Page 15

His brow ridge rises, and his lips flatten with irritation. “You won’t help your cousin if you collapse from hunger.”

I take the offered bag with a muttered thanks, peeling it open to find the trail rations the girls and I have nicknamed trail mix.

Really, it’s a mixture of dried dicro strips, seeds, and dried bilb berries.

The sweet purple berries grow nearly everywhere on Laedirissae and surprisingly taste like a mix of cherries and vanilla.

Vrok takes a seat on a nearby rock and uncorks the waterskin, taking a long drink before passing it to me without a word.

We settle into an easy rhythm, passing the rations and waterskin back and forth. The silence between us isn’t exactly comfortable, but it isn’t tense either. Like we’re both waiting to see who blinks first.

I nibble on a handful of berries, chewing slowly, but my gaze drifts back to him.

He’s leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, and his silver eyes are scanning the jungle. Even at rest, he’s so alert it makes my shoulders tense just watching him. And I wonder for the umpteenth time if he ever relaxes. Or hell, even smiles.

Every so often, his gaze flicks to me before skittering back to the trees. It’s as if he’s studying me like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to solve. When he finally speaks, his voice is a deep, gravelly rumble that breaks through the silence that has fallen over us.

“Why are you doing this?”

I blink, caught off guard by the question. “Doing what?”

He gestures to the jungle around us. “Coming out here and risking your life. Why?”

I hesitate. My fingers tighten around the waterskin. “Because I have to,” I say simply.

Because it’s the truth. There’s no way I could just sit idly by in that nice, safe village while Lily is out here, alone and scared. That’s not an option. It never was.

He frowns like that wasn’t the answer he expected. “No, you don’t. You could have stayed behind in the village.”

A bitter laugh slips out before I can stop it.

“Sure, I could have stayed, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did that.

” I shake my head before my eyes drop to the waterskin in my hands.

“Lily’s not just my cousin. She’s like my sister and best friend.

” I take a deep breath. “She’s the only family I have left. I love her.”

His eyes narrow on me with something that looks like suspicion or maybe disbelief. “Love,” he spits out the word like it’s a foreign concept he’s never heard of.

“Yes, love . You don’t leave someone you love behind. You don’t abandon them. Not if there’s the slightest chance of helping them.”

“You would risk your life for her?” His brow rises in question.

“Of course I would.” The answer slips out so easily it surprises even me. “And she’d do the same for me. That’s what love is. It’s not just pretty words and warm fuzzy feelings. It’s showing up. Over and over, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.”

Silence falls over us, and he studies me for a while, as if he’s trying to find some flaw in my words. Trying to poke holes in something he doesn’t quite understand. Finally, he swallows, and when he speaks his voice is so soft I have to strain to hear him.

“You humans feel so deeply.” He shakes his head like he’s not sure if that’s admirable or really dumb. Knowing Vrok, probably the latter.

I snort softly, a crooked smile tugging at my lips. “What, are you saying Laediriians don’t? Have you seen Haley and Draggar together?”

I hold my breath when his lips twitch as if he’s finally about to smile, but then he stops himself. “I didn’t say we don’t feel love. But…” His throat bobs as he swallows hard, and then his eyes drop to the ground. “Love wasn’t something that was spoken of when I was a kitling.”

His voice is so flat, it’s almost hollow, like it’s been scraped clean of any emotions.

And just like that, it clicks. He’s not tightly controlled and stoic because he’s a warrior.

No, it’s because he’s erected a giant shell around himself to lock down his emotions.

He’s probably had years of practice pretending nothing touches him.

God, that explains so much.

I sit there for a moment, frozen with indecision. My instincts are shouting that his father is probably a sore subject because of course, he is. I mean, dear old dad disappeared from the village, leaving him behind to take the fall by himself.

Finally, I clear my throat and decide to just take the plunge and ask. “Did your father show it? Even if he didn’t say it?”

Vrok looks up. Our eyes meet, and for a split second, I see the sadness flickering in his eyes like a candle.

Then he blinks, and it’s gone, like it never existed.

“Perhaps, in the beginning, when I was a very young kitling.” He exhales slowly.

His head tilts to the side, and his gaze turns distant, as if he’s looking into the past. “My father always wanted to be the best, have the best, but it was never enough for him. He hungered for more, and when he failed to reach his goals himself, he decided I would.”

I lean in a little bit. “What do you mean?”

A muscle in his jaw ticks. “He was one of the finest warriors in the village when he was younger. When the old chief died, he believed he deserved to be chosen as the new leader. But when Daggir was chosen instead, he was furious. He wanted to be more than just a warrior in the tribe. He wanted a title and power. So, he declared himself the tribe’s seer and claimed to have visions of the future—visions of me becoming chief one day. He said it was fate.”

“Did you want to become the chief?”

Vrok’s eyes snap back to me. “No,” he says firmly. “I only ever wanted to serve as a warrior. To protect my people. That has always been enough for me.”

A bitter edge creeps into his voice. Not toward me, but toward the memory that’s playing out in his head.

“But my father would not hear of it. He pushed and pushed, training me, shaping my life to fit his visions. He said it was all for the good of the tribe, but it wasn’t.

” His tone turns colder. “It was for him. His pride. His legacy.”

Fuck, that hits close to home. I know what it’s like to have a father who demanded I act a certain way, be a certain way. And when I fell short of his expectations—and I always did—he made sure I knew exactly how much of a failure I was.

“That sounds suffocating,” I say quietly.

“It was,” he admits. His voice is so quiet, now, it’s almost as if he’s speaking to himself instead of me.

“When I didn’t meet his expectations, the distance grew.

The training became harsher, more punishing.

He spoke of loyalty, not to the tribe, but to him .

I began to wonder if I was nothing more than a tool to him.

A means to fulfill his so-called visions. ”

My heart aches for him, for the little boy he used to be who just wanted to be enough for his father. Who just wanted to matter. I want to reach for him. I want to touch his arm, his shoulder, anything, and comfort him. But I don’t, because I sense that if I did, he wouldn’t appreciate it.

“You’re not a tool, Vrok. You never were. And real love doesn’t look like that. It’s not about controlling someone and shaping them into what you want them to be. It’s about accepting them as they are. Trusting them. Choosing them. Not because they fit a role, but because they matter.”

“You speak like someone who’s lived that,” he says.

I nod, swallowing hard as emotion tightens my chest. “I have.” My voice falters, but I push through.

“My grandparents raised me from the time I was eleven years old. It was the first time I felt like I was enough. Like I didn’t have to earn their care.

” I pause as the lump rises again in my throat.

“And my cousin, Lily, is the closest thing I’ve ever had to a sister.

We’ve always had each other’s backs, no matter what. ”

My hands tighten their grip in my lap. “She’s the reason I’m here, risking everything. That’s what love is. It’s putting someone else ahead of yourself. Even when it terrifies you.”

He doesn’t respond right away. His expression goes back to being unreadable, but this time, I don’t think it’s because he’s hiding.

I think it’s because he’s processing everything I’ve said.

Turning my words over slowly and cautiously.

Like they’re something he wants to believe but doesn’t quite know how.

Finally, in that quiet, growly voice of his, he murmurs, “Maybe I have more to learn from humans than I thought.”