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Rhaego stared at his mother’s door, shifting from one foot to the other. His chest ached.

What could he say to her that she didn’t already know? Should he approach with anger? Should he ignore the betrayal? He’d be leaving Tuva without her regardless of how this conversation went. Perhaps he should forget it all and try to bid her a loving farewell.

Whatever he did, he needed to choose soon. He’d dropped Aurora at her luncheon, and he couldn’t be late picking her up. He activated the chime and waited.

No sound echoed from inside. He rang the chime again.

Nothing.

Rhaego placed a hand on the door, hoping his print was still registered.

It was.

The door opened, and the words in his throat died. Ripped fabric, broken ceramic, and glass littered the floor. “Mother,” he called into the quiet house.

He sniffed and perked his ears, frowning down at the wreck before him. The house was empty; he could sense it without needing to go in.

His volatile heat bubbled as he took in the mess. “Was my carriage not enough for you?”

This wasn’t the first time he’d arrived only to find her home ravaged. Intense emotional events could send her into a fury like this. He could guess at what the inciting event had been this time.

He moved into the space, shrugging off his coat, then stopped.

Feet stuck in place, his gaze turned into a glare, his fever sparking in anger. Why was his first response to clean up after her?

It was true he’d done this many times before, but why should he now? Why perform this chore after what she’d done?

The afternoon light bounced off shards of glass near her table, and his throat tightened. Service members visited every other day to see to her well-being. They’d clean for her. It wasn’t something he needed to do.

With a long exhale, he whispered, “This will act as my goodbye, Mother.” He stepped fully into her home and began tidying the mess.

He rushed through the Eyrie after leaving but made sure to stop by the office responsible for her care. He explained the situation, and the young male he spoke to appeared unsurprised.

“Yes, we had her home on the schedule for today. After she was found last night, we assumed something like that may have happened.” He punched a few notes into his screen, removing her name from his schedule.

“What do you mean found ?” Rhaego had just assumed his mother was somewhere in the Eyrie. She didn’t typically venture into town, but it wasn’t unheard of, especially if she were avoiding her mess…or him.

“She had an outburst on the shuttle. Raging and weeping about it being the wrong time.”

Another caregiver emerged from the back and extended a screen toward the male, showing him something.

“And?” Rhaego growled. His fever was spiking, aggression too close to the surface for this male to be pushing horns at him.

The male’s own eyes flicked to life, pulsing red. “ And she’s been recovering in the Howling since. As she often does.”

Rhaego found his chin tipping down at the male’s acidic tone. Breathing through his nose, he reigned in control. He pushed away from the counter without another word and stalked to the shuttle.

Though the Eyrie was a sanctuary for most Tuvastan females, visitors were allowed. But the Howling? That was a different story. It was a sacred, private space that only permitted females. No one spoke of it in much detail other than to acknowledge its existence. Rhaego didn’t even know what it looked like.

But he recalled a time when he was young and playing by the courtyard fountain. An older female had taken it upon herself to sit next to him as he’d swished his hand through the bubbling water, bored out of his horns.

She’d asked after his mother, and he’d told her that she’d recently returned from marriage and had gone to the Howling. He could still recall the flicker that’d passed across the female’s face. He couldn’t identify the emotion at the time, but it’d been distracting enough to make him ask whether she’d ever gone.

She’d nodded solemnly, straightening a stray lock between his horns. He’d then asked her why they called it that, and he’d never forgotten her answer. Wind rushes through the canyon of the Howling, she’d said. Females go there to cry without being heard. The Goddess’s breath carries their sadness away.

Rhaego didn’t know if the female had told him the truth that day or not, but he wondered if that’s why his mother had gone there. To cry or scream or whatever she did in that place. He couldn’t decide if the idea of her there, repentant for her actions, made him feel better or worse.

Despite what she’d done, he could only muster so much anger, even now when his emotions shimmered at the forefront of his mind. She loved him. He knew that. But her connection to Tuva coursed through her veins thicker than her blood coursed through his. He’d been naive to imagine she’d leave with him.

His bitterness dissipated, but the mournful vice around his heart remained.