Tharon

THARON

T he heat of the day carried the sharp scent of medicinal plants mixed with tanning solutions. My claws left fresh marks in the wooden door frame as I watched Niam take careful steps through the garden, catching herself on raised beds when her legs trembled.

Every instinct screamed to help her, to gather her close and carry her to safety. But I’d learned - my fierce little mate needed to find her own strength again.

I noticed Serra's youngest grandchildren peering from behind the herbs, their whispered conversation clear to my enhanced hearing.

“They say she made the Temple fall with just a thought...”

“Look how pale she is, like moonlight...”

“Do you think she really talks to machines?”

Niam noticed them too. She knelt carefully beside a patch of yarrow, her movements still stiff but improving. “Would you like to learn about the healing plants?”

The smallest child - Rovia - crept forward first, drawn by Niam’s gentle voice. The others followed, their fear melting into fascination as she showed them which leaves to pick, how to tell when flowers were ready for drying.

“Can I...” Rovia reached toward Niam’s close-cropped hair, then pulled back. “They say it burns like fire.”

“It’s just hair.” Niam caught the girl’s hand, guiding it to touch the bright strands. “See? No fire.”

The older children hung back, their eyes darting between Niam and me. One boy tugged the girl’s sleeve, trying to pull her away when she strayed too close to where I stood.

“But look at his hair,” Rovia whispered, seemingly unafraid. “Like the sky.”

Her brother’s voice shook. “Grandmother says the creatures outside the walls of Terr eat bad children.”

Standing deliberately relaxed, I remembered how Niam had taught me that stillness could be as important as strength. The children's heartbeats fluttered like trapped birds - except for Rovia, who seemed more fascinated than frightened.

“He’s not scary,” she announced, making her brother choke. “He looks at her like Papa looks at Mama.”

My chest tightened at how she handled their curiosity, teaching them not to fear what was different. The beast in me purred with pride even as it stayed alert for any threat to our mate. Children’s honest wonder was one thing - the calculated interest of adults would prove far more challenging.

As if summoned by my thoughts, Ashur strode into the garden, Mila at his side. Their expressions spoke of urgent news, but they paused when they saw Niam surrounded by children.

“The merchant’s council requests an audience,” Mila said, her tone careful. “And there are... visitors from the inner rings.”

I caught Niam’s subtle flinch at the prospect of more attention. But she stood smoothly, only I noticed how she steadied herself against the herb bed. “Then we shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

The tannery’s upper workroom had transformed into an unofficial command center. Serra directed traffic with the same efficiency she used in managing her vats, sorting petitioners by urgency while Mila and Ashur handled security. The air hummed with possibility and barely controlled chaos.

Merchants brought gifts with their trade proposals - fine silks, exotic spices, delicate metalwork. Each one stared a bit too long at Niam’s pale skin and Temple-marked temples before quickly looking away. But where they sought weakness, they found quiet strength instead.

“We appreciate your generous offerings,” she told a silk merchant who’d been particularly bold in his staring. “But perhaps we should discuss how your trading routes might better serve all rings of the city, not just the merchant quarter?”

The man blinked, caught off guard by her gentle rebuke wrapped in perfect courtesy. My beast preened at her skillful handling of these subtle power plays.

“The Pale Lady,” they whispered when they thought I couldn’t hear. “They say she commanded the Temple’s ghosts...”

“The beast prince tore through walls to reach her...”

“But look how gently he guards her now...”

My fingers itched to silence their gossip, but Niam handled each interaction with quiet dignity. She accepted their gifts with grave courtesy while redirecting their more pressing concerns to the proper family representatives. Only I saw how she leaned against my arm between audiences, drawing strength before straightening to face the next group.

By afternoon, she insisted on walking through the changing city. The thinness of her lips betrayed her exhaustion, but her eyes held that familiar determination. I positioned myself at her side - close enough to catch her if needed, but letting her set the pace. The streets had already begun transforming, Temple symbols painted over or torn down, new life emerging in the wreckage.

People’s reactions to Niam were complicated enough, but their response to me bordered on panic. They’d never seen a Shakai warrior up close - only heard tales meant to frighten children. Mothers gasped at my height, at my skin and hair that marked me as other. Men tried to appear unafraid while keeping careful distance.

“Stars save us,” an old woman muttered, making a warding sign. “It’s true what they say about the beast prince.”

A group of dock workers stopped mid-task, staring openly at my clawed hands and sharp teeth. Their fear-scent filled the air, making my Valti stir restlessly. But then Niam’s fingers brushed my arm, and the workers’ expressions shifted as they watched me gentle under her touch.

Their wonder at seeing a “monster” behave with such restraint almost amused me. Until a child’s ball rolled to my feet, and every adult in sight went rigid with terror. But before they could react, I crouched down - making myself smaller, less threatening - and carefully rolled it back to the wide-eyed boy who owned it.

The boy’s tentative smile sparked something in the watching crowd. Fear didn’t disappear, but it began mixing with cautious curiosity. They still gave us a wide berth, but now they watched with more wonder than dread.

People stopped in their tracks as we passed. Mothers pulled children close, but their expressions held more awe than fear now. A small boy broke free from his father’s grip, offering Niam a roughly-woven crown of autumn flowers.

She accepted it with the same grace she’d shown the merchants’ expensive gifts. The gesture sparked something - old women stepped forward to offer blessings, children darted close to touch her robe before running away giggling.

“The one who freed the lost daughters,” voices murmured.

“See how the beast prince watches over her?”

“They say his love broke Temple chains...”

Her hand found mine when the attention grew overwhelming, but she never stopped walking. My perfect, fierce little mate, facing her future one step at a time. Still, I felt the slight tremors running through her body, saw how she measured each step with careful precision. Pride warred with protective instinct - she needed to show herself to her people, but at what cost to her recovery?

When we finally returned to the tannery, she allowed me to support more of her weight on the stairs. The sunset painted the courtyard in shades of amber and rose, turning her pale skin to gold. Serra met us at the door, her sharp eyes noting Niam’s exhaustion.

“Enough for one day,” she announced in that tone that brooked no argument. “The city will still be here tomorrow.”

Evening found us in Serra’s private chamber, the herb-scented air carrying a hint of winter’s approach. Niam sank onto the window seat while I built up the fire, her fingers absently tracing the old scars at her temples. A message from Zashi lay open on the table - urgent words about court politics and the need for our return.

“They’ll expect a proper queen.” Her voice carried all the weariness she’d hidden during our walk. “Someone who knows protocol and precedent. Not a human girl who talks to machines.”

“They’ll recognize what I saw from the start.” I crossed to her, kneeling before the window seat to catch her restless hands in mine. “The courage that faced down priests. The compassion that saved others even after everything you suffered. The strength I saw today - handling merchants and children with equal grace.”

“And if I’m not ready?” The question held echoes of the frightened girl she’d been, before she brought down the Temple’s walls.

“Then we face it together.” I wrapped my arms around her, feeling her lean into the touch. “Like everything else.”

Through the window, stars emerged one by one - the same stars that had guided my people for generations. That would soon guide us home to Zashi. Niam’s hand found mine again, weaving our fingers together.

“Tell me something true,” she whispered.

I gathered her closer. “The whispers in Terr call you ‘The Pale Lady.’ In Zashi, they’ll call you queen someday.” My lips brushed her temple. “But to me, you’ve always been simply Niam. The one who faced down her nightmares to save others. The one who taught a beast to be gentle.”