Niam

NIAM

T he zvoyna in the inn’s stables nudged my hand with its scaled snout, warm breath huffing against my palm. I held out another handful of dried grasses, letting the creature’s forked tongue dart out to snatch them.

“They like you,” Velina said from where she perched on the stable wall, her blue-black braids swinging as she kicked her feet. “Usually, they only let Grandfather feed them.”

“Animals can tell when someone means them no harm.” I stroked the zvoyna’s ridged neck. Two days of helping with the morning feeding had taught me their habits - how they stamped their clawed feet when impatient, how their scales shifted from deep bronze to warm copper in the sun.

“Will you tell me another story about the wandering tribes?” Velina asked. “The one about the star-dancers?”

I smiled, reaching for more feed. “Maybe later. Right now, these hungry ones need breakfast.”

The stable yard had become my refuge these past days. Here, among the stamping mounts and bustling workers, I could almost forget the weight of the Temple’s shadow. The innkeeper’s granddaughter had attached herself to me from that first morning, peppering me with questions about everything from my hair to my accent.

“Lady !” One of the merchant women - Sela - called from the courtyard. “Thank you again for yesterday. The tea you suggested worked perfectly for my aching joints.”

“The Temple-” I caught myself. “My mother taught me about herbs. I’m glad it helped.”

Sela beamed, adjusting her heavy pack. “You must share more of your knowledge before you leave. Though I hope that won’t be too soon?”

“That depends on-” I spotted Tharon leaning against a pillar across the yard, watching. He gave me a slight nod but stayed where he was, letting me navigate these interactions on my own. My heart squeezed at his quiet support.

A commotion near the main gates scattered my thoughts. Stable hands rushed past, shouting orders. Dust rose from the Zashi road - riders approaching fast.

Tharon appeared at my side, stance alert but not alarmed. His hand brushed my lower back. “Four riders. Shakai style.”

The approaching group burst through the gates at full gallop, their villarts’ claws kicking up gravel. I recognized them instantly - Mila’s straight black hair streaming behind her, Denna’s golden curls contained in a traveler’s braid.

Mila wore traditional Shakai clothing now, the deep blues and greens suiting her dark coloring. Denna’s outfit showed the looser cut I’d noticed travelers at the inn from the Wandering Nation favored.

Behind them rode two massive Shakai who could only have been Ashur and Korrin.

Mila and Denna dismounted carefully, approaching me as if I might shatter. The old me might have. But that was before Tharon, before freedom.

I launched myself at them, pulling them both into a fierce hug. Denna stiffened in surprise before her arms came around me.

“You’re stronger,” Denna said, drawing back to study me. Her dark eyes widened at my unveiled face, the healthy flush in my cheeks.

“I’m getting there.” I squeezed her hands. “Where’s Lita? Is she alright?”

Mila rolled her eyes. “Oh, she’s fine. Just trapped in Zashi thanks to him.” She jerked her chin toward Tharon. “Drax has been running himself ragged handling council meetings, and Lita won’t leave while he’s so busy.”

“I’m sure Prince Drax is handling court matters well,” Tharon said mildly.

“He’d better be,” Ashur growled, but his eyes held amusement. “Speaking of court matters...” He pulled a leather message case from his saddlebag. “Some papers need your attention.”

The innkeeper materialized beside us, efficiency personified. “Shall I prepare connecting rooms for your companions?”

“Perfect.” Tharon rubbed my lower back absently. “Will you be alright while I handle this?”

I nodded, an odd lightness filling me at his concern. “Go. I have catching up to do anyway.”

He brushed his lips over my forehead before following Ashur and Korrin inside. Behind me, someone made a choked sound of surprise.

The innkeeper led us to a comfortable sitting room where cushioned chairs surrounded a low table. A serving girl brought tea and honey cakes, the spicy-sweet scent filling the air.

“Are you really alright?” Denna asked as soon as we were alone. “We’ve been so worried, especially given...” She hesitated.

“Given what?”

Mila and Denna exchanged glances.

“Given that you’re with Tharon,” Mila finally said. “We know what he’s like - cold, ruthless. The stories about him...”

I blinked. “What? No, Tharon is...” I paused, really thinking about it. The way others flinched from him, how carefully the innkeeper tracked his movements. How different he was with me compared to everyone else.

“He’s kind,” I said slowly. “At least to me.”

“To you,” Denna emphasized. “But not to others. The way he’s handled rivals, how he manipulated the court...” She shook her head. “Just be careful, alright?”

I absently stirred my tea, mind whirling. The Tharon they described seemed nothing like my protective, attentive mate. But I remembered his carefully blank expression when discussing politics, the calculated way he approached problems.

Two sides of the same man, I realized. The cold prince and the devoted mate. Both equally real.

And equally mine.

“I know who he is,” I said finally. “All of who he is. And I trust him.”

Mila squeezed my hand. “Then we trust your judgment. Just know we’re here if you need us.”

I smiled, emotion tightening my throat. “I know. Now tell me everything I’ve missed.”

Mila and Denna’s tales of their new lives spilled out, punctuated by laughter and animated gestures. I soaked in their happiness like a flower turning toward sunlight, letting their joy wash away the shadows of the past few days.

“You should have seen Ashur’s face when I told him I wanted to learn sword-fighting,” Mila said, reaching for another honey cake. “He tried to talk me out of it for days until I threatened to ask Drax instead.”

“And now?”

“Now he complains that I’m getting too good.” She grinned. “But I caught him bragging to the other warriors last week.”

I pictured her wielding a weapon against seasoned Shakai warriors. The image filled me with a fierce pride.

“What about you, Denna?” I asked. “How are you finding life with the Wandering Nation?”

She brushed crumbs from her riding clothes. “It’s... never boring. Let me tell you about the time Baroness Balinta caught some merchants trying to cheat the tribe?”

I shook my head, curling deeper into the cushioned chair. The innkeeper had stoked the fire against the mountain chill, and its warmth seeped into my bones.

“These traders came through last month, claiming their silk was worth three times what the tribe usually pays. Balinta listened to their whole spiel about special dyes and rare weaving techniques.” Denna’s eyes danced. “Then she picked up one bolt and started listing every flaw in the weave, every uneven dye lot, even the exact village where it was made - which was definitely not where they claimed.”

“What did they do?”

“Turned white as ghosts. Turns out she’d spent her youth trading textiles across half the continent. They couldn’t leave fast enough once she was done with them.” Denna’s smile turned thoughtful. “She’s teaching me about fabrics now. Says knowledge is the best weapon in any negotiation.”

More stories flowed - Mila describing the sprawling markets of Zashi, where traders from across the lands hawked their wares. Denna telling tales of life on the move with the Wandering Nation, following ancient paths between summer and winter grounds.

I drank in every detail, until a comfortable silence fell. I traced the rim of my teacup, watching ripples spread across the surface.

“.” Denna’s voice grew serious. “What can we do to help?”

I met their concerned gazes. These women who had escaped the Temple’s grasp, who had built new lives far from its shadow. Who had come running at my message despite the danger.

“The device you helped assemble,” I said slowly. “It led me to something. A... control section that broke off when the ship crashed.”

Their blank looks reminded me - they didn’t know. How could they? The Temple kept its true nature hidden even from its own servants.

“The Temple.” Where to even start? “It’s what’s left of the colony ship that brought humans to this world. The priests use the machinery, the tanks, to...to repair it. With our bodies. Our minds.”

Horror dawned on their faces as understanding hit. Everything they’d endured - the “purification” rituals, the sensory deprivation tanks, the girls who disappeared - suddenly made terrible sense.

“Stars above.” Denna’s face had gone pale. “All this time...”

“I tried to destroy it from the command pod.” My fingers twisted in my skirt. “But there’s too much damage. The systems won’t respond properly. I have to go back to make the final link.”

“No!” They spoke in unison, then shared a quick glance.

“You can’t.” Mila reached for my hand, her eyes going to the side of my head where the implants had been just a few days before. “After everything it took to get you out-”

“I have to.” Steel filled my voice. “As long as the Temple stands, they’ll keep taking girls. Keep using them. Keep-”

The door opened. Tharon filled the frame, his expression unreadable as he took in our positions, the tension in the air.

“The innkeeper said you hadn’t touched your lunch.” His eyes met mine. “Everything alright?”

I started to reassure him, but Denna spoke first.

“She wants to go back to the Temple.”