Niam

NIAM

T he delicate purple blooms nestled in my hand, their petals brushing softly against my palm. Such an unexpected gesture from a warrior prince. A man who brought down a monster with his bare hands now offered me wildflowers like a village boy courting his sweetheart. “You surprise me.” I lifted the flowers to my nose, breathed in their sweet scent.

“Good surprises, I hope.”

The sleeve of his hunting jacket pulled back as he pushed his hair from his face. Dark stains marred the fabric - blood he’d tried to hide. My chest constricted.

“You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing.”

“That beast got you.”

“I got it first.” His lips curved up, pride and something darker in his expression. “No one will threaten you while I draw breath.”

That possessive note in his voice should have frightened me. Instead, heat bloomed low in my belly. Mahra’s words from earlier drifted back: “The Valti know their mates on sight. Their beasts recognize what their minds might deny.”

I shook my head, trying to clear it. Mates? Me? I was broken, used, my mind and body violated by the Temple’s integration. The metal ports in my skull might be gone, but the scars remained. How could I be anyone’s mate, let alone a Shakai prince’s?

And it didn’t matter.

The Temple still stood. Women still died in its chambers, their bodies and minds consumed by the ship’s endless hunger. I had to end it. That was my only purpose now.

A shout cut through my musings. “Prince Tharon! We need your tracking skills!”

Tharon’s jaw tightened, but he stepped back from me. His fingers brushed mine as he took one of the flowers, tucking it into a fold of my shirt with surprising gentleness. Then he strode toward the hunters, his broad shoulders tense with irritation at the interruption.

Mahra approached with a leather pouch in her hands. The fading sunlight caught on crystal shards woven into intricate patterns across its surface.

“For your device,” she said, pressing it into my hands. “My grandmother would have sworn that the crystals will keep it safe.” She grinned. “Even if that’s nonsense, they’re pretty enough.”

The leather warmed under my fingers, butter-soft and supple. Such care in the craftsmanship, each crystal precisely placed.

“Thank you.” I slipped my device inside, relieved to have somewhere safer than my robe to keep it.

Women moved through the camp, carrying bundles. One stopped to give me a small stack of clothes for both myself and Tharon - practical things in soft leather and wool. Another brought healing supplies - bandages, salves, dried herbs.

The generosity staggered me. In the Temple, there was never enough. Here, they gave freely.

My throat tightened as I accepted each gift. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say nothing.” Mahra squeezed my shoulder. “We take care of our own.”

But I wasn’t one of them. I was human, an outsider.

Across the fire, Tharon spoke with a group of hunters, his bearing regal despite his torn clothes. A child ran up to show him a carved wooden toy. He crouched down, examining it with exaggerated interest, praising the clumsy craftsmanship.

“He’ll make a good father someday,” Mahra murmured.

My chest ached. I looked away from the domestic scene, focusing on my bundles instead. I couldn’t afford these feelings, this yearning for something I could never have.

But watching him move through his people, switching effortlessly between stern prince and gentle protector, made it harder to remember that.

Later, the sun slipped behind the mountains, painting the sky in deep purples that reminded me of Tharon’s flowers. After sharing another meal around the fires, Mahra led me back to her tent and I looked around more closely.

The interior glowed with the warm light of oil lamps, casting dancing shadows on the woven tapestries that lined the walls. Thick rugs covered the ground, their intricate patterns telling stories I couldn’t read. The air held the spicy scent of night-blooming flowers and herbs hung to dry from the tent poles.

The furs tickled my nose, too soft, too clean. Mahra’s steady snores filled the tent, a counterpoint to Tharon’s footsteps outside. Back and forth, back and forth, like a caged predator.

I rolled onto my back, stared at the tent’s peaked ceiling. Sleep danced away from my grasp. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Laren’s face, the way she’d looked at me before she ran back into the Temple. Back to her captors. Back to the mindlessness inflicted by the Tomb.

I touched the scars at the base of my skull. The priests had put the first port in when I turned eight. By twelve, I’d served as their living conduit to the Temple's machinery. They’d praised my connection, my ability to interface. None of them noticed when I accessed the ancient databanks, learned about the Shakai from the original surveys of this world.

What good had that knowledge done? I hadn’t saved Laren. Hadn’t saved anyone.

Tharon’s steps paused. My breath caught.

“Rest,” he murmured through the tent wall. “I’ll keep watch.”

My face burned. Of course, he knew I lay awake.

There was so much I didn’t understand about this man.

Like the way he brought me flowers. A prince, a warrior, stopping to pick purple blooms because... because what? Because he thought I’d like them? Because his beast demanded he court me?

The leather pouch pressed against my hip, device safely nestled inside. I should focus on that, on my mission. Not on the way Tharon’s fingers had brushed mine, not on the heat in his gaze when he thought I didn’t see.

His boots crunched on pebbles - three steps right, stop, pivot, three steps left.

Guard duty. Protection. That’s all this was.

But I remembered his words. “ No one will threaten you while I draw breath .”

The Temple had taught me not to trust, not to need. Every girl who relied on another found herself betrayed. The priests made sure of that. Better to stand alone than risk attachment.

Yet here I lay, surrounded by Shakai hospitality, letting a Valti prince stand guard while I rested in furs that smelled of spices and smoke.

My chest squeezed. I couldn’t afford this weakness.

Tharon’s shadow passed across the tent wall. My skin prickled, aware of his proximity even through the barrier between us.

I pressed my face into the furs and prayed for sleep.

The camp stirred to life around me as I emerged from Mahra’s tent, my borrowed sleeping clothes replaced by practical travel gear. The air held the crisp bite of morning, promising another clear day ahead.

A villart, smaller than the bagart we’d lost in the rockslide, waited near the central fire, already saddled and laden with supplies. The creature turned its scaled head toward me, flicking a forked tongue to taste the air.

“A parting gift,” Mahra said, appearing at my shoulder.

From her pack, she drew out a length of fabric that caught the morning light. The silk rippled between deep blue and green, like sunlight through water. Tiny crystals studded the edges in an intricate pattern that matched the leather pouch she’d given me last night.

“For hiding those Temple-marked places,” she said, fingers brushing near the scars at my neck. “And for keeping you safe on the road ahead.”

The fabric slid coolly across me as she draped it over my head. Her weathered hands moved with practiced grace, tucking and folding until the scarf framed my face perfectly. The weight settled like a gentle embrace. “There.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pin. Precious stones winked in a spiral pattern, their colors echoing the silk. “This belonged to my daughter.”

My throat tightened. “Mahra, I can’t-”

“I insist.” She secured the scarf with swift, sure movements. “She would have wanted someone to use it, not let it gather dust in my tent.”

The pin’s weight anchored the silk, keeping it from slipping. I touched it gently, afraid to disturb Mahra’s careful arrangement. The metal held the warmth of her hands.

“Thank you.” The words came out rougher than I intended.

She adjusted one final fold, then stepped back to examine her work. “Now you look like a proper Shakai woman. Keep your head down in the towns, and no one will look twice.”

I caught my reflection in a polished copper pot. The silk transformed me, softening my too-sharp features, hiding the stark evidence of the Temple’s violation. With my face partially concealed, I could almost pass for one of them. Almost belong.

The pin glinted in the sunlight, its spiral pattern drawing the eye away from the oddness of my human features. Mahra’s daughter must have been beautiful, wearing this. I wondered what happened to her, but didn’t dare ask.

Mahra’s weathered hands closed over mine. “If it bothers you, consider it an investment. Next time I face your Valti prince across the trading tables, he’ll remember the debt.”

“He’s not my-”

“Sure, sure.” She squeezed my fingers. “And you’re going where next?”

I pulled the device out, turned it until a soft blue light pulsed, pointing toward distant peaks. “That way.”

“How far?”

“I don’t know.” The truth burned my tongue.

“Then you’d better get started.” She patted my shoulder. “Accept help when it’s offered, little warrior. Pride makes for a cold companion on the road.”

Tharon approached, his own gear changed and weapons strapped across his back. He inclined his head to Mahra before turning to me. His hands spanned my waist as he lifted me onto the villart’s back.

The touch lingered, warm through the leather. His thumbs pressed small circles against my sides before he pulled away.

He swung up behind me, solid and steady at my back. His breath stirred the short hair at my nape through the thin fabric of the veil. “Ready?”

I nodded, not trusting my voice. The device’s blue light beckoned, promising answers, promising revenge. But for now, I needed his strength, his protection. The admission clawed at my throat like thorns.

“Safe journey,” Mahra called as Tharon urged the villart forward. “And remember what I said!”

The mining camp fell away behind us as we picked our way into the mountains. Tharon’s chest pressed against my back with each stride of our mount, his arms caging me as he held the reins.

I told myself it was just practicality. Just necessity.

I almost believed it.