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“I’m getting really good at this, if I do say so myself.” Aurora set a steaming loaf of bread next to a plate of chopped fruit.

Rhaego smiled, admiring the intricate design she’d cut into the loaf before baking.

“And one more thing.” She sped to the small kitchen grinning.

A flash across the window drew his attention, and he peered out just in time to see a malginash swoop by. Lips falling, he gazed at the miles of sand stretching out to the mountains, and thought of the crystal-blue water of the Tuvastan fjord.

Yaskan’s tunnel had led to a cave and a royal escape submersible, which had carried them safely out of Tuva one month ago. The journey had been quiet—him, Aurora, Maggie, and Khurrik all on edge. Though King Yaskan had promised they’d be safe under the water and that no troops would pursue them, he’d still been suspicious. The king, his father, was a stranger to him, after all.

Their relationship, if it could be called such a thing, was tense and perplexing. But the male cared for his mother, and his title ensured Rhaego had access to her in a way he might not have otherwise. She seemed surprisingly happy these days. Her flares were happening less than before, and when she spoke of arranging visits outside of Tuva, he almost believed her.

Aurora felt the change had less to do with Yaskan and more to do with her confession. And as she was in all things, Rhaego felt his mate was right.

The burden of carrying around such a secret for so long was unthinkable. It reminded him of what Vila had said. Clecanian females housed more pain than they showed. Perhaps no one was aware of just how much. The knowledge was no excuse for her actions then, now, or in the future, but it didn’t make her words untrue.

He was determined to find a way to help. The missions were still important. Rescuing humans and disrupting the Queen’s plans when they could was something they’d continue to do. But the purview of their work had expanded and grown more complicated.

Vila was aiming to open Earth. It was a goal universally wished for among Clecanians. But as the human queen of Vrulatica, Sophia, often said, the how mattered.

They needed to work together to fix the how without preventing Earth from being successfully reclassified. They’d need to plant someone close to Vila. Someone she’d trust.

The task felt impossible.

Reports indicated the Queen had set to gathering a team. One that would accompany her to meet the Intergalactic Alliance and argue their case. Perhaps they could infect her ranks that way. Humans were reportedly key to her plan, as their testimony would be paramount for her case. Diana was among that team.

His blood still curdled thinking of the duplicitous human.

Marsol was now dying.

Guilt struck whenever Rhaego thought of the trust Marsol had put in him and how he’d failed. He’d left Tuva with his own mate instead of retrieving Diana, and now Marsol’s mind was too far gone to live a normal life. They’d made the difficult decision to put him in stasis. It wouldn’t keep him alive, but perhaps it would slow his degeneration and ease his pain. Rhaego’s mouth dried. Marsol hadn’t been put under willingly.

Perhaps if they found someone to infiltrate the Queen’s circle, they could convince Diana to see reason. He didn’t think so, though. He peered at his mate as she dug through cabinets. If anyone could have softened her heart, it was his Aurora. If she hadn’t succeeded, he didn’t know who would.

She found what she was looking for and let out a little sound of triumph. Moving to the counter set below a large window, she fiddled with something. Harsh filtered red light shone through the tinted glass. It cast Aurora in dreary crimson.

She could never not be beautiful, but Rhaego didn’t like the severity of this place. Vrulatica didn’t suit either of them, though Aurora refused to admit it. The bare desert, harsh environment, and harsher people clashed with his mate’s softness and love of nature. She didn’t belong in dim bloody light. She belonged in the sun, among flowers and trees and bright blue sky.

One upside of the city he could see, though, was the lack of certain technologies. The kitchen of the small home the Vrulan king and queen had so generously provided was apparently closer to an Earth kitchen than the one in their Tuvastan den, and Aurora spent a good deal of time tinkering with recipes, often requesting his help, which never failed to make his chest puff importantly.

Rhaego watched her work, purr rumbling through his chest. She hummed while sprinkling a pinch of some fine powder over the item before her. Despite the disharmony he felt in the vertical city, he was happier than he’d ever been, and one of his favorite pastimes was gazing upon his mate as she lived her life.

Watching Aurora didn’t hit him like the shock of a lightning strike or the blow of a fist. When she was merely existing like this and he had the privilege of witnessing that existence, it was like sitting before a beautiful sea, watching the waves crash. Gazing into the hypnotic curl and snap of a fire. Listening to gentle rain on a misty fall day. It fed the soul.

Grinning, Aurora walked over holding a steaming bowl. His eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring. “Is that…”

“Yes,” she said, excitement lighting her face from within. “Sophia was able to find me some powdered fouthi concentrate from a trader down in the spice district.” Her grin flickered, and she peered into the bowl. “It won’t be exactly the same, but—”

Rhaego tugged her gently into his lap, pulling slower than he wanted to ensure the hot liquid didn’t slosh onto her hands. He buried his nose in her hair, purring at his scent lingering in the strands from every time she’d let him tend her pale waves. “Have you gone to this trouble for me, little doe?”

She shivered as he nuzzled her ear, then chuckled and hiked her shoulder, his purr tickling her. “Maybe,” she said. “There was only enough concentrate for a little, though.” She twisted to the side so she could face him.

He swept her hair away from her face, leisurely taking in her pretty features. She handed the bowl to him, and he took a small sip. “Mmm.”

“Is it good?” she asked, eyes wide. Apprehensive.

“Delicious, my love,” he purred.

She took a long sip, and her eyes slipped closed in bliss. When they opened again, she let out a little sigh. “Too bad he didn’t have more.”

Rhaego took the bowl from her and peered at the contents with narrowed eyes, making a show of it. “Have you set your magic upon me again?” he teased.

“It’s not a dog,” she giggled. “And no.”

One morning weeks ago they’d lain in bed after a long night of fevered lovemaking. They’d talked about their time in the den as he’d tenderly healed her sore spots. Blushing, she’d admitted that most, if not all, of the food she’d made for him had been laced with her love magic. Rhaego had needed no divine assistance to love Aurora, but it inflated his ego to learn she’d been so determined to win him.

He wrapped her hair around his fist, tugging her head to the side till he could dip his mouth to her neck. “Are you sure?” he purred while licking a path up her throat that made her tremble. “I feel quite bewitched. Your spell is in my veins even now, and it’s giving me such obscene thoughts.”

She chuckled and turned her head toward him, setting the brew on the table. Leaning in close, Aurora breathed against his lips, “I don’t need magic to do that.”

His grin broke a moment before she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him senseless.

Fever-stricken, Rhaego swept his mate into his arms and marched to their bed, thanking the Goddess for the mate he’d been given and praising himself for the love he’d earned.