Chapter 11

Well,that was fun.

The shuttle is long gone, having departed while we were all engrossed in the spectacle of Sohven’s reunion with the four men I immediately recognized as his parents. Okay, it was the big one who greeted him first that sealed the deal for me—except for the differences in their coloration, looking at the older man was like being granted a glimpse of Sohven in twenty years’ time. With the others, I simply assumed.

“Is it what you expected?”

I glance up at the man who’s standing far closer to me than I’d prefer. I’m not sure if this father wants to keep me within arm’s reach because he’s worried I’ll get lost, or because it’ll be all the easier to toss me off this cliff when I say the wrong thing.

“Sohven described the eyrie in general terms, but he didn’t give me many details. I wouldn’t say I had any fixed image in my mind, but the reality surpasses anything I pictured.” There. A perfectly indecipherable answer. Praise, insult? Who can tell?

“Then you are ill prepared to take your place here. We were shocked when the notice came through that Sohen had requested approval for entry to our eyrie.” The man’s wing falls heavy on my shoulder, keeping me in place as effectively as his hand would’ve. “Don’t misunderstand. Although our people don’t normally welcome strangers, you’re different. You’ve brought Sohen back to us. We would’ve accepted a far less appealing mate than a comely human if it meant our only gazla child would resume his role here.”

“What exactly did it say in Sohen”s entry permission request?” I ask. I feel like his parents are making a lot of assumptions, and I’m sure hoping they’re not substantiated. I distinctly heard one of the dads saying Sohven was here to take his mates, as in plural, and I’m not too keen on all of this nest talk either.

Somehow that wing on my shoulder grows even heavier. I hold myself back from shrugging it off, since at this point, I’m still on my best behavior—trying to make a good impression and all.

“Sohen requested entrance to Fallil Eyrie on Lohnyal to take part in the fertility rites.” I receive the first true smile from dad number two as he shifts his body to face me better. It’s not a good look on him—the pointy teeth and thin lips work for Sohven, but this man looks like a rabid chihuahua. “We understood what that meant easily enough. No Lohnya can avoid their destiny forever. Sohen just needed more time than his nestmates to accept his place.”

I decide this isn’t the time to contradict him. “It seemed very crowded when we first arrived,” I say instead. A lot of our audience appears to have dispersed, but I’ve caught a flash of horn and the arched apex of a wing here and there as we’ve been walking. I’ve needed to keep half my attention on the ground since the supposed path we’re taking is littered with loose stones, and there’s enough moss-like growth in the shaded areas to make it slippery.

“It is crowded. Eligible residents from other eyries come to visit for the festival hoping to entice our gazlas, so our cliff is always full during such times.”

“You’ve told me that you and Sohven’s fathers welcome me, but what about the rest of your settlement? Will they accept my presence here?”

I’m really ready for this guy to remove his wing. Picking through the narrow cliffside trail two abreast can’t be anyone’s idea of a fun time.

“You brought back Sohen,” he replies, all of those sonorous, swooping vowels going flat. “No one will dare treat you with anything but the utmost respect.”

I dip my head a little to show I heard him, but I don’t push my luck by attempting to continue the conversation. Soon, Sohen’s father pulls ahead to lead us down an even narrower path branching off to the right. If I look straight ahead, I have a good view of his wings, but I have to tilt my head back to see the shiny tips of his horns where they curve over his scalp. I’ve never minded Sohven being bigger than me, but I don’t like looking up to his fathers.

My guide shows no signs of stopping, so I take a moment to look at my surroundings as I walk. I didn’t lie before—Sohven’s description of the eyrie was minimal, but I wasn’t expecting something so rugged. Rock the same gray as Sohven’s skin rises up on my right, the sloped face cut by spider-silk thin lines, little whispers carved across the stone. I want to put my hand out and touch it, but then I’d surely fall behind. Off to the left beyond the flat main ledge is a seemingly endless expanse of bright sky, pale blue edged with crimson, and the sun is a large one. It looks wrong to any spaceborn human, raised on images of life on the old home world, Earth.

What a lonely place this must be. I look out, but there’s nothing but a speck of charcoal on the horizon, no other matching cliffside eyries in sight. That charcoal slash grows larger. I almost trip over a protruding slab of stone when it comes even closer, the indistinct form resolving into a Lohnya in flight, wings pumping while he clasps something to his chest. When he lands, he lands hard, bending deep at the knees as his talons dig into the scree along the path for purchase. I don’t look away fast enough to miss his gaze sharpening as he notices me watching.

“You’re using Sohen’s claim-name. Look down before Jolan believes you’re seeking another gazla.”

I thought Sohven’s big dad was the scariest, but I was wrong. This one looks like he’s liable to slap me down with one of those crimson streaked wings of his. I wonder if that’s where Sohven got his markings.

“Hurry. I must make you ready for the start of the festival.” His mouth tightens and I see the exact moment his arm shoots forward to grab me.

“Coming,” I say as I get moving. Sohven’s never hurt me with his talons, but I doubt this particular father would be as careful with me. “Do you know where my baggage is?” I ask. I’m really longing for the security of the extra comm devices I packed. Even if I’m not ready to use them, I want to rub them between my fingers so I can convince myself I’ve got a way out of here within reach.

“You’ll find it in your nest later. There’s no time for that now.” Sohven’s dad gives my body a dismissive look as his nostrils thin to barely visible slits. “I have much work to complete before you’ll be fit for the rite.”

I’ve dealt with rude aliens before. That’s kind of part of the job description, but it hits a bit differently when it’s a member of my man’s family looking at me like I’m something pulled out of the refuse tunnel that just got stuck between his shiny talons. I hold my peace and follow papa number two as the path begins to slope downwards. I’m not a big fan of caves, but the dark overhang up ahead is a pretty clear sign that wherever we’re going is inside of the mountain. I’m not sure that’s the right term. Butte? Plateau? Who knows? Geological features were never my strong suit—space brat here. The fact of the matter is that shit’s about to get dark and claustrophobic really fucking soon.

The rush of dank air I’m expecting as we enter the shadow cloaked opening doesn’t come. It’s dim, but softly glowing lights line the edges of our new path. The floor here is still dark gray rock, but it’s been smoothed and polished to a high sheen, and it feels more like we’re walking through an experience room in the latest high-class resort on Milska Station than what I was imagining would be a primitive cave tunnel. Joke’s on me. I should’ve known better. Nothing about Sohven has ever hinted that he came from a low-tech planet.

The ceiling is surprisingly high, just like on the shuttle. Pinprick sized lights are scattered above us. Maybe they like it because it reminds them of the stars at night. I’m not going to lie. I was hoping I might get a chance to experience sleeping beneath the open sky here, but if the nests are packed down deep in this stone labyrinth, I doubt that’ll happen.

“How many entrances are there? Are all of the nests here?” I ask as I follow Sohven’s father’s footsteps. His talons make this echoing clacking noise each time they strike the floor. It’s got the back of my neck pebbled with goosebumps, and not the good kind.

“There are perhaps thirty active nests. Fallil is a well respected eyrie, but our settlement is not one of the largest in this region.”

I’m glad he answered. The faint floor lights are too similar to the emergency lighting on one of our ships for comfort, and the sound of his voice helps keep me grounded. If I breathe in too deeply, I catch the scent of fried electrical conduits and adrenaline spiked sweat. I can almost feel the throb in my head—I can practically taste the copper of my own blood dripping over my upper lip. The man’s wings drag with that eerie rustle-rustle-slap that just won’t leave my dreams at night, and he’s not Sohven. I wish all memories were easy to forget.

“You stink of fear, human. What’s wrong?”

I laugh. What isn’t?

“I’m fine. I just prefer bright spaces,” I reply.

Sohven’s father lets out a throaty grumble that reverberates up into that empty air above us. “Then you will like Sohen’s nest. We prefer to conserve energy. Corridors don’t require excessive lighting,” he says.

I hear a sort of staticky buzz when my translation device trips over a few of his words, but I think I got the gist of it. Sohven and I have talked enough that together we’ve significantly updated the Lohnya word banks for our sector of space, but there are still topics where the translation program has scanty data. The Lohnya have always been reticent with information on their culture, and that goes for their media and language files, too.

“I can’t wait to see it,” I tell him. If he picks up on my flat affect, he doesn’t let on.

We don’t walk much further before the first opening off of the hall appears, but Sohven’s father goes on by, leading us to a second doorway. There’s no solid barrier, but instead what appears to be a layer of thick haze filling the space.

“Go in. I’ll follow,” he says, flicking his taloned hand towards the opening.

I give him a curt nod and surreptitiously hold my breath as I barrel right through that wall of smoke. I don’t even feel it. There’s not that damp heaviness that comes from mist settling over your skin, and I don’t smell a thing. Whatever it is, the barrier’s just an illusion.

I don’t have much time to ponder their lack of security measures, because the rest of the nest quickly grabs my attention. A light emanates from the ceiling, growing brighter by the second. It glows like a tiny sun. There’s no framework or visible source to it, and it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I want to kick myself for making assumptions again, because I heard the word “nest,” and my mind conjured up a gigantic stick-lined orgy pit. That’s not what’s revealed beneath that otherworldly light.

The room is larger than what I’m used to, that’s for sure. Sohven could stand in the center, fully extend his wings, jump, and have room to twirl around in a circle—with an audience, too. A few ivory colored ropes are fastened from wall to wall. They drape in sinuous lines, hanging low to almost brush the bottom of the nest. The majority of the floor is covered in what sort of looks like an oversized bed, but instead of one mattress, there are various sections raised up higher than the others, each set at different angles. Everything looks soft and comfortable, and the air here doesn’t hold a trace of damp. It’s almost like the filtered air in a spaceship, but there’s no hint of the inescapable staleness that always lingers on the edges of each breath up there.

“We’re going to the next chamber.”

Sohven’s father sounds no more enthused over my company than he did before. I tear my gaze away from the sleeping area and follow him. Good thing I let him lead. I wouldn’t have found the doorway on my own. He presses the talons of one hand into a series of small holes on the rock wall, and what looked like solid stone wavers before it blinks away, leaving behind a large opening with a curved arch.

My eyebrows jump a little as I watch, but I hurry to go through after dear old dad. This room is as spacious as the last, but it’s laid out more like a typical human living area. Several broad stools are set near one another, and shelves are cut into the rock, filled with many small bins and baskets. Another wall is covered in a swath of irregularly cut pieces of mirrored glass. If I squint at the arrangement, it almost looks like a cresting wave. One of the same broad, glowing lights I saw in the first room makes the ceiling feel like another small sky.

“Well, come here then,” commands my Lohnya guide.

I look over to where Sohven’s dad lets his bare foot rest on the bottom rung on one of the stools. His toes curl over the edge until his talons scrape the material, but they don’t leave a single mark. Whatever it is isn’t wood then—another sign that things here are more advanced than they appear at first glance.

I walk over and sit down when he lifts his foot and steps back.

“You’ll need to remove those coverings,” he says, dipping his horns towards my lower half.

I unfasten my boots and tug them off along with my socks before I stand up and untie the arms of my coveralls. I push them down, letting everything fall to my ankles before I step out of one leg and pull the other over my foot. I’d prefer not to be standing bare-assed in front of one of my future father-in-laws, but I just fold my things as efficiently as I can, set them down on the floor, coveralls on top of the boots, and sit myself right back down, turning to face the man.

“What’s next?” I ask, probably with a bit more of an edge than I should, but this guy just brings it out of me.

“I prepare you for the first rite. I’ll paint your body with the vossan in the traditional symbols of our clan. All will see your intention to join Sohen’s nest. If he signals his approval, you’ll be able to enter the trials tomorrow to prove your fitness.” I get that shark-toothed, sharp smile again, but I think it’s meant in good faith. “We know that Sohen will take you as a mate regardless. Completing the trials is mainly ceremonial now, but it’s significant to Sohen and to us that you participate.”

“I’m honored that you’re willing to accept me and share your traditions. I know our relationship is unusual for your people, and I’ll do my best to make Sohen proud,” I tell him. I mean it, even if a part of me is catastrophizing over what Lohnya mating “trials” could possibly be and whether I’ll have a chance of succeeding. “Does the entire eyrie observe the festival and these trials, or is it only for those hoping to join with their mates?”

“Some events are for all to appreciate. Others are not,” Sohven’s father says as he walks over to the shelves and pulls a bin part way out, his long fingers shuffling through the contents. When he turns around, he’s holding up an object that looks like a combination between a drawing stylus and one of Pavok’s injectables. Since I don’t see any designs on his skin, and all of it’s on display, I think it’s safe to assume whatever designs he’s preparing to etch on my body won’t be permanent. I smile a little and try to look agreeable as he approaches.

I freeze up when the tip of the device touches my skin, but it doesn’t hurt or poke me—it’s hot, but not so much so that I can’t grit my teeth and bear it. He draws it down in a long, sloping line across my left pec that curves around my lower abs to circle back up above my hip bone. Staying still is a struggle. He presses hard enough that the point drags slightly, tickling my skin with that itchy heat as he goes. Whatever kind of ink or paint it is, it’s thick and deep crimson with a hint of brown—just like the color that accents Sohven’s wings (and his father’s).

He starts again on my opposite hip and leaves a matching line on the right side of my body before he begins adding shorter strokes. The discomfort is enough that I can’t really zone out, but watching the device move across my skin helps me keep my body under control when I want to twist and slide away from it. When he flicks the bottom of my chin with a thumb talon, I look up.

“Head up. You’ll ruin the lines bending your neck like that,” he complains.

I shift my focus to a shiny circular item on the opposite wall. I don’t see a reflection, so it’s not a mirror, but whatever it is, it appears decorative. I wish I could watch the lines take shape over my body, but I keep my mouth shut and settle in for the duration.

I hiss when Sohven’s father moves to my back and the device digs in a bit too deep.

“I apologize,” he says, sounding colder and stiffer than before. “Human hide is frustratingly delicate.”

“I’m fine,” I tell him. I’ve already winced through a few brushes with his talons. I can handle the device.

He’s silent again for a while. The sound of the device slipping across my skin becomes almost soothing when he inhales noisily. “Sohen can touch you without damaging you?” he asks, more hesitant than I’ve heard him yet.

“There are other aliens we work with who are also more vulnerable than the Lohnya. By the time he met me, I think Sohen already knew how to keep his talons to himself when he needed to.” I break the rules and turn my neck to look back. “Sohen’s never hurt me,” I tell him. “I’m not as fragile as I look.”

He nods and looks down, his free hand clamping down over my shoulder as he returns to his work, pulling the device along the line of my spine. I breathe in and close my eyes. I can sit still another hour for Sohven.

Standing still proves a bit more difficult. Luckily, the designs on my legs are fewer and less intricate. It’s not all that long before the device lifts away from my skin for the last time.

“It’s complete,” Sohven’s father says. He’s frowning at my body as he looks me over.

“Can I see myself?” I ask.

My request gets me a deeper frown and a glare from a pair of space-dark eyes that are somehow nothing at all like Sohven’s despite the surface resemblance. “No. Not yet. That will come later. The design should last through the festival and the celebrations afterwards. Sohen will approve.”

Well, okay then. “Thank you. I’m happy to do this for him,” I say.

That seems to please my future father-in-law a bit more, and his frown lightens as he turns away again. He fishes something else out of a different bin on the shelf wall. When he walks back to me, he’s holding a long necklace like the silver one Losla wore earlier.

“You won’t wear it during the trials, but it’s customary to wear the ullaz during the opening rites. You’ll give it to Sohen when the prospective mates are called forward. At the conclusion of the festival, he will return it to you when he takes you as his mate.”

He lifts the necklace up and I dip my head, even though it’s entirely unnecessary. The man’s tall enough that he doesn’t need my help to put it on me. He gives me one last once-over, and then takes me through a second doorway. As soon as I walk through, he’s hopping back.

“I’ll allow you some privacy. Return to the main chamber once you’ve finished,” he tells me.

The opening blurs a bit, and then the stone seems to re-materialize, cutting me off from Sohven’s dad and the other room. My heart catches in my throat. I sure hope the walls aren’t soundproof. It looks like someone forgot I don’t have the talons necessary to reopen the door. I stow away that worry for a moment. He obviously sent me to this room for a reason. My bladder is confident it must be the lav, because all of a sudden, I’m in dire need of the facilities.

A quick look around reveals multiple possible drains in the floor. There’s a high stool with an opening in the middle that seems pretty self-explanatory. I pick the drain closest to it and give the now invisible doorway a glance before I take a piss.

Once I’m done, I walk back to the area where the opening was and search for the holes I noticed in the first room. I find them easily, but a quick press of my fingertips over the empty spaces is enough to demonstrate that I don’t have the necessary anatomy to activate whatever controls the door’s visibility. I give the stone in front of me a light kick, and the pain in my toes tells me this wall isn’t an illusion. That coupled with the stiffness in my muscles from staying still through the application of the ceremonial body paint has me ready to get out of here.

“Hello?” I call. “I’m unable to open an entryway. Can you please let me through?”

I’ve just about resigned myself to an afternoon locked inside the alien lav when the stone gets blurry and then disappears in the shape of a wide doorway.

“Thank you so much,” I say as I hightail it out of there and back into the painting room. I hold up a hand. “My nails aren’t shaped correctly to open the wall.” I hope that sentence makes some sort of sense after its translation, although I wouldn’t be surprised if it ends up sounding like a bunch of nonsense.

Sohven’s dad snatches my hand out of the air and peers down at my fingertips. Awkward. He’s not my first handsy alien either. I let him have his fun, turning my fingers this way and that until he tries to make my pinkie stretch a way it just isn’t designed to go.

“Okay, okay. That hurts. I only have one thumb.” I wiggle it for good measure. “Will I get to see Sohen again now?”

“No,” he replies, just that, no explanation. “Come,” he orders, striding across the room to the next doorway.

“Should I bring my things with me?” I ask with a glance toward my boots and folded coveralls.

He pauses, but doesn’t look back. “No. You’ll have no need for them now.”

I follow Sohven’s dad out and through the large bed—nest?—chamber, and I draw in a quick breath once we’re back in the dark corridor. Here, it actually feels like we’re walking beneath tons of rock that could just as easily crush us. He was right before—their homes really do feel bright and comfortable in comparison.

He’s pretty tight-lipped for the remainder of our walk together. My body loosens in relief as soon as I step beyond the overhang at the cave’s entrance. Light, glorious light, even if it is from a too-big sun and the humid air slips over my bare limbs like a second skin, promising that I’ll be sweat-damp before the evening comes.

We take the same path back, and I have a little trouble keeping up this time around. The stones dig into the tender arches of my feet, and I’m thankful as hell that there’s no trees up here, because otherwise I’d be battling the memories of Sannaveh all over again. That’s one good thing about Fallil Eyrie; it’s all wide-open spaces out here, sky as far as the eye can see. I spend so much of my life in cramped quarters that all of that exquisite freedom on the horizon’s a shock to the system. It almost makes the bile rise in my throat if I think about it too hard, but I’m determined to enjoy it.

There are enough scattered rocks and little ledges that it’s easier to stay on the path, but we don’t need to—I imagine Sohven’s father could scrabble over them easily enough with those flexible feet and sturdy talons. It wasn’t so long ago that I saw Sohven effortlessly scale massive, rough-barked trees without any trouble.

We don’t go to the area where the shuttle landed, at least I don’t think so. The new plateau ahead of us is narrower and longer, and this time, none of the Lohnya are bothering to linger behind the ledges. My skin feels too tight around my eyes, and my heart’s racing while I try to appear unbothered by the size of the crowd in front of me.

I try to count them, but lose track when I hit around thirty-five. I wanted a mirror earlier, to see what I looked like marked with their paint. I have one now.

Every single Lohnya here except for Sohven’s father is covered in intricate designs that somehow manage to make them appear even more imposing. Do the lines that dug into my skin as he drew them make my shoulders appear broader, my abs tighter? Because everyone in front of me looks like they were carved out of granite by the gods themselves.

Fun fact. All of those statues humans used to revere, the ones taken from Greece we liked to keep in our museums, divine, beautiful bodies rendered in creamy white marble? Joke’s on us. The originals would’ve been painted. Colorful gods, too bright, too vivid for good taste. That’s what the Lohnya here remind me of. I hope I look half as good. For the first time, I wonder how Sohven will compare me to his own people, and if he’ll find me lacking.

Sohven’s father’s watching me. I give him another little nod and step forward.

“Jace Cesari, the only human to attempt the mating trails of Fallil Eyrie!” he shouts. His wings half open and flutter a bit, making a racket which the other Lohnya soon echo, ten times louder. “Prepare well. The ceremony will soon begin!”

He doesn’t even spare me a glance before he leaves me there with the rest of them. Everyone stares, keeping so quiet that my joints feel like they just locked up. I don’t think I could move to break that silence if my life depended upon it.

Maybe my luck is better than I thought. One man comes forward from the back of the crowd, and I know him—it’s Losla.

He looks different. Bigger, confident…sly. I don’t know quite how to describe it, but the way he’s looking at me has my hackles rising. Bold red lines swirl across his pale hide. He should remind me of a holiday decoration, clad all in red and his own natural green, but instead he looks more like a warrior than he ever did before. As soon as he speaks, I know I’m not wrong. He is different now.

“Jace.” He says my name like it feels good on his tongue, and his eyes are eating me up in the same way, luxuriating, drawing it out, enjoying himself. If I’m not mistaken, his voice sounds deeper than before, too.

“Losla,” I say back, giving him a little head dip. I may not have the shiny horns, but I picked up on the gesture easily enough. It’s also one of the more common ones among all of us aliens out there in our big, beautiful galaxy.

He steps closer so fast I almost don’t see him move. “Zana,” he corrects, and yep, he’s no longer behaving like our polite guide aboard the shuttle. “The vossan looks good on you.” He turns his hand to draw the smooth side of one of his talons along the thick line that wraps over my chest and down my stomach. I struggle not to move beneath that cool touch, not daring to look away from his dark eyes.

“Thanks. I think red’s my color. Looks like it’s yours, too,” I tell him.

He smiles, and the expression on his face has me wondering how big the pile of shit I just stepped in might be. “Yes. It’s ours,” he says, his face so close to mine that there’s no mistaking the flare of his nostril slits as he breathes me in and shivers like he just got a hit of the good stuff. “I would gladly share a nest with you, beautiful human.”

Yeah, hard no there.

I slide my left leg back so I’m no longer swallowing his exhales, but it’s not enough space for comfort. I do what I should’ve done earlier and use my brain, scanning the large group of us and quickly realizing the colors and markings of the vossan don’t appear to be random.

“So is everyone wearing red hoping to be part of Sohv—” I catch myself there before I scandalize a new group of Lohnya. “Sohen’s nest?”

Losla tilts his head down slowly with a subtle little smirk. “Yes, of course. He’s a magnificent gazla.” He looks up. “He will require many mates to satisfy him, don’t you agree?”

No. Absolutely fucking not. I promised myself I’d be on my best behavior today for Sohven, but I don’t know enough about his people to decide whether challenging Losla would be good for my status here or cause an interspecies incident and ensure I’d never be asked back to the planet again. I’ll have to figure it out quickly, because that question demands a response.

“My people choose one mate.” They don’t need to know about the intricacies of all possible human romantic relationships. Sohven’s made it quite clear monogamy is what he wants, and that’s all that matters. “I’m sorry you’ll be disappointed, but he’ll only choose me. The rest of you should pick another gazla.”

I’ve thrown down the gauntlet alright. I’ve got about twelve riled-up Lohnya moving towards me, all of them bearing similar markings, prettied up in a red that makes us all look like we’ve been painted with blood.

“Such confidence. I’d like to discover what talents you possess that make you so certain, small beautiful one.” That gem comes from a Lohnya who’s slipped his way behind me. He’s talking softly from over my shoulder.

“It’s not forbidden for those taking part in the trials to test their compatibility. We may all choose a specific gazla, but our relationships with our other mates are just as important,” says Losla. A few other Lohnya move closer to him, eyeing me up as their hungry eyes and upright wings signal their agreement with that sentiment.

“I’m flattered, but that’s not happening. Sohen wouldn’t approve.” I hope the next portion of the day’s events begins quickly, because I’m not making any friends here by telling them no. I love Sohven, and I’m trying my best for him here, but submitting to some kind of bonding orgy session just to keep the peace wouldn’t make either of us happy.

One of the silent men tips his head to the side like he’s listening for something in the distance. His lips tilt up in a faint smile when he catches me watching him. “It’s good to obey your gazla’s wishes,” he says, “but now that you’re both home in his eyrie, he’ll take his place as he was meant to. You’ll understand soon.”

The words feel like they’re meant as encouragement, but I’m taking them more as an ominous warning. The moment when I can talk to Sohven again can’t come soon enough.

“So, could anyone tell me about the trials so I’ll know what to expect? Will I be able to complete them without wings and talons?” I’m thinking about the bathroom door that trapped me earlier. I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of Sohven. If none of this mattered to him, he wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble to bring us here.

“You may need assistance. Can you swim?” It’s funny. Losla’s one of the smaller guys here, but he seems pretty comfortable taking the lead.

“Yes,” I reply. I probably shouldn’t be able to—I had little enough opportunity to spend time in the water as a child, but Federation officers need to be ready for all challenges. Those academy simulations really were top-notch, and I know that for a fact. I’ve had my aquatic skills tested several times since I left the service.

“Good. We don’t dirty our talons during the hunt, so you’ll have access to the same weapons as the rest of us. You can work with any one of us for trials involving flight,” says Losla.

“He speaks the truth. I’d be honored to fly with one whom our gazla has already claimed,” says another.

“Thanks,” I tell them. Forgetting your manners is never a good idea when working with unknown quantities, and I’m positive I still have mountains left to learn about Lohnya society.

The one with the crooked smile and the shifty eyes chuffs. “The others are listening. They’re jealous that you’re ours.”

Losla joins in with the smiling, dipping his horns to the other man. “They’re cursing the winds they didn’t listen to the stories. Now it’s too late for them to choose better.” He glances dismissively towards a little group of Lohnya with blue and yellow paint before he grins at the rest of us.

“What happens if I’m right, and Sohen doesn’t accept all of you into his nest? Will you still have another chance to mate?” I ask. I might not know these men well, but I don’t want them to get cheated out of a milestone in their lives just because Sohven and I wanted to get Lohnya-married.

Someone snaps their wings hard enough I feel a little breeze across my bare back.

“Next year, and maybe the year after if we’re lucky,” the man behind me answers. “Another gazla may choose to offer an ullaz to any one of us, but just as the gazlas don’t have to accept our interest, all of us are free to reject any gazla’sullaz at the end of the festival.”

I skate my fingertips over the large beads of the necklace that falls down below my belly button. “This is the ullaz, right?” The silvery beads feel surprisingly dense. They look like crumpled balls of aluminum, but they sit heavy against my skin.

I untangle my fingers from the strand when I notice Losla and a few of the others staring. The bottom loop of the necklace rests right across my treasure trail. If it’d been any longer, it would’ve been grazing my pubes. I run my hands through my hair and hold back a groan of frustration.

“Yes, that’s your ullaz.” Fingers even longer than Sohven’s slide over my shoulder, a dexterous thumb plucking one of the beads by my chest.

I clasp the necklace in my hand, snatching it back, and step to the side, angling my body so the man can’t hide himself behind me again. He’s as tall as Sohven, but rangy and long-limbed in a way the other Lohnya aren’t. His eyes flash, that streak of blue through the middle pale enough that it appears to glow. He’s certainly striking—not that I’m going to let myself look too closely.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Vozu,” he tells me, making those two syllables stretch the way Lohnya do. It reminds me of pushing my arm through water, how everything slows down when I strain against the resistance.

“It’s good to meet you all,” I say, but I give Vozu the head tip this time. I like him better than Losla, even if I’ve had little enough cause to make any judgments.

“They come!” calls someone from off to the right.

We all turn, including the other groups of hopeful mates. The whole painted lot of us is looking towards the rocky area that leads up to a lonely peak. What I see takes my breath away.

They’re flying in groups of fours, fives, and sixes, Lohnya whose hides are so pale they’re hard to see against the sky, and others as dark as charcoal. It looks choreographed, like I might find some mastermind directing them from the ground, telling them all what to do. Their broad wings sweep and carve through the air as they embrace each other and then release their holds to spin away before doing the whole thing all over again. It’s like watching an accordion squeeze shut and expand, except a thousand times more beautiful.

They’re coming this way, descending from that peak, growing larger the closer they fly. It’s clearer now who controls the dance. In the center of each group is a man larger than the rest, one who’s just that bit more majestic, more awesome, in the biblical sense of the word. Imagining Sohven up there is easy—I just can’t see where I’d fit in. I guess it’s a good thing I have confidence in spades, because otherwise the thought might wreck me.

“Sohen and the others will come as soon as the elders’ flight is finished,” says Vozu. His wing shifts forward, its dry weight brushing over my back before he tucks it away.

“He won’t be flying with anyone else now, right?” I ask.

I don’t want to see him moving like that with another man. Limbs entwine with limbs, hips lift and twist in sensuous patterns, and eyes close as they bare their necks and touch each other, their open mouths tasting the flavor of one another’s skin.

I shift my weight onto the balls of my feet, pressing it down from left foot to right and back again. My nipples tighten, skin drawing up so taut it almost pinches, and my throat feels too thick to suck down air. I hope everyone’s eyes are on the sky, because I can’t stop my body from responding to the erotic display.

I dig my fingernails into the outside of my thigh when I recognize Sohen’s fathers locked together in one of the undulating clumps of raw hunger. Their wings keep them from falling, but they list and spin whenever enough of them forget they need to fly to remain aloft. Catching sight of them is like being doused with ice water. It quickly takes care of the inconvenience of my nascent arousal, quenching it before it can kindle into anything more mortifying.

Vozu chuffs, and it’s throatier than when Sohven makes the same sound. “You’re a jealous creature, aren’t you?” he says, a hint of what might be wonder in his voice. I’m not expecting him to say anything else—I can’t look away from the men descending towards us in wide, lazy circles, their bodies still tangled up in one another. “One of my older nestmates knew Sohen.” He steadies me, curling his fingers around my bicep when I shift in surprise. “It’s why I chose to wear my vossan in his colors,” he says.

“Did you know him before?”

I can’t help but ask. I want to know the stories Sohven hasn’t told me yet, even though I can already tell they must be heavier than he let on. He’s never been the kind of man to avoid his problems, but whatever happened here kept him away for years. S’ahveki’s confirmed that he never requested leave to return before, and that as far as he knew, there were no outgoing messages to Lohnyal’s sector during Sohven’s time aboard the Little Ships.

Vozu’s still holding onto my arm when he finally answers. “No,” he whispers, “I didn’t have the honor.”

The older generation of fathers begins to land, one nest at a time. No one makes any missteps as they touch down, but some of their otherworldly grace is gone. Multiple men sway slightly, legs weak as they grasp their partners for support, eyes still blown almost full black with desire. I shift my hips as my dick starts to thicken again. The energy these lovers are putting out is like an inescapable, velvety fog. It coats me, thick and intoxicating. I don’t even notice at first when Vozu’s wing returns to my back to keep me from melting into a messy pile of dysfunctional need.

I sneak a glance at Vozu’s groin, curious to see if I’m the only one affected this way by watching the elders. Bad idea. I should’ve known better, but now I’m staring at the wrong man’s erect dick, and he’s definitely noticed what I’m up to. I guess it’s better that he’s smiling about it instead of getting ready to deck me, but that definitely wasn’t the impression I wanted to give him. I quickly avert my eyes, hoping denial will carry me through any awkwardness.

Luckily, the elders have turned towards us, all of them looking like they’ve been partaking of a little too much Jhichax whiskey. Sohven’s biggest dad runs his eyes over me before he looks behind him, smiling at the one who applied my vossan markings. I’m a bit put out when I see the way he grins back at his larger mate. He was polite towards me, well, let’s say civil, but he never loosened up that much. I don’t think I got a relaxed smile like that the entire time we were together.

They’re coming straight for me, or at least the group of us painted in red. It’s probably just my human hubris that has me thinking I’m the center of this upcoming ritual.

“Our Sohen is blessed by the winds to have so many fine men seeking entrance to his nest,” the gazla father announces, satisfaction practically bleeding off him as he surveys us.

“You did well with his vossan, Illson,” says one of the others with a horn tip towards me. He didn’t speak to me when I first met them, but his expression is open and friendly, unlike the prickly father I ended up with earlier. Illson—I’ll have to remember that name.

“Yes, he’s remarkably similar to us if you don’t consider his lack of wings and horns. The poor thing is almost entirely defenseless,” Illson replies, flicking the barest glance in my direction. A subtle smile tugs at the edges of his mouth. It kind of makes me want to throw a punch, but there’s no way I’m losing control like that when Sohven wanted us to be here so badly.

“When will Sohen arrive?” I know the answer since Vozu already told me, but I don’t want to hear them talk about me like I’m a defective volch stud any longer, so a change of topic is in order.

“Soon, young one,” the gazla father tells me, looking all kindly and shit like someone’s grandpa, not that I ever knew much about that.

“Not so young,” I snap back, regretting it when three of the four dads frown at me like I’m a strange insect writhing on the ground, legs wiggling in the air as I rock around on the back of my shell. They don’t seem to know quite what to do with me, but I can tell I make them uneasy.

“No?” the nice looking one says.

“No. Sohen and I are around the same age.”

The gazla and the friendly father both chuff, doing nothing to hide their amusement. “Then you’re still young to us. Our child may be taking up his responsibilities to his clan even later than we expected, but he’s still our nestling. Once he finishes the festival’s rituals, he’ll earn official standing as a full adult among us.”

I have the feeling Sohven wouldn’t be pleased to hear that his parents still think of him as a child. Believe me, Sohven has done things over the past few years since I’ve known him that prove his maturity five times over. No one among our crew would ever think of him as some blundering youth, but I’m wise enough to bite my tongue—this time.

“I still remember our trials, gazla,” Illson says with a knowing look at his mate. He turns towards us, deigning to give us his full attention for the first time since they arrived. “Remember these days well. There’s nothing that compares to the formation of your nest.”

The Lohnya surrounding me are smiling shyly with their wings all aflutter at Illson’s words. If they could blush, I’m sure they’d be rosy-cheeked, too. I wish they’d just listen to me. They’re all going to be sorely disappointed, and I’m feeling serious guilt about them missing out on their chance to form a family this season.

The fourth father, the quiet one, turns to look off towards the peak in the distance. I follow his gaze and see nine Lohnya circling their way up around the prominence. I don’t get many chances to watch Sohven fly during our day-to-day lives, but I recognize him instantly. A small tremor spreads through my body. I know what it feels like to be held in his arms as his wings pump, forcing us higher into the sky, but it’ll be different here. I’ve never experienced a flight in open air like this, where I can see exactly how far I have to fall.

“Do you see him?” I hear one of the others murmur excitedly.

They talk amongst themselves as I grip the shiny, irregular beads roped around my neck. I don’t join in with the chatter. I’ll be giving Sohven these beads tonight, but so will twelve other men. I hope he’s found a way to handle the shit storm coming our way, because at this point it’s an inevitability, but I fear he’s just as lost here as I am.

This is the world that made my big guy feel small and wrong, that confined and trapped him until he couldn’t breathe right under the weight of their expectations. The thought of anyone or anything breaking him down like that again makes me frantic. The alien paint itches where it marks me, the sensation like a thousand tiny ants running across my skin. I can barely manage to stand still, but I do it.

I’ll make myself endure anything for him. I know he’d do the same for me.