Page 25

Maya let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, the tension easing from her.

Relief flickered through her, quiet but undeniable, followed almost immediately by a new uncertainty pressing in its place.

She forced herself to remember that dusk cycle wasn’t an ending. It was just a new beginning.

Whatever decision the Council made next, it would change everything—for her, for Riv’En, and for whatever waited in the shadows outside their orbit.

QUIET FILLED the conference deck when they returned for dusk cycle. Maya stood beside Riv’En, her robe a steady, unmistakable gold now. There was no flicker of fear anymore, only that steady awareness of him at herside.

The ambient lighting had shifted again, deep silver layered with pale gold, reflective of Elaroin formal gatherings, according to Riv’En.

They were alone for the moment. The Council had not yet arrived.

Riv’En’s hand settled at her waist, fingers spreading lightly against her robe. His touch wasn’t rushed, but grounding.

“Is this really happening?” Maya asked quietly, her voice just above a whisper.

“It is,” he said. “And you are not leaving my side.”

Her breath caught, not from nerves this time, but from the quiet pull of him. The heat of his body against hers. The unspoken tension betweenthem.

Her hands rose to his chest, his quiet strength clear beneath the fabric. For a long moment, neither of them moved.

“We should not,” he murmured.

“I know,” she said.

But she didn’t pull back either.

Instead, her fingers slid along the edge of his collar, finding the seam of his robe where fabric met skin. Her pulse had steadied into something deeper now. Like gravity had shifted towardhim.

Riv’En’s hands tightened slightly, pulling her a fraction closer. His voice dropped, raw silk and heat in her ear. “However, we are alone.”

“We are,” Maya agreed. Her voice sounded steadier than it should have, like her body had already made the decision her mind was still catching upto.

Riv’En shifted first. His mouth brushed against hers, not a full kiss, just the barest drag of contact—testing, waiting for her to pull away. She didn’t. When she leaned in, it broke whatever restraint was left betweenthem.

His hands cupped her face, angling her head as his mouth claimed hers completely now. No rush, no hesitation. The kiss deepened until it swept down her spine, to her toes, until there was nothing but the press of him, the low growl in his throat, and the way his robe shifted againsther.

Her fingers slid beneath the fabric, finding bare skin, the smooth line of muscle.

His temperature ran hotter than hers, steady and constant, like something elemental.

His hands traced down her back, one palm splaying flat between her shoulder blades as he guided her back a step, pressing her lightly against the cool, curvedwall.

Maya’s robe shimmered faintly, gold deepening toward amber, like heat against her skin, areflection of everything betweenthem.

Riv’En broke the kiss for a breath, eyes sharp and black as they searched hers. “Say if you want me to stop,” he murmured.

“No,” she said immediately. Her voice was hoarse, stripped bare. “Do not stop.”

He did not. His mouth found her neck, the line of her jaw, while his hands moved with expert patience—unfastening just enough of her robe to slide his hand beneath the fabric, his palms warm and steady against bare skin.

He did not rush. Every motion was intentional, the fabric still in place but parted enough to let him touchher.

Her hands mirrored his, working the fastenings free, fingers tangling briefly before the fabric gave way and she swept her palms across his bareskin.

Their bodies pressed together, the heat of it sharp and blinding. Maya’s breath hitched as Riv’En’s hands slid over her, lifting her slightly so her legs framed his. There was no urgency in it. Only quiet, aching certainty.

Her head fell back against the wall, eyes closing as his mouth followed the curve of her collarbone, down to the center of her chest. Ashudder rolled through him just as it didher.

A sharp chime sounded, cutting through the stillness like a thread pulled taut. Riv’En froze first, his hands steadying her as his head turned toward the sound.

“Council arrival,” he said quietly, already pulling her robe closed. His hands moved calmly, straightening the fabric before adjusting his own. Maya matched his movements in quiet reflex, running her hands down the front of his robe, grounding herself in the simpleact.

By the time the soft hiss of the door opening followed, they were standing side by side again—close, but composed. The only evidence of what had passed between them lived in the faint heat still pulsing beneath her skin and the shimmering gold of their robes.

Vaeyra and her attendants entered the room. The formality returned instantly, like a curtain dropping back into place.

Vaeyra’s silver gaze swept over them, noting their closeness with no outward reaction. She moved to her marked position at the central table.

“The Council has reached its preliminary decision,” Vaeyra announced.

“Riv’En, you are granted access to family lineage archives for the sole purpose of verifying your maternal line and formal sanctuary rights.

Maya Anderson is required to submit to full compatibility and integrity scans as a bonded mate. ”

Riv’En tensed subtly beside her, his whole body tightening, though his voice remained level. It wasn’t a visible shift, not something anyone else would notice. But the faint brush of his arm against hers suggested a contained reaction as exacting as everything else hedid.

“The scans must include survivability markers,” he said. “You will test her in relation to Final Flight risk.”

Vaeyra inclined her head. “That has been noted and approved.”

Maya exhaled slowly, steadying herself. The terms had been laid out clearly now.

Formal archive access for Riv’En, full scans for her, observation protocols.

It wasn’t just a formality. It was a test. And not one she could afford to fail.

For all the quiet steadiness of her robe’s color now, gold and warm against her skin, there was no ignoring what had been agreed to.

Her pulse steadied because it had to. Because showing fear here would only make it worse.

The Emissary continued. “You will submit any personal weapons beyond defense class. And for the duration of your stay, both of you will be subject to observation protocols.”

Riv’En nodded once. “Understood.” He turned his gaze fully toward Vaeyra now, his expression as unreadable as ever. “Regarding the vessel that shadowed us before orbit entry. What action does the Council require?”

Vaeyra’s pale gaze flicked between them. “We detected its signature as well. It has not yet breached Elaroin orbit, but it lingers within outer perimeter range. You will provide all scan data and identification markers.”

“And if it attempts entry?” Riv’En asked, his voice quieter, sharper.

“Then it will be eliminated,” Vaeyra said without hesitation. “You will assist our patrol units in identifying it if necessary. If there are allies aboard that you wish protected, state them now.”

“There are none,” Riv’En replied.

A subtle chill ran through Maya. His absolute certainty settled like a stone in her chest. Part of her wanted to be reassured by it.

Another part wondered what it truly meant to be so cut off from everyone else, to have no one else but each other.

That reality pressed against her ribs, undeniable and sharp.

The tension in the room rose and eased into something quieter, like a tide pulling back after a wave.

The silence wasn’t critical anymore. It was expectant.

Her fingers brushed lightly against the seam of her robe, fortifying herself in the steady warmth of the fabric.

The simple motion helped her breathe. Around them, everything held perfectly still, waiting not with pressure, but with patience.

Her pulse slowed into something steady and calm, as if her body finally caught up to what her mind already knew: they belonged here,now.

Vaeyra’s gaze shifted once more between them. “We will reconvene once scans are complete and Council review is finalized.”

The words carried finality, but to Maya they raised more questions.

How long would that take? Hours? Days? And until then, what exactly did observation protocols mean?

Quiet guards outside their door, or silent watchers hidden in every surface?

And what about Riv’En’s heat flashes? Would they be able to protect him from Final Flight?

Just the thought alone had her bursting into speech. “Wait,” Maya said, her voice sharper than she intended. “The scans—do they include testing for Final Flight? Can it be stopped? Cured?” Her words hung in the air, frantic and urgent.

Vaeyra turned back toward her, pale eyes narrowing slightly as if considering not just the question, but Maya herself. “We will determine what is possible,” she said at last, her voice steady, but offering no easy promises.

Maya hesitated, her mind still circling the question of Final Flight, what had just been agreed to pressing hard against her ribs. Her thoughts tangled between fear and the steady gold of her robe. As Vaeyra turned to leave, Maya’s pulse spiked one last time, words caught behind her teeth.

But she held them back. There were no more questions to ask, not here. Only things to prove.

As the door closed behind the Council, Maya turned to Riv’En, her voice quiet but steady now. “Will they ever really accept me?”

Riv’En inclined his head slightly, the faintest curve of something dark and certain in his mouth. “That is not what matters,” he said quietly. “I have accepted you.”