Page 7

Echoes of celebration from the Victors’ Parade should have made Rhaego’s chest swell with pride, but he just felt dread. He’d already failed at the sliver of a plan he’d had. Getting to Diana would now be horrendously difficult. And on top of that, he’d hunted a terrified, unwilling human through the forest…and he’d liked it. And now something was wrong with her.

If he’d hurt her, he’d never be able to face his reflection again.

The cheers from the crowds above built and subsided like a crashing wave. He imagined each successful male puffing with pride as he marched through the street with his new bride on his arm. They’d never cheered so loudly for him.

This was the fourth time in Rhaego’s life he’d attended the parade as a triumphant bridegroom. None of his previous brides had been pleased about being caught by him. They’d been polite, but he’d sensed their disappointment. He didn’t blame them.

Since the ominous day of his birth, Rhaego had been deemed a blight . The label had started out as nothing more than an innocuous insult, gossip fodder for all the bored Tuvastans to whisper about over their morning brew.

Born under a fever-stricken Goddess? I’m surprised his cradle hasn’t burst into flames.

But as time had gone on, the taunt had evolved into something more pervasive. Unlucky occurrences throughout the city had started being blamed on Rhaego’s mere existence, no matter how ridiculous.

Did your son’s horns grow brittle? He must have brushed shoulders with the little blight.

Have the gweldings migrated early? No wonder. The blight swam near their nests only last week.

As a child, Rhaego had believed their words. It was only after he’d taken his first mercenary job from King Yaskan and left Tuva that he’d started questioning how much of the misfortune in his city was his fault and how much was coincidence.

Though he now understood how superstitious Tuvastans were compared to the majority of the planet, a part of him still reverted into the insecure, guilt-ridden buckling he’d once been whenever he returned home. The lonely boy who’d wandered through the halls of the Eyrie, constantly feeling as though he’d done something wrong, though he had no idea what.

He gazed down at the unconscious beauty in his arms, and old doubts squirmed to life inside him.

She’d just had a fright. It wasn’t his fault…

Rhaego clenched his jaw. Well, it wasn’t entirely his fault. If King Yaskan had shown her an ounce of compassion and properly prepared her for the chase, perhaps she wouldn’t have been so scared of him.

Don’t be a fool, his mind whispered. She would’ve always feared me. A deep ache gnawed behind his ribs. Every human he’d ever met had been terrified of him. And why shouldn’t they be? A male who couldn’t control his fever should be feared. The human whimpered in her sleep, her pale brows knitting.

Worry quickened his pace. If she’d merely fainted from fear, wouldn’t she have roused by now? He wasn’t versed enough in human physiology to know if this was normal. He took the steps of the stairway leading to the town square two at a time.

When he emerged into the parade, a hush descended. Rhaego worked to keep his expression blank while rushing down the spectator-lined celebratory aisle. The square was richly decorated for the occasion. Vibrant streaming banners and clouds of tossed flower petals surrounded him, but his presence seemed to dull all the cheerful colors.

The crowd blinked at him as he jogged past. Some applause bells still tinkled faintly, though they were no longer bobbing their heads to cheer. The dying sound was deafening to Rhaego’s ears.

Ignore them. Eyes forward. Horns high. Even as he tried to brush off the rush of shame at their reaction, he couldn’t say their shock was unfounded. What must he look like in their eyes? The blight, who many argued shouldn’t be allowed to participate in the chase at all, arriving to the parade toting an unconscious, blood-spattered human as his trophy.

He hated that they’d see this incident as further confirmation of their fears, but moreover, he hated how much their judgment hurt. Why did their approval still matter so much to him?

Etiquette spurred the audience out of their temporary shock. They began to applaud politely. He wished they wouldn’t. The sound made him flush all the way to his horns. At least silence would more closely reflect the truth of their feelings.

He reached the end of the parade where new couples and event officials were located and called one of the stationed medics over. Three rushed forward.

“How was she injured?” The ancient head medic, Evu, asked while the other two scanned her with diagnostic wands. His tone held no hint of contempt or accusation, and Rhaego was thankful for it.

“I didn’t see her sustain any injury that would cause this.”

Another medic, closer to Rhaego in age, slipped him a withering glance while gliding the wand over a particularly bloody patch on her dress, and he stiffened.

Injuries weren’t uncommon during the chase. Males often needed treatment after all the fighting that took place. However, injuries to females, aside from the expected bumps and bruises sustained when a bride was caught, were exceedingly rare.

In the case a female was severely injured at the hands of a pursuing male, it was common knowledge that she would not accept him into her bed out of pure principle. If a male didn’t have the finesse or training to catch a female without harming her, they were unworthy. That’s what everyone believed of Rhaego now.

It was a blow to his pride, to say the least, even if it was untrue. Rhaego would sooner set his horns on fire than harm her. He was an expert with his snare. Even as fever-stricken as he was, he’d known when and where to throw it to trap her without causing lasting harm. There’d been no rocks or tree stumps she could have hit her head on, and he’d found no sign of previous injury when he’d inspected her. She’d fallen onto her belly—unfortunate, but nothing to cause serious injury.

Concern built like an electric current under his skin as the medics examined the human but relayed nothing to him.

I don’t even know her name.

Perhaps she had a medical condition that’d been overlooked. Knowing what the humans’ treatment had been like so far, he wouldn’t put it past her assigned guardians.

“What the fuck did you do to her?” someone shrieked.

Rhaego froze. No self-respecting Tuvastan would yell like that. He forced himself to look behind him, already knowing what he’d find.

One of the other humans—not Diana—was struggling to break away from the male holding her. Orange hair rumpled and eyes wild, she glared in horror at Rhaego and his bride. Shame burned under his skin. Months spent working tirelessly to help the humans, and yet she looked at him like he was a monster.

Rhaego spun away. In this case, she was right. Though his intentions for joining the chase had been noble, ultimately his actions hadn’t been.

The even-tempered medic held an examination wand over his bride’s head and squinted at his screen’s read-out. “Altitude poisoning,” he announced. “We need to transport her to a medical pod.”

Altitude poisoning? He held the human against him a little more tightly, sympathy swelling in his chest. Tuva was nestled in the Bermore Mountain Range and was indeed located at a high elevation. Though altitude sickness could happen to any visitors not used to the environment, Tuva had acclimatization policies in place for this very reason.

“Was she not acclimated properly?” Rhaego tried to hold back his growl as he asked, but a hint of rasp leaked through.

Evu met his eyes. “It seems not.”

Fever crackled to life in Rhaego. He wanted to rip his king apart. This kind of treatment should’ve been unacceptable for any visitor, but for females?

“What is the source of this blood?” The younger medic challenged, pulling her dress taut to display the dark red stains.

Rhaego lifted her in his arms until the puncture to his stomach was visible. “I took a horn before I caught her. It didn’t hit anything vital.”

Evu crouched under the human to examine Rhaego’s wound. “Not too bad,” he muttered. “I’ll inject a knitting accelerant, and you’ll be good as new in a few hours. You can come back to heal the scarring another time if its appearance bothers you or your bride.” He straightened and tipped his double-spiraled horns toward the younger medic. “Hand her to Buhmek . She’ll be fine once she’s properly acclimatized.”

His insides rebelled, and his grip tightened. “ I’ll take her,” Rhaego stated. To death with politeness, he would loom and intimidate every medic who looked in her direction to see that she received superior care. Especially this Buhmek. Rhaego hadn’t missed the faint twist of his lips when the male looked at his bride’s face. His distaste for outsiders was clear, though it seemed secondary to his distaste for Rhaego.

“You need to join the other males,” Buhmek argued.

Rhaego frowned. “I’ll have time after.”

“Setting up a home is difficult. If I were you, I’d spare no expense to ensure my den was excessively extravagant.” His eyes flicked to the blood on her dress again, and he added, “You wouldn’t want to further disappoint her, would you?”

An angry whip of fire lashed his insides. “How many times have you been married to give such well-placed advice?” Rhaego said with an impolite fanged smile.

An answering glow of red lit Buhmek’s eyes. “You—”

“I see you succeeded in catching a human.” King Yaskan sauntered toward them, dressed in layers of luxurious, thick fabric despite the early summer heat.

“Yes, sire.” Rhaego tipped his head back respectfully, as did Buhmek, who’d snapped his jaw shut before spewing whatever vile thing he’d had ready.

Evu also tipped his horns in greeting before returning to load a medical injector with Rhaego’s accelerant.

“Your mother will be pleased.” The king examined the blonde human. “And is she well?”

“No, sire,” Buhmek blurted. “I’d like to take her to be healed, but it seems the bl— he would prefer she suffer.”

Rhaego’s head snapped toward the male with a snarl. “She is my bride, and she’s received substandard treatment from your ilk, so now I will see her healed.”

“There’s no need for this unpleasantness,” the king drawled. “Hand her over, lad. I’d like to speak with you privately. Evu will take care of her.”

Rhaego didn’t move. He couldn’t disobey a direct command from his monarch, yet his fingers refused to loosen.

“My king, I can confirm whoever tended to her before failed in their duties. They’ll be disciplined accordingly.” Evu focused on Rhaego, holding eye contact. “But I assure you no such carelessness will occur under my watch.”

“Very good.” The king nodded.

Buhmek held out his arms, a satisfied smirk playing across his lips. Rhaego hesitated, eyeing Evu. The old medic seemed sincere, but the idea of letting her out of his sight was distressing. After a tense moment, Rhaego transferred her into Buhmek’s arms.

Without asking permission, Evu lifted the corner of Rhaego’s shirt, injected the medication near his wound, and sprayed disinfectant foam over the puncture. Still grunting from the surprising sting, he missed the chance to take a last look at the human’s face before Buhmek had rushed her into the Tuvastan grand pavilion. He stared at the painted door they’d disappeared behind, though it was disrespectful not to give his full attention to the king.

“Walk with me.” King Yaskan didn’t wait for Rhaego to agree. It hadn’t really been a request anyway.

Trying not to let his boots drag, Rhaego followed.

“Congratulations on your fine catch,” King Yaskan commented.

They were moving farther away from the crowd, and Rhaego’s attention sharpened. He’d been distracted before, but he suddenly noticed how peculiar this was. The king rarely attended these events, and never did he pull triumphant bridegrooms aside to congratulate them. He only ever appeared long enough to show his horns before returning to the castle. What did he want?

“Thank you,” Rhaego said slowly.

The king didn’t speak again for a moment, but from the flitting of his eyes and stiffness of his jaw, Rhaego felt he was considering his next words carefully. They reached the edge of the square, now empty of parade-goers, and the king faced him.

“I visited your mother last night.” He said this offhandedly. As if the fact was merely a topic for conversation, much like the weather, but Rhaego knew better.

“That was kind of you. I’m sure she enjoyed seeing you.” In all honesty, Rhaego had no idea how his mother felt about a visit from King Yaskan.

She often spoke about the king as if she found his infatuation silly, but Rhaego wondered whether their history was more complicated than she admitted and whether she enjoyed the king’s attention more than she let on. Yesterday morning she’d been in no mood for company, but perhaps her temper had changed with the day.

“Indeed.” Another confusing beat of silence pulsed before the king added, “I was surprised to find she didn’t seem very fascinated by the humans.”

Rhaego tensed.

The king studied him. “Based on our conversation, I had expected her to be excited about the prospect of you recognizing a mate. But she was more…doubtful.”

Fuck. He’d lied to gain late permission to enter the bouts, and the king had caught on.

“You know my mother…” Rhaego kept his tone casual. “The spiral of her horns changes with the wind, as they say.”

The pompous aura that always shrouded Yaskan faded, and Rhaego glimpsed the shrewd male beneath. He wasn’t trying to ascertain if Rhaego had lied. It was clear he already knew, but he was still weighing something .

If the king thought he’d lied because he was a greedy, fever-blooded male, it could make Rhaego’s mission more difficult, though not impossible. But if the king learned of his real intentions for the humans…

Foreboding slithered over his skin. Though he kept his demeanor unchanged, inside he grew cold and calculating, mentally running through exit strategies. They were all, unfortunately, bloody.

He’d made his job twenty times harder by not catching Diana. Again, he cursed himself for letting his fever carry him away.

“Perhaps she’s managing expectations. Tempering her excitement.” The king commented quietly. He then donned a smile that set Rhaego’s fangs on edge. “In any case, you’re married now. And to a human. Your mother, along with the whole of Tuva, will rejoice if your marks appear.” The king released a meaningful breath. “To be the monarch who returned matehood to our people? Even if these aliens have proved rather crude beings.” Yaskan’s gaze bore into him.

He wants me to agree. Rhaego swallowed his disgust. “Crude, but capable of evolving. I’ve seen it, sire.”

The king’s mouth lifted ever so slightly. “Let’s just hope no other misfortune befalls her, eh?” He slapped Rhaego on the shoulder. Was he being sincere, or was it a dig at his blightedness? Or a joke concerning his blightedness? He tried to recall if King Yaskan was known to be a superstitious male.

“I’ll keep her safe and well,” he assured.

“You are your mother’s son. The humans are important to Tuva.” The king’s focus hardened, his aura of authority powerful enough to make even Rhaego squirm. “And I know you’ll do what’s best for Tuva.”

Unease skittered across his scalp. Did that sound as ominous as it felt? It was hard to judge.

The king was an odd male. Rhaego had never quite known where he stood with him. The affection the king had for his mother had ensured he’d always experienced a small level of preferential treatment.

The king granted him high-paying jobs though he was not as experienced a mercenary as others. He’d kept his citizenship in good standing though he lived in Tuva very little. And he allowed him late entry into the bouts. But his favor was always granted with a dose of bitterness.

“I will,” Rhaego lied.

King Yaskan considered him silently before finally smiling. “Then I pray the Goddess bless your marriage.” The king nodded toward the cluster of bridegrooms waiting for their den assignments. “Best be off to congratulate the others who captured humans. Good luck with your home preparations.”

“Thank you, sire.” He tipped his head back and held it for a beat.

As he watched the king stride away and pull another male aside just as he had Rhaego, he tried to calm his nerves. Disquiet lingered.

The king merely seemed to be giving attention to those who’d claimed humans as their brides since this was a tender and unique situation for Tuva. But regardless of motive, there would be more scrutiny on Rhaego and his bride than normal, and he needed to remain vigilant. He couldn’t fail as Marsol had by planning a messy escape.

This mission needed caution and careful planning. He’d have to speak with Diana through his bride since he could not speak to her directly, which meant he’d first need to earn the trust and cooperation of an enchanting female that warmed his horns and made his mind go soggy.

Surely his attraction wouldn’t be distracting enough to hinder his escape planning. His attention drifted toward the grand pavilion. He imagined being alone with her in a small, isolated den far from the prying eyes of Tuva. His fever stirred, confidence wavering.

What had he gotten himself into?