Page 31

Aurora tried to keep her hands from shaking as she and Rhaego approached the luncheon entrance. She held both cakes, one in each palm. Dropping them would be the last thing she needed. Her mind played through a worst-case scenario where a cake slipped from her grasp, bounced down the steps, the protective fabric she’d wrapped around it falling away, until it rolled face down against the boot of the large horned guard, hidden alcove stuffed with a silver canister shining in the sun for all to see.

Her fingers tightened.

“You’ll be fine,” Rhaego whispered.

She made a small grunt to say she’d heard him but couldn’t manage anything more. They waited as the clerics unclasped the binding of the couple ahead of them. When it was their turn, her feet didn’t cooperate. Rhaego glanced back at her after taking a step, and she forced herself to follow.

The young cleric was braver today. Earlier at the dock, he’d stepped forward with a lifted chin and a business-as-usual attitude. His hand had only wobbled a little when he’d asked for Rhaego’s wrist.

When he asked now, the wobble was gone.

“What do you have there?” a guard asked over the elder cleric’s shoulder.

Aurora took a moment to prepare her throat, making sure her voice wouldn’t crack. “They’re a human tradition. Brides receive special cakes on my planet after they get married.”

Did that sound rehearsed?

The guard peered at the packages in her hand for a long moment. “I’ll send them in.” He reached toward her, and by some divine intervention, she didn’t leap away.

“I’d like to give them to Diana and Maggie myself.” She wanted to say more, explain why it was necessary for her to hand the cake over directly. A tradition or something. But she knew overexplaining would be more suspicious than anything else. Women here expected everyone to do as they asked. Why would a wife need to explain herself? She wouldn’t. Her request should be good enough. Aurora ground her teeth, welding her jaw shut.

After what seemed like hours, the guard tipped his head back respectfully and stepped away.

Don’t exhale all at once. She tried to slowly release the breath she’d been holding. It whistled.

Rhaego plucked one of the cakes out of her right hand, making her heart stutter out. He extended his wrist, and she realized he was waiting for her to wrap the remainder of the dangling binding ribbon back in place. She did, hoping her quick work was enough to hide her shaking.

“I hope you have a pleasant luncheon,” he said with a tight-lipped smile.

It was odd to see Rhaego out in public. He acted differently. All the rules of etiquette he’d started forgetting while alone in the den with her were back in place whenever they left. She realized it was the polite thing to do. In truth she should’ve been making more of an effort to monitor herself and keep from being rude, but it still felt odd to see him like this.

She smiled back at him, hiding her teeth, and gave a nod she hoped appeared confident.

The grotto looked the same as it had during the last luncheon, but the women were more weighed down with finery than they’d been before, with the stark exception of their horns. Last time, precious metals and stones had draped across their horns, but now there was nothing. It made the pounds of jewelry covering them from the neck down look unbalanced.

Another sign of the approaching heat.

Her mind wandered back to the forest. Rhaego’s warnings about the heat and the state he’d be in danced around her brain daily. His red eyes. His fangs. His…size.

He’d succeeded in planting apprehension in her, but there was a dark curiosity too. Rhaego was the man she wanted, and he was beholden to his biology same as her. It wouldn’t be this time, but one day she’d need to join him during the heat, and she’d need to be okay with whatever urges took hold of him.

Aurora shivered. She should be more scared than she was.

“Do I have to come over and reboot you?” Maggie yelled from a crowded table nearby, pulling Aurora’s thoughts out of the gutter.

A voice right behind her said, “You’d think they were all old buddies,” and Aurora leapt a foot off the ground, fumbling with the cakes.

“Diana,” she gasped when she turned.

“A little jumpy, are we?” Diana whispered, dark eyes surveying her. “Good thing you’re always jumpy, or folks might think something’s up.” Her attention caught on the fabric wrapped packages in Aurora’s hands. “What’s that?”

“A cake,” Aurora swallowed, lubricating her dry throat. She peered around and spotted a Tuvastan woman at a buffet table, close enough that she might overhear.

“Ah.” Diana picked up the wrapped cake, appearing unenthused. “Thanks.”

“I made it,” Aurora breathed, eyes flicking back toward the woman nearby as she waffled over which delicious slice of meat she wanted.

When Diana didn’t answer, she glanced back at her and found a look of annoyed disappointment pulling her mouth into a frown. “You too, huh?” Diana sneered.

“Me too?”

Cake gripped in her hand, she used it to point toward Maggie, who looked to be in the middle of a fascinating story based on the way the group around her listened with wide eyes and parted lips. “You’re both settling in, forgetting to be upset that we’re trapped here. Maggie’s gone sweet on her husband ”—she made air quotes with her free hand—“and she’s the veritable belle of the ball with the rest of them. And you.” She lifted the cake between them. “We’ve been here for three weeks, and you’ve learned to bake? How the hell can either of you function day to day?”

Diana’s words were pouring out now as if she’d been bottling them up and letting them fester inside. “This isn’t right.” Her voice cracked. “Any of it. We’re not supposed to be here. Not just here in this city, but here . This planet. Trapped like rats and only let out to be impregnated. They can dress it up all they want, but what do you think will happen if we say no long enough? I haven’t met any spinsters, have you? But thank you,” she spat. “Thank you so much for the cake.”

The sting of Diana’s words registered then passed. Aurora had a choice. She could allow herself to feel offended, retaliate by explaining the purpose of the cakes and make Diana feel small. Or she could see the venom in her voice for what it was. Pain.

“No one’s forgotten, Diana,” she said gently, placing her hand on Diana’s shoulder, which she promptly shrugged off. “I’m a witch—did you know that?”

Diana angrily swiped a stray tear off her cheek, eyes rolling then flicking toward Aurora for only a moment before returning to stare resolutely away.

“I’ll take that as a no,” she sighed. “I work in the kitchen. It’s what I’ve done since I was little. It’s how I cope. When I was old enough to understand my parents had left because they didn’t want me, the kitchen was my safe place. When I was bullied at school, I’d practice my spells to make them stop. When…” Her voice caught, throat welling. “When my nan died, I spent days cooking all manner of things for her funeral, and as droves of people who loved her came to visit and ate my food imbued with healing magic, I felt better. You may think it’s silly and you may not think what I do is real, but cooking is how I help myself and the people I care about. So yes, when I was abducted from my home and sent away from everything I know, everything I love, I didn’t wallow, I did what I always do. I found a way to help myself and those I care about. Including you.”

Diana wiped another stray tear away, jaw firm, and arms crossed.

“I imagine Maggie is doing the same thing,” Aurora said quietly, peering over at the laughing woman. “Except she deals by being a ray of foul-mouthed sunshine.”

She chuckled at that, a sad choked sound that seemed to spur more tears to the surface.

Aurora tried touching her shoulder again, and this time she didn’t shrug her off. “I’ve loaded that cake with zimi for warmth and protection, swanit root for strength.” The woman who’d been lurking nearby finally left, and Aurora stepped closer. “I’ve also put something else in there. Something I need you and Maggie to use at sunset in two days.”

Diana’s dark brows drew together. She sniffed. “What?”

A burst of laughter exploded from Maggie’s table. All Tuvastans quieted their chuckling, lowering it to a courteous volume, but Maggie didn’t. Still guffawing and slapping the giggling Tuvastan woman next to her on the shoulder, she rose from the table.

“And he didn’t even skate,” she called back to the table over her shoulder, earning a renewed wave of laughter.

Smile bright and orange hair bouncing with her steps, Maggie approached them. “My fellow humans,” she boomed in greeting. Her grin flickered when she took in Diana’s reddened eyes. “What did I miss?”

Inhaling a deep breath and casually taking stock of everyone around them, Aurora extended her hand. “I think we should go for a swim, but…” She eyed the cakes warily, then gazed around the grotto. Where could she put them where they wouldn’t be meddled with?

“Let me,” Diana offered. She took both from Aurora and walked over to one of the guards near the wall. The same one who’d she’d yelled at the week before, Aurora realized. She said something they couldn’t hear, and the guard’s back straightened. He nodded.

Diana set the cakes on a table near him and joined them. “Ready?”

“Are…are you sure?” Aurora kept the cakes in sight, brows drawn.

“Yeah,” Diana drawled. “He’s got a crush on me or something. I think he’d cut off his left ear if I asked him nice enough.”

“Well, okay, then,” Aurora said with lifted brows. “Let’s swim.”

***

By the time the luncheon was over, Aurora’s spirits were bright. She was still as nervous as ever, but she felt she’d explained everything well and none of the other wives had suspected a thing. She was truly proud to have helped in some small way, and the feeling was intoxicating. So much so that an eagerness built inside her. There was only one puzzle piece left out of place.

Rhaego’s mother.

“Thank you for holding that for me,” Aurora said, reaching out to take the bag Phirdo was carrying.

He grimaced at her. “My lady, I’m happy to hold it.”

Oh right. Aurora pulled her hand back. Phirdo’s mood had been happy when he’d picked them up earlier this afternoon, but it had soured slightly after she’d refused to let him carry the bag she’d brought containing the cakes and some other goodies meant for Ishara. As passerby shot odd looks at Phirdo—rather than Rhaego, for once—she understood why. It made him look like he was being lazy and slacking on his job.

“Thank you, Phirdo. I appreciate it.”

The man stiffened. “I… You don’t…” He seemed torn somewhere between gratitude and annoyance.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Rhaego smothering a smirk. She tugged on their binding.

Phirdo chuffed, gathering his composure. “Back to the den?” he chirped, false cheeriness ringing through the air like a whistle in a library.

Rhaego’s steps paused. He peered down at Aurora. “We could,” he pressed. He’d already mentioned this visit with his mother a few times, assuring her that he’d be happy to go while she was at the luncheon. But Aurora had seen the sadness behind his eyes. Whether he’d admit it or not, he didn’t want to go alone.

So she’d pushed him to wait for her, arguing that she was looking forward to seeing Ishara again and giving her the tea and cake she’d made for her.

“We’re going to the Eyrie,” Aurora announced for Phirdo’s benefit, while keeping her eyes trained on Rhaego’s. The corner of his mouth twitched up, and warmth spread through her chest.

He focused on Phirdo, and they exchanged a nod over the top of her head. “As my wife wishes.”

“Very well.”

Phirdo’s voice was odd. Quieter than normal and lacking all the usual haughtiness. She peered at him as they started toward the Eyrie’s train. His brows were drawn, eyes distant.

Aurora was going to leave it, feeling certain he’d be annoyed if she asked what was wrong, but then he spoke. “How…how is Ishara?”

A flash of black caught her eye as Rhaego retracted and extended his claws, a nervous habit. “Do you know her?” His words weren’t accusatory, more curious.

They walked on either side of Aurora, and she tried to keep her head from looking like a Ping-Pong ball as she glanced back and forth between them.

“Not personally,” Phirdo explained quietly. “But I know of her.”

It wasn’t proper, but Aurora didn’t care. She took Rhaego’s hand in hers, silently supporting him in preparation for whatever Phirdo was about to say.

The steward peered at Rhaego, chin lifting. “She’s a paragon of Tuvastan virtue.”

Aurora’s gaze snapped away from Rhaego in surprise.

Sincerity burned in Phirdo’s eyes, confusing her for a moment. Aurora thought about Ishara’s life, then about Phirdo’s adherence to rules and etiquette, and his words made sense. Of course he’d hold Rhaego’s mother in high regard. As a Tuvastan woman, she’d done exactly as she was supposed to. More than she was supposed to and for longer than anyone expected. Ishara had devoted her life to her people in her own way. Aurora wouldn’t be surprised to learn that many people felt the way Phirdo did.

But how could he be so in awe of Rhaego’s mother and yet so unsettled by Rhaego?

If he truly believed Rhaego was a blight. That’s how.

Rhaego had mentioned he believed Ishara had already been experiencing some signs of the flare when he’d been born. Not out of the ordinary considering her age, but how might it have looked to everyone else? Would they have viewed Ishara’s sudden decline as a result of her newborn’s supposed curse?

Aurora gripped his hand more tightly. Perhaps that’s where their bitterness had all started.

Rhaego was quiet for the rest of the trip to the Eyrie, and it hurt her to imagine why. His steps were slow as they wandered through the halls toward Ishara’s room, and not just to allow her shorter legs to keep up. He was stalling. She stopped a few feet from Ishara’s door and tugged on their binding, catching his attention.

Slowly, she smiled and pulled him toward her using the fabric, reeling him in. A flash of a smile lit his worried lips as he allowed himself to be dragged into her embrace. “Lift me so you don’t have to bend over double,” she whispered.

He obliged, scooping her up with one arm wrapped around her thighs, just under her butt. She pressed his head into the crook of her neck, careful to avoid his horns, and scraped her nails down the back of his head. He purred against her skin.

“Are you okay?” she murmured.

“Yes.” His answer was muffled. She tugged on his hair.

“Really?” she pressed.

He chuckled and pulled back, leveling her with his warm gaze. “You make me okay when I am not okay, little doe.”

Those white-witch-butterfly-sized wings were back in her belly.

“Are you two here for me?” Ishara stood tall in her doorway, staring at them a little more angrily than she had on their last visit.

“Oh, uh, yes.” Aurora wriggled in Rhaego’s arms until he slowly let her down, then turned toward Ishara without thinking. The binding made it so she only managed to turn in place, forcing Rhaego’s arm to wrap around her. Cheeks flaming, she reversed in a circle, untangling herself.

Ishara looked on with a heavy frown, not amused by her idiocy. Without another word she turned and stalked inside, and they followed.

“Make sure your alien doesn’t trip and break something,” Ishara hissed before Rhaego could even shut the door. Her harsh glare landed on Aurora.

“Mother.” Rhaego’s voice was hard, the single word a warning.

“It’s okay,” Aurora assured, giving his hand a quick squeeze.

“Why are you here?” she barked from an alcove at the other end of the house, rummaging through a cabinet for something.

Rhaego’s back straightened. He bent so his face was closer to Aurora’s. “Will you wait behind for a moment?”

Silently, she nodded.

He set the bag he was carrying on the table and followed his mother to the other end of the house. Aurora stayed as far away as she could, extending her arm to further the distance. Rhaego whispered to Ishara, speaking too quietly for Aurora to hear. Averting her gaze and stretching, she dug her gifts out of the bag and set them on the little table. Last time she’d been here it’d been overflowing with Ishara’s jeweled marriage gifts. Now it was clean. The whole house was cleaner than it’d been before, and though angrier, Ishara seemed more in control of her wits today.

“You will not,” she spat loudly, drawing Aurora’s attention. Ishara shoved past Rhaego, who inhaled a heavy breath, peering to the sky for help.

“Three nights, Mother. I need you to be there at the right time. We can’t wait long.”

Ishara’s jaw was stiff, her eyes pulsing red. She stomped through the home straightening items that were already straight and shooting daggers at Aurora. “What is this?” she sneered at the unfamiliar items littering her clean table.

“I made you some things,” Aurora explained. “Tea and a few cakes.”

“Why would I want anything made with your filthy Class Four hands?”

Aurora’s head snapped back as though she’d been slapped.

“Enough,” Rhaego commanded. He hadn’t raised his voice, but the word boomed through the house regardless.

Ishara stiffened and looked sideways.

“Rhaego,” Aurora said after a long inhale, “why don’t I make your mother and me some tea?”

“I think we should be off,” he argued. “I’ve told her what I needed to. She doesn’t want to hear anymore.”

“I’d like to talk to her first.” Aurora shifted her focus to Ishara, steeling herself.

His mother plopped into the chair opposite Aurora, holding eye contact, challenging her.

“I don’t think—” Rhaego began.

“I didn’t raise you to be the kind of male who disregards his wife’s requests,” Ishara interrupted in a snap. “Tea would be excellent. You may make us the rishipi blend I have in my stores.”

Rhaego glanced between them, fighting through some internal argument before finally slapping a hand over the jar of tea Aurora had brought and sliding it off the table. “I will make this . Aurora is imbued, Mother. Her brew might do you some good.”

Ishara broke eye contact at that, lids widening ever so slightly. She peered down at the jar in Rhaego’s fist and eventually nodded. Before he could step away, her hand flashed out and she caught him by the forearm. Her eyes narrowed on the stained knotted ribbon Aurora had tied around his wrist. “What trash is that on my son’s arm?” Ishara hissed. Before Rhaego could interrupt, she held up a hand. “Let us speak as if you aren’t here. That’s what you want, isn’t it, human?”

Aurora straightened gathering her courage and nodded. She aimed a reassuring smile at Rhaego, and at length, he stepped away, giving them as much privacy as he could.

Ishara was a paragon of Tuvastan virtue , as Phirdo had said, and though she might not bother with their stuffy manners anymore, she was still a product of this society. Of this planet. If Aurora wanted to earn her respect, she needed to toughen up. “It’s a spell,” she explained.

“A spell to distract him,” his mother snapped, eyes burning with a building fever. “To make him leave.”

“No.” Aurora bit her cheek, then took in a calming breath. “When was the last time you went out into the city with him?” she asked.

Ishara sat back, crossing her arms over her chest. She chuffed.

“I’ll assume it’s been a while,” Aurora pressed. “Do you know how they treat him? How the city treats him?”

The woman’s agitated fidgeting stilled, and her gaze refocused on Aurora. “They’re superstitious half-wits,” she breathed.

“Some, maybe.” Aurora shrugged. “But it doesn’t change anything. He still feels their hate. And whether he admits it or not”—she chanced a glance at Rhaego, who was staring hard at the floor, arms crossed and shoulders stiff—“it affects him. It hurts him. That trash is a spell I made to help keep others from gossiping about him.”

Ishara’s jaw worked back and forth. “I’m surprised he wore such a thing.” Her voice dropped in pitch, growing thready. “He’s sensitive about… I thought it was better now. He told me it was better.”

“I didn’t tell him what it was for.” She found Rhaego staring at her then, and a wave of empathy made her heart pinch. “I told him it was for luck so he wouldn’t be embarrassed.”

Ishara’s mouth twitched down at the corners, her eyes growing glassy before she blinked and turned away.

“Look, I know you don’t like me, but I couldn’t make him stay even if I wanted to,” Aurora urged. “Are you really prepared to never see him again?”

“He’ll call. And I can…” Her gaze grew distant as she stared out her window, doubt creasing her brows. “I can leave to visit.”

“Maybe,” Aurora breathed. “Do you think you can keep a special communicator hidden? Can you remember the codes needed to arrange a phone call? Are you comfortable leaving Tuva by yourself? You’ll have to do all of that to keep him safe.”

“I can keep secrets,” she whispered while staring out the window, but Aurora saw the certainty in her gaze dim. Her attention swiveled back to Aurora. “You could make him stay. Ask him. Tell him.”

“I don’t think he could live with himself if he didn’t try to reunite Diana and Marsol. He feels like the Goddess set him on this path. You remember mates, don’t you?”

“The Goddess.” Ishara wiped at her cheeks and scoffed. “I gave everything to the Goddess. Everything. I thought I was following the path she’d laid out for me.” She shook her head absently. “And how am I rewarded? She riddles my mind and sends one of her imbued to steal my buckling.” A flare of fever spiked in her eyes, the mere mention of the Goddess stoking her fury.

“You can come with us,” Aurora urged. “He wants you to come with us. Desperately. It’s making him sick to think of leaving you here.” It took everything in her not to peer at Rhaego to make sure he was okay, but she thought it would stall her momentum with Ishara if she did.

“But he will,” she spat. “He’ll leave me for his wife, just as I left him for my husbands. Over and over.” Her voice broke, but her skin was turning maroon in anger. “And he’ll forget about me.”

“Mother?” Rhaego rushed forward.

“I had to leave you,” she cried as she caught sight of him. It was almost as if she’d forgotten he was there. “It was my duty.”

Aurora pressed her fingers against her mouth, emotion clogging her throat. Damn, she’d messed up. She’d only made Ishara more upset.

Rhaego knelt in front of Ishara. “I know. I know. That’s why you must come with us. I don’t know how I’ll get back to you otherwise.”

Ishara’s gaze zoomed around the room, urgent and confused. The flare clouding her mind again. “Ask your father. He’ll bring you to see me.”

Rhaego’s lips thinned, jaw tensing. “Father can’t… Father, he’s…”

Ishara winced, her eyes closing before she shook her head to clear it. “He was a wretch. And a drunk,” she whispered, as though just remembering the way he’d died.

“Can I make you some tea?” Rhaego lifted the container again in question.

Ishara muttered to herself. Aurora could only make out bits and pieces, until she whispered, “Who will take care of him?”

“I will,” Aurora blurted. She exchanged a glance with Rhaego that heated her cheeks.

Ishara stared at her, brows furrowed in what looked like pity, “You are not his mate. You’ll have to leave him. It’s your duty.” She leaned forward, some clarity seeping back into her eyes. “It’s cruel to stay.”

Aurora swallowed past the knot in her throat. “Then you can take care of him,” she tried. “You just have to come with us.”

“In three nights,” Rhaego prompted, drawing Ishara’s wide eyes. “If you can get to the old eastern dock, I can pick you up. But you have to be there on time. Can you do that?”

Rhaego showed her the map on his communicator for good measure, pointing at the dock in question.

Ishara’s face leached some of its color, her gaze drifting across Rhaego’s face. “Yes,” she whispered. “I can.”