Niam

NIAM

D awn slipped through the shutters in thin golden lines. I breathed in Tharon’s scent - spices and leather and something wild underneath. His arms wrapped around me, one hand splayed possessively across my stomach. The steady thud of his heart against my back anchored me to this moment, to this reality where I wasn’t alone anymore.

I traced my fingers along his forearm, memorizing the texture of his skin. His breathing changed instantly - going from the deep rhythm of sleep to full alertness in a heartbeat. The predator never truly rested.

“Morning,” I whispered.

He nuzzled into my neck. “Did you sleep?”

“Some.” I rolled to face him. In the dim light, his features softened, losing some of their usual harsh control. “You?”

“Enough.” His thumb brushed my cheek. “We should get up. The others will be here soon.”

I pressed closer, not ready to face the day yet. “Five more minutes.”

His chest rumbled with quiet laughter. “As my queen commands.”

But the sounds of the inn waking filtered through our temporary sanctuary - boots on wooden stairs, voices in the hallway, the clatter of cookware from below. Reality intruding.

“.” Tharon’s voice went serious. “Are you certain about this?”

“Yes.” I met his gaze. “I have to do this. Or the nightmare will never end.”

His jaw clenched, but he nodded. “Then we do it together.”

The sudden pounding at the door made me jump.

“If you two are done being disgusting, there's still plenty to get done!” Mila called through the wood.

I groaned and buried my face in Tharon’s chest. “I’m starting to regret asking for their help.”

“No, you’re not.” He traced the line of my cheek before rising. “Come on. Time to turn warriors into workers.”

The large chamber we’d commandeered for preparations looked like a merchant’s stall had exploded. Piles of coarse fabric covered every surface - rough-spun shirts and pants in various shades of mud brown.

Ashur held up a shirt between thumb and forefinger like it might bite him. “We’re really wearing these?”

“Would you prefer the guards recognize you instantly?” Mila snatched the garment from his hands. “Now strip.”

I bit back a laugh at his expression - somewhere between offended and amused. Even Korrin’s usual dignity cracked as he examined a pair of patched boots.

“How does anyone walk in these?” He turned them over, frowning at the thin soles.

“Carefully and with lots of practice.” Denna demonstrated the characteristic shuffle-step of a rag man. “Like this. Keep your head down, shoulders slumped.”

The three Shakai warriors attempted to copy her movements. Tharon looked like he was in physical pain trying to make himself appear smaller, less commanding.

“No, no.” Denna shook her head. “You’re still walking like you own the place. Slump more.”

“This is ridiculous.” Korrin adjusted the rough fabric wrapped around his face. “How does anyone breathe in these?”

“Better than breathing in the refuse you’ll be hauling.” Mila circled him, tugging the wrappings tighter. “And keep your voice down. Rag men rarely speak above a whisper.”

“Like this?” Ashur hunched his shoulders and shambled forward in an exaggerated stoop.

“Stars above.” Mila pressed her hands to her face. “Please tell me you can do better than that.”

I watched from my perch on a wooden chest, torn between amusement and worry. These proud warriors were trying so hard to become invisible. But would it be enough?

“Again,” Denna ordered. “All of you. And this time, remember - you’re beneath notice. You’re nothing. No one wants to look at you, so give them no reason to.”

The afternoon brought new challenges as we gathered in a circle on the floor.

“One more thing,” I said, raising my hand to interrupt another round of shuffling practice. “You need to learn some Terran.”

Denna nodded. “Right. No one expects rag men to talk back, but they will bark orders and expect a response. Short and simple ones. Repeat after me,” she said. “‘Yes, master.’”

Tharon’s attempt came out more like a growl.

“Try again,” I suggested. “Less murder in your tone.”

He shot me a look that promised retribution later, but made another attempt. Better, though still not quite submissive enough.

“Now some warning phrases.” Denna pointed to the slate. “‘Guards coming.’ ‘Run.’ ‘Hide.’”

Ashur’s pronunciation turned “please help” into “please hit,” sending Mila into fits of giggles. Even Korrin cracked a smile as he accidentally propositioned a imaginary guard instead of apologizing.

But beneath the laughter lay darker currents. Every fumbled phrase could mean discovery. Every missed cue could bring disaster. I caught Tharon watching me, saw the same fears reflected in his eyes.

The inn’s back courtyard became our training ground as afternoon shadows lengthened. Denna and Mila set up mock checkpoints, drilling responses and movements until they became smoother, more natural.

“Papers?” Denna barked, doing her best guard impression.

Ashur kept his head down, thrust out the forged documents with trembling hands. Perfect. Until he started humming under his breath.

“Again!” Mila ordered. “And this time, remember you’re terrified of authority.”

“I am terrified of nothing,” he muttered in Shakai.

“Then pretend,” I suggested. “Unless you want to explain to Mila why you got caught.”

That got through. His next attempt was flawless - the proper mix of fear and subservience.

The sun slipped below the horizon, painting the courtyard in deep purple shadows. My stomach pangs suddenly reminded me we’d skipped the midday meal in favor of practice.

“Food,” Mila announced, as if reading my thoughts. “Before we all collapse from hunger.”

I caught Tharon’s hand as we filed back inside. His fingers intertwined with mine, a silent promise of protection even in this safe space. The common room buzzed with travelers’ chatter, plates clinking against wooden tables, the sharp scent of roasted meat and fresh bread filling the air.

Within the inn’s private dining room, I caught the aromas of unfamiliar spices wafting from heated serving dishes. After a long day of preparations, my stomach growled despite my nerves.

“You need to eat.” Tharon pulled out my chair, his hand lingering on my shoulder as I sat. “Build your strength.”

At his command servants brought in platters heaped with dishes I’d never seen before. Vibrant colors and textures filled the table - golden-crusted pastries, roasted meats glazed with shimmering sauces, and vegetables cut into delicate spirals.

“Try this.” Tharon loaded his fork with a morsel of meat wrapped in paper-thin pastry. Instead of passing the plate, he held the fork to my lips. “Trust me.”

I hesitated, catching Ashur’s raised eyebrows and Korrin’s carefully blank expression. Even Denna had frozen mid-reach for her cup. The fearsome Prince of Zashi, hand-feeding someone like a doting lover?

But Tharon’s focus remained entirely on me, as if the others had ceased to exist. The tenderness in his expression made my chest ache.

I leaned forward and took the offered bite. Flavors exploded across my tongue - rich meat seasoned with sweet spices I couldn’t name, the pastry dissolving like snowflakes.

“Good?” His thumb brushed my lower lip.

I nodded, unable to speak around the exquisite taste. He smiled - not his usual predatory grin, but something softer, meant only for me.

“More?” Another choice morsel appeared on his fork - this time something that looked like jewel-toned flowers made of impossibly thin slices of fruit.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Mila’s jaw drop. The fearsome Prince of Zashi’s reputation clearly hadn’t prepared any of them for this side of him. But I was learning there were many sides to my mate.

I opened my mouth for another bite, savoring both the intricate flavors and the warmth in Tharon’s eyes as he watched me eat. Let them stare. This was who we were together, even if no one else understood.

The delicate fruit melted on my tongue like summer rain.

“Remember my first Wanderer feast?” Denna tucked her feet under her, accepting a cup of spiced wine from Korrin. “I’d never seen so much food in one place. Or so many colors.”

“Tell them about the dancing,” Mila prompted.

Denna’s cheeks flushed. “I stepped on everyone’s feet. But they just laughed and taught me the steps again.”

“You should see her now,” Korrin said. “She leads the harvest dances.”

“Because no one else wants to risk dropping the ribbons in front of the elders.” But Denna’s smile betrayed her pride.

I picked at my food, stomach too knotted for more than small bites. Tomorrow, we’d ride for Terr. Tomorrow we’d begin the journey back to my nightmares.

Tharon’s hand settled on my knee under the table. I covered it with mine, grateful for the anchor.

“What about you?” Denna asked Mila. “Any embarrassing stories?”

“Oh stars.” Mila groaned. “The first time I tried to cook for Ashur’s family. I didn’t know the spices were that different.”

“Different?” Ashur’s lips twitched. “You nearly burned my mother’s tongue off.”

“She was very polite about it!”

“She drank three pitchers of water.”

The laughter that followed eased some of the tension from my shoulders. These were my people now - this odd collection of humans and Shakai, bound together by choice and trust.

The conversation drifted, stories flowing like the wine. Tales of first meetings, of cultural misunderstandings, of finding belonging in unexpected places. Through it all, Tharon’s steady presence grounded me.

When the last dishes were cleared and the wine was gone, reality settled back over us like a heavy cloak. Tomorrow waited, with all its dangers and uncertainties.

“We should rest,” Denna said finally. “Long ride ahead.”

The others murmured agreement, rising to prepare for bed. But I lingered, not ready to face the dark and my dreams.

“Come.” Tharon pulled me to my feet. “One last check of the supplies, then sleep.”

The stable yard lay quiet under a blanket of stars. Our mounts dozed in their stalls while we triple-checked packs and weapons.

His hands caught mine, stilling their nervous movement. “.”

I couldn’t meet his eyes. “We need to-”

“Look at me.”

I did, finding warmth and steel in his gaze.

“Whatever happens,” he said, “fear nothing. I won’t let them take you again.”

“I know.” I pressed my face into his chest, breathing in his familiar scent. “But what if-”

“No.” His arms tightened around me. “No what-ifs. We go in. We do what must be done. We come out. Simple.”

I huffed a laugh against his shirt. “When you say it like that...”

“I say it like truth.” He tilted my chin up. “Trust me to protect you, my queen.”

“I do.” The words came easily now. “With everything I am.”

His kiss was gentle, a promise sealed in starlight. When we parted, some of my fears had eased, and after we returned to our room, sleep came easily.

The others joined us as false dawn painted the sky. No one spoke as we mounted up, the weight of our mission settling around us like cloaks.

I looked back once as we rode out. The inn’s windows glowed warm against the darkness, a reminder of safety freely abandoned. Then I faced forward, toward Terr and whatever waited in its shadowed rings.