhaego. She wanted to reach out and pull him into a hug, but this was not even close to the right time.

His throat bobbed, jaw tensing before he admitted, “I’ll be banished, Mother. I won’t be allowed to return. I don’t know how difficult it will be to contact you after either. We may not speak for a very long time.”

It took her a moment to grasp his words. Aurora could see the moment they did because a flare of red burst to life around her irises, and she ripped a bracelet off the table, mumbling to herself in a state of agitation as she tried and failed to clasp the bracelet. Her claws extended and retracted, making the task near impossible.

Aurora stretched forward, taking the chain from her trembling fingers. “Here, let me.”

Ishara stilled, glowing eyes searching her face. “Command him to stay,” she pleaded. “He’s a good buck. He’ll obey his wife.”

Aurora’s eyes flitted to Rhaego, who was rubbing his brow, face pinched. “He’s too honorable for that.” She finished looping the odd clasp and patted his mother’s hand. “A man will suffer and die if he doesn’t help.”

The woman’s fangs seemed to lengthen from beneath her lips. She snarled at Rhaego, who, unlike Aurora, didn’t flinch. Ishara rose to her full height, anger rolling off her like steam. “Let him die! He lost his mate! He deserves to suffer.”

Aurora recoiled when she swung a sharp claw toward her. “You will stay! You’ll join him in heat and give him a child.” Her voice cracked, shout ringing with desperation as she rounded back on Rhaego. “And you’ll stay!”

When Rhaego only peered up at her silently, looking more lost than she’d ever seen him, Ishara’s mouth slammed shut. She whirled, knocking her chair into the wall hard enough that the arm splintered before storming into a room out of sight. Muffled shrieks of anger echoed from whatever room she’d disappeared into.

As though weighed down by a mountain, Rhaego slowly rose. He let out a long breath. “She’s having a flare now. It won’t end soon,” he rumbled, voice thick. “We should go.”

It took Aurora one step and she was standing atop her chair, dragging a confused Rhaego into a hug. Arms thrown around his neck, she pulled him close, ducking to avoid his horns. He remained still for a moment, hands stuck at his sides, but she squeezed, willing comfort to flow from her tensed muscles into him. Eventually he burrowed into the curve of her shoulder, his strong arms slipping around her back.