Page 26 of Kael (Monsters & Mates #2)

CHAPTER

ELEVEN

I’ve tucked myself in the far corner, away from the noise, away from the questions I don’t want to answer.

I’m hunched over my tray, idly picking at my food.

It’s decent, thanks to Decca and Molsi—my favourite snarky kitchen duo—but my appetite’s halfway to hell, and I don’t have it in me to track it down.

I promised them I’d catch up properly soon. Just not today.

Today, I want time to sprint by so I can see Kael. Which… yeah. I’ve officially become that guy. The needy one. The one who stares at doors like a forlorn puppy and makes up imaginary scenarios where his stoic maybe-boyfriend sweeps in dramatically.

Tragic.

I sigh and scrape the last of my food into my mouth, chewing without tasting. I’m about to take my tray up when a voice pipes up behind me.

“Sonny?”

I turn to see Jack approaching, his Akubra still somehow pristine, like it’s immune to the grime of Terrafeara.

He’s got Solan with him—still a walking tank of calm menace—and trailing beside them is the kid I saw a few days ago, with a mop of sandy-brown hair and a grin that’s way too wide for this cursed world.

My heart does a weird lurch.

“You must be Jamie,” I say, nodding to the kid.

“Yep!” he chirps. “You’re the guy who went off with the Glowranth guard to find the human doctor, right?”

“That’s me,” I say, a little startled. “News travels fast.”

“People talk,” Jamie says, shrugging like a mini adult. “Also, everyone’s been on edge about the prince being here. My uncle won’t shut up about it.”

Jack rolls his eyes. “You love it, don’t lie.”

Jamie just grins wider. “Only a bit.”

Next to him is someone I haven’t met yet, but I clock them instantly as the fourth member of their small group. Calythra.

The kid gestures to him. “This is Caly. He’s my other best friend.”

Caly nods at me, ethereal as all hell. His skin’s so pale, it makes paper jealous, and his eyes—big and bright blue—don’t seem to blink nearly enough. “Sonny, g’day, nice to meet ya,” he says, and—what the hell—it’s in a perfect Aussie accent.

I blink. “Wait. Did you just?—”

“Yep,” Jamie says, trying (and failing) to whisper. “He can mimic voices. Accents. Sometimes even languages if he hears enough.”

Caly smirks. “Crikey, mate. You all right?” he says, now full Steve Irwin.

I choke on my laugh. “You’re terrifying.”

“Flattering,” he replies.

Jack laughs, then jerks his head towards the exit. “Wanna take a walk? Got something I want to ask you about. Been thinking on it since you left.”

I eye him. “Sure.” I glance at Jamie and Caly. “You two good?”

“Going to get food,” Jamie says. “Caly says the tentacle pie’s decent today.”

“Good luck with that.” I dump my tray and follow Jack and Solan out of the canteen, the din behind us fading into the background.

Away from the bodies and chatter, the air’s cooler, clearer. It’s good to breathe, even if the tension’s already coiling in my chest. Jack’s quiet for a beat, Solan a few steps behind us, his presence a constant thrum of protection.

People step aside when they see him. Not just because he’s a Pyronox—built like a stone wall and just as expressive—but because this Pyronox used to be an enforcer. One of the queen’s.

The gossip’s out. No one dares say anything directly, but I’ve heard the whispers. Still, I get it. He did what he had to do to survive. Hell, who here hasn’t?

After a moment, Jack breaks the silence. “What you said before you left—it stuck with me.”

I glance at him sideways. “You mean the rift stuff?”

He nods. “The idea that Dawson came through wrong. Through the Earth.”

“Following the same course as you,” I say, remembering the mental line I’d drawn through the planet.

“Yeah,” Jack says. “But what if it wasn’t an accident?”

That gets my full attention. I stop walking. It’s very similar to what he said just before I left a few days ago.

He faces me. “I know it sounds nuts, but what if someone’s interfering with the rifts? Guiding them. Controlling them.”

A chill races up my spine. Not from the air. From something colder. Deeper.

“You said it,” he goes on. “No two people have ever come through at the same time in different places. Not until me and Dawson. That can’t be some sort of natural phenomenon.”

“Do you really think someone brought you both here?” I ask quietly. “All of us here?”

“I think someone—or something—wants people here. Specific people. And not just human people either.”

I exhale slowly, thinking about all the different species that make up the Riftborn. “And why would they want a twelve-year-old?” I ask, my mind immediately going to Jamie.

Jack glances back towards the canteen, towards his nephew. His face softens. “I don’t know. But I’ll protect him with everything I have.”

“You’re not alone in that,” I say. Instinct guides me, as well as the need to protect an innocent. I’m barely cut out for this dimension, so a preteen will need all the help they can get.

He looks at me. “That’s why I came to you.”

We walk in silence for a few more moments. My mind is already racing with possibilities. If someone’s pulling the strings on the rifts—well, we’re in deeper shit than we thought.

“Have you spoken to Varek?” I ask.

Jack shakes his head. “I know you said we can trust him.”

“You can,” I say immediately. There’s not a sliver of hesitation. “Without question—it’s something I believe. Trusting Varek has kept me alive.”

Behind us, Solan finally speaks, his deep voice cutting through the hush of evening like a warm blade. “We believe you. But there are others here who don’t. The Riftborn factions… they’re uneasy.”

“More than uneasy,” Jack adds. “A few of them flat-out don’t like the way Varek’s running things.”

“No shit,” I mutter, rolling my eyes and immediately picturing Zeyv’s smug face and his merry band of dickheads. I thumb towards the training compound. “That lot? They’d rather take the ‘stab first, question never’ approach.”

Solan’s lips twitch, and Jack raises an eyebrow.

“It’s not really about Varek himself,” I explain. “He’s strong. Ruthless when he has to be—believe me, I’ve seen it—but he’s also diplomatic. He listens. He weighs consequences. That freaks some people out. Especially the species who are used to power being all about domination.”

“So, they see his negotiation as weakness,” Solan says.

“Exactly.”

Jack frowns, nodding slowly. “That’s… dangerous.”

“You’re not wrong.” I sigh, glancing towards the main camp, where the glow of lights bounces off the cavelike walls. “There’s a growing group who think we should just declare war. No more negotiation. No more discussion. Just… burn it all to the ground.”

“Including the queen,” Jack says.

“Including every Glowranth,” I say quietly, and the thought leaves me cold. My stomach knots tight thinking of Kael. Of his quiet voice. His steady hands. His kisses.

“I’m sure you’ve seen the others,” I add. “Apart from Kael and Prince Aelith, there are a few Glowranth who’ve joined us over time. Quietly. Carefully.”

Jack nods. “We’ve seen them. They don’t get treated well.”

“Nope,” I say, mouth twisting. “And I’ve done jack shit to prevent that.” I shake my head, annoyed at myself. “I need to do better. I will do better.”

Solan studies me for a beat, then says, “Tomorrow. Come with us. When we speak with Varek.”

“I’ll set it up,” I promise. It’s the right thing to do. “He won’t ask what it’s about. I’ll make sure of it.”

They nod, and we pause at the junction where the canteen glows in the distance. Jamie’s still in there, probably talking Caly’s head off about dragons or space or the way food here jiggles without warning. Or maybe I’m projecting the sorts of things I was into when I was a preteen.

“Go get food,” I say with a small smile. “I’ll catch Varek now.”

We part ways, and I head towards Varek’s quarters, slipping through the quieter back path where fewer people linger. I pass one of Zeyv’s loyal followers—a thin, long-limbed dickwad with perpetually greasy hair and something unpleasant always smeared on his clothes.

He sneers at me.

I offer him the most mature, diplomatic response I can muster.

Middle finger up, baby.

He snarls but keeps walking. Wise move.

I shake my head, thoughts already spiralling back to Jack’s theory. The implications. It’s not even about Riftborn equality anymore. Not just about that. If someone’s playing puppet master with the rifts—choosing who ends up in Terrafeara—that changes everything.

How long have they been doing it? Why me? Why Dawson? Why Jack? Why a twelve-year-old boy? The questions feel heavier with every step I take.

And then Kael.

I’ve thought about telling him. Hell, I almost did when we were travelling to find Iris. But I hesitated. Now, though… things are different.

He’s my mate.

He would tell me if he knew anything… wouldn’t he?

Sleep keeps dragging me under. Each time I blink, it feels harder to open my eyes. I’m in bed, the covers tangled around my legs, the pillow soft beneath my cheek, and still I try to stay awake. Kael said he’d be here. He promised.

But the night’s grown heavy, stretching on and on, and there’s still no sign of him.

My chest aches. Not just with disappointment but with something sharp, something that feels dangerously close to heartbreak. I roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling. I want to believe he’ll come. I need to believe it.

And then—a knock.

I jolt upright. It’s soft, hesitant. But it’s him. I know it’s him.

I’m at the door in seconds, fingers fumbling with the lock. When I pull it open, Kael stands there like a shadow, all towering height and luminous eyes, his markings dim and his expression carved with exhaustion.

He looks wrecked, but he’s here.

Still, I don’t throw myself at him. I step aside, gentle. “Come in.”

He hesitates, just for a breath, then steps inside. I close the door and turn, already reaching for him. “What’s wrong?”

His jaw clenches. “It’s Aelith. He won’t stop giving to Dawson.”

Giving. My stomach tightens. “You mean…?”