Chapter 15

Remaining still is a challenge.I slept surprisingly well after last night’s opening rites, but I’m restless this morning. Waking up in my fathers’ nest with my cock hard and my unas dripping mating fluid like a faucet only added to my profound discomfort. I can explain it away by recalling Jhevase’s shameless, glorious display in the pools, but I came last night along with him. So much gathered heat shouldn’t still simmer beneath my hide today.

“Your human is assimilating better than I expected.” When I look at my gazla father, he’s smiling softly. “If he weren’t so devoted, you might have to worry that one of the other gazlas might lure him away. You’re not the only one who appreciates his unnatural beauty.”

Unnatural. Of course, they would see it that way. I suppose it’s a relief that my people have accepted him so readily. I still remember what they always said about outsiders. It could’ve been worse, far worse, and they’d turn that word back on me quick enough if they knew how I felt last night, how the sight of other Lohnya eyes on my mate made my anger burn almost as hot as my desire. Jace may look strange to them, but I’m the one who rejected their values and their traditions, even if they never understood how fully I denied them.

“He’s not just a pretty man,” I say, but there’s no bite to the rebuke. The trials will start soon, and if I let myself dwell on it, I’ll grow ill with worry. “What will the water trial be for this festival?”

Illson and my gazla share an indecipherable look, and fear closes around my neck, pulling tighter the longer they remain silent.

“Tell me now.”

Kal, my quietest father answers first. “They’re clearing the sahvatso from Jovas Lake.”

I’m on my feet immediately, racing toward the tunnel that will lead me back to the sand pits where Jace and the others spent the night.

“Stop!”

Before I can reach the doorway, my gazla father’s large frame blocks me. He grabs my arms and holds me in place, giving the others time to come up behind me. A slight hand presses against my fluttering wings.

“Calm yourself, Sohen,” says Illson. “He won’t be alone. It’s unlikely he’ll ever even be within reach of a sahvatsu’s snout. The others who’ve declared for you won’t let him face any risks alone. They’ve seen how possessive you act around the human. He’ll be in no danger.”

“The lake was cleared four years ago. There will be enough sahvatso for good sport, but the majority of the hunters won’t even have a chance to make a kill,” adds Kal.

My body trembles, but I breathe deeply and focus on their words. Everything they’ve told me is reasonable, yet I still don’t want him to participate in the trial.

“What else do you have planned? What other trials will he face?” I ask stiffly.

“Go sit,” says my gazla father, giving my chest a push for good measure.

“I can’t relax without knowing he’ll make it through the festival safely. I would’ve never convinced him to come here with me if I thought he’d be threatened.”

“No one is threatening your human.” Illson’s ears flick back like I’m being ridiculous, but I don’t see how he can’t understand why I’m so agitated.

“This isn’t his home. He’s been trained for planet-side operations, but he was born on a space station. You’re just thrusting him into our rituals without any preparations. I won’t forgive you if he’s hurt.”

“If you thought he was too weak to endure our trials, you should’ve left him on his space station,” replies Illson. He always was the one I had the hardest time obeying, whose words were the most difficult to accept.

“That’s not what I meant. He’s not weak, but he is more vulnerable than the others.”

“Enough, Sohen. He’s agreed to the trials and we’ve already reassured you he won’t be hurt,” snaps Illson. “Sit and eat. We won’t have long to wait before you need to join the other gazlas in the viewing chamber.”

“Afterwards, you’ll need to start preparing your nest,” adds Hanen as he brings me a cone filled with fragrant roasted meat.

“Thank you, father,” I tell him, settling back onto the edge of one of the sloped blocks covering the nest floor.

Even before I left, I’d been too old to be allowed within the sleeping area of my fathers’ nest. They’re humoring me, showing their favor, but I can’t even enjoy it, not with worries for Jace’s safety still swirling through my mind. I give the cone a quick sniff—fabva. Imagining one of the great ocean beasts it came from shrivels my appetite. We don’t eat sahvatso, but the creatures are too similar for me not to be reminded of the upcoming hunt.

They’re right though. There’s nothing I can do except outright forbid him from participating in the trials, and then we might as well leave now. I don’t exclude that as a possibility, but this should be the most hazardous of the trials, and I know it’s true that Vozu and the little envoy will protect Jace. Even those who haven’t declared for me will do their best to keep the outsider among us from harm. They all saw the way he struggled to walk over the small pebbles on the path to the feasting grounds yesterday evening. He may be brave, but my people can clearly see his physical weaknesses. They don’t know enough about humans yet to understand that his species has other ways of surprising those who underestimate them.

Kal and Hanen have their heads together as they watch me. I tip my head back and shake a few pieces of the fabva meat into my mouth. It’s like chewing sand right now, but I force it down. I need to make an effort so that we can leave. At least the viewing area is in the open air so I can easily fly to him if I need to get away.

“I’m ready. I wish to see my mate complete his trials,” I tell them as I stand back up and head for the nest’s main entrance. I stride through the illusion of mist that gives my parents some semblance of privacy. I don’t wait for them to catch up.

I don’t even have to think about which way to go. I was away for years, yet my feet still remember the path. I could walk it without the dim lights marking the length of the home tunnels, and I don’t understand why that knowledge makes me so angry. I suppose part of me thinks it shouldn’t feel so easy to reclaim this life, not when it hurt so much to leave it.

The sun is already absurdly bright when I reach the open cliff. I’m not as used to natural light anymore. The way I have to blink it away and turn my head to avoid it is overwhelming. Voices bounce and echo in the distance, and if I didn’t already know where the viewing chamber was, I’d be forgiven for going the wrong way. Sound tends to function differently here in the eyrie. It’s always been difficult to trust my senses in Fallil.

I go right, leaping into the air to cut down the distance. Stretching my wings properly feels good, and I need the practice. I only have a few more days to wait until Jace and I can complete our mating flight, and I’m probably the most ill-prepared gazla here. None of them had the disadvantage of being ship-bound for the majority of the past year.

It’s so tempting to drift out past the cliff and scan the horizon for Jovas Lake. I don’t recall all of the old landmarks, but I’ll recognize the lake when I see it. It’s the largest one within an easy flight from the eyrie, and we all adored swimming there as younglings. Even if I didn’t immediately see the big body of water, the surface a slick mirror reflecting the pale morning sun, I’d know the place from the number of Lohnya slowly landing in one concentrated area along the shoreline.

I sharp whistling cry forces my attention back to the eyrie, and I turn, flying my way back toward the open area set up beside a sheer face of rock. It makes a good backdrop for the live images playing out in front of the other already assembled gazlas.

“Sohen! Join us. You almost missed the beginning of the trials,” one of the gazlas says with the appearance of friendliness, but I don’t trust him. I heard him talking about Jhevase last night, about how he wanted to see him stretched out in his nest for the taking, and a mouthful of muhlsa didn’t made me forget.

“What’s your use-name?” I ask after I land, a subtle reminder that he may know who I am, but he doesn’t signify enough for anyone to have informed me of his identity. I don’t like his blue markings or the dark midnight sweep of his wings.

“I’m Zeema Yahns. Even the Onavas know my clan.”

I take a seat on one of the wide, high benches before I glance back at Zeema. “Perhaps I knew one of your nestmates. Many have chosen you,” I say with a nod toward the men wearing blue vossan scurrying about on the recording playing out over the rockface.

“Yes, but more have chosen you.” He’s not looking at me, and when I follow his gaze, my eyes land on Jace where he stands behind the others, all except for the tall Lohnya at his side motioning for him to move forward.

My first instinct is to tell Zeema to look away, but if I react too strongly, it’ll only heighten the existing interest in Jace. Instead I put the other gazlas from my mind and lean forward as if it might bridge the distance separating me from Jace.

He’s one of the last to put on his breathing device. The tall one, Holan’s nestmate, assists him, fastening it at the back of Jace’s scalp. Meanwhile, Jace shifts one of our weapons in his hands, getting a good grip on it and then letting it slide back and forth as if he’s testing its weight.

He looks good, confident. I’m able to settle into the bench a little. Only now that it’s slowed do I realize how fast my heart’s been racing. It’s silly to worry. Jace has faced challenges greater than I have and overcome them. It’s just so easy to forget, to let myself see him as less than the capable man he is. I’m not okay, as Jace would say. I don’t know if I will ever entirely recover from Sannaveh, but it’s clear that returning to Lohnyal isn’t the solution I’d envisioned it’d be.

The Lohnya by the lake are entering the water. Once again, Jace holds back, but I don’t see a trace of fear in his bearing. He’s just taking his time, observing the others before he commits. The recording switches to the underwater cameras before he goes under. I glance at the other gazlas. Their gazes are fixed on the action. They look eager and excited. None of them are imagining the sharp crunch of bone or the rent and ragged flesh that would be left behind if a sahvatsu tore into one of their men. That’s because it’s all controlled and perfectly safe, exactly as my fathers told me.

Our men look tiny until they swim closer to the cameras. They’re tethered to the lights, small things most of them won’t even notice, but a few Lohnya give them a second glance. They’re anxious to display their prowess for us—they all know we’re watching.

No one needs to tell them the rules. They spread out in a rough circle, leaving the center of the lit area free. Jace is easy to find, his wingless form a startling contrast to the others’. He seems to be having more trouble staying down than the Lohnya. His arms move rapidly, and the blunt end of the harpoon jabs his thighs as he struggles to remain in place.

The other gazlas cheer when the elders judging the trials dump the bait into the water. Small chunks float down amid cloudy blood, and my muscles tense again. I can no longer see Jace. He’s just another shadowy blur from this camera angle, and I hate it. There’s movement from within the chum. Something’s disturbing it. The brief flash of the glowing edge of a sahvatsu’s tail confirms the hunt is on.

A small Lohnya aims his harpoon, but someone else hits it first. The animal thrashes, its wicked tail almost catching a few men as the successful hunter pulls it in. The body goes still as he begins ascending, eager to display his kill for the elders waiting at the lakeshore.

The sahvatso aren’t deterred by our men or the death of their brother. Now that the scent of the bait is powerful enough they can taste it, there’s no stopping them. They’re coming out in greater numbers, and by the time the trial is over, the lake will be clear of all sahvatso large enough to pose a threat. Maybe Jace won’t mind taking a private swim later. I want to feel the steady weight of him wrapped up in my body as we take to the winds, to slip limb against limb cradled by cool water. I want to show him my world alone, the way I’d always dreamed.

I’ve looked away again, but the sudden cries of the gazlas have me turning my head back towards the rock face. My chest seems to collapse. I fall forward, arms catching on my thighs as I gulp down air, yet I still can’t manage to breathe.

Someone keens, the sound low and eerie amid the unnatural silence. None of us can speak. We’re all watching, helpless, just like the Lohnya in the lake, all of them seemingly unaware of the giant sahvatsu heading straight for Jace.

The creature’s jaw is already wide open, ready to strike. Jace is too close to it to get away. He barely has room to bring his arm back to ready his weapon. My body shakes, and the panic pouring through me only serves to lock my feet into place. I’m standing, so I must’ve risen from the bench, but I can’t go any further. I need to see what happens next. There’s no possible way for me to get down to the lake in time to save him, so I tremble and jerk, unable to look away.

Those too-large teeth are going to close over his bicep before they tear his flesh.

Jhevase.

I’ll lose him in the most horrific way, and it will be no one’s fault but my own.

“Sohen! Look!” someone calls. “He’s getting away.”

No, he’s not. I know Jhevase better than any of them, and the ridiculous movement he pulls off isn’t meant to provide him an escape. He’s lunging towards the creature, coming in from the side. He’s attempting to stop one of the largest sahvatsu I’ve ever seen with an unfamiliar weapon, and I can’t see how it won’t end in disaster.

The others have been forgotten. Whoever’s controlling the cameras has narrowed their focus to Jace and the massive sahvatsu, and we can see its horrible features in nauseating detail.

“Please,” I whisper into the air, my prayers coming too late to make a difference to the winds.

Jace pulls his arm back and thrusts. It’s going to bounce off the sahvatsu’s hide or hit bone. Something will go wrong. I’m already breaking down from the inevitability of it. The stone beneath my feet has endured for eons. It’s strong enough to do the job for me if Jace dies. A closed-wing leap from the peak would ensure I follow him into the next world.

I still can’t help but watch.

Jace doesn’t miss. His harpoon strikes the animal behind the eyes. Its body swallows up half the length of the shaft, and he slams his hand over the butt end of it, pushing it almost entirely inside the sahvatsu. I’ve never seen anything like it. His face isn’t visible, but his muscles strain and bunch as he shifts his grip to the rope wound around his wrist. He curls his body up until he can press his feet against the sahvatsu’s scaley hide.

My fist tightens, talons scraping the outside of my thigh. His delicate skin will be marked by the sharp edges of those scales and reddened with irritation by the animal’s secretions. Why doesn’t he find someone to help him bring in his kill? Why is he putting himself closer to the creature?

The others are talking again, but it sounds like nonsense, like unintelligible muttering. Their voices grow louder and recede again like the song of wind crossing the eyrie.

I see it now—why he risked bracing himself against the sahvatsu.

The animal’s struggling to snap its tail towards Jace. The deceptively delicate looking appendage is fully split now, allowing the sahvatsu to bring it almost halfway up the side of its body. The glowing ends come far too close to Jace for comfort. If one of the other men took a tail slap to the torso, it’d sting and perhaps leave some marks, but he’s more vulnerable than us.

“Why won’t they help him?”

The others turn to stare, and I realize I spoke aloud. I’m shaking, wings rustling wildly, but I can’t control it.

“They will. See?” says Zeema. He lifts two fingers to point to the recording. “The sahvatsu can’t reach him. He’s clever, your human.”

I’m so wrung out that even the open admiration in Zeema’s voice doesn’t raise my ire. I manage to take a step forward and focus. He’s right. Jace still has his body wedged against the sahvatsu, but someone else”s hands are wrapped over his, and they’re starting to move through the water together. The animal’s tail is limp now. It must finally be fading. Jace’s aim was true, and the others around me are chuffing and rubbing fingers like it’s all just been some good entertainment.

There’s only one place I want to be now. I turn away from the viewing area and start running. Someone grabs at the side of my wing, but I don’t let them stop me.

“You’re not that special, Onava! You’re still required to follow the rules of the festival!”

It’s probably Zeema shouting after me, and his complaints are echoed by the others, but I don’t have time for them. Whether it’s fair or right doesn’t come into question—I’ve waited long enough. I need to see Jace myself and ensure he’ll forgive my poor judgment.

The way clears, and I run faster, spreading my wings. That first moment when I leave the ground behind still has the power to punch the breath right out of my chest, but I simply absorb the wonder of it and pump my wings, aiming high above the eyrie. I’ll worry about enjoying the luxury of flying once I know for certain Jace is unharmed.

It was easy enough to ignore the others calling out in protest, but the sight of my four fathers lined up at the edge of the cliffside isn’t something I can brush aside. They stand with spread wings, their horns tilted forward in that forbidding way I’d almost forgotten. My gazla father takes to the air, but I just fly harder. No one’s keeping me from Jhevase.

The further I go, the easier it is to block out the cries behind me. The winds are bright and loud today, and they’re all I hear. Jovas Lake is up ahead to my left. Several Lohnya are gathered on the far bank, but I can’t make out any details. I wish I had one of S’ahveki’s devices with me. We have equipment aboard the Queen that would easily enhance my vision, but I didn’t think to bring any of our tech with me, unlike Jace. I know he has secrets packed away in that bag of his.

I’m drawing closer, near enough to see the first few sahvatso bodies laid out on the shore. Proud Lohnya stand at their heads. One of them has his weapon wedged in the ground, his hip propped up against it. Something about the easy pose reminds me of Jace, and my throat tightens. It all looks so calm from above. No one would know there’s a frenzy playing out below the surface.

I keep my arms tight against my chest and let myself dive. It’s a risky move for a Lohnya who’s been ship-bound for years. Although my body knows just what to do, I don’t feel like I’m in control any longer. Still, I don’t pull up. Not yet. I’m going to be there for Jace the moment he steps out of the water.

The Lohyna on the ground have noticed me. Their heads tip back. A few point in my direction. The elders move closer together, conferring over the problem about to land in their midst. I don’t care. Let them look—let them tell me I’m wrong. It’s nothing they haven’t done before.

I straighten out and spread my wings. I grit my teeth. It’s harder than I anticipated, but I manage it, regaining control before becoming intimately acquainted with the ground. I drift out over the lake, using the time to slow down enough to land safely. My body casts a dark, looming shadow over the glimmering water, and that old wound resurfaces—the memory of Jace looking at me like I was something monstrous. He tells me it isn’t true, that he never thinks of me that way, but those nights he wakes up wild-eyed and frantic tell a different story.

My wings freeze in place almost a moment too long when the black outline of Lohnya horns breaks the surface directly below me. I start to drop before I catch myself. A second head appears, the face obscured by an identical breathing device. The two men are so close they look like they’re embracing. Their bodies remain beneath the water, the dark bulk of a sahvatsu blocking the view of their limbs. I can’t be certain one of them is Jace, but it’s likely.

I hurry to reach the shore first. When I land, my talons dig into the damp soil at the lake’s edge. Dirt spits up around me, and the others nearby make noises of disapproval and distress. I keep my wings held out and back, head down and horns displayed. I dare any of them to say anything to me directly, but they won’t. There have been times when I’ve hated my size, when I’ve wished more than anything others didn’t see me and instinctively categorize me as a threat, but today, I’m happy to be fearsome.

When Jace and the Lohnya at his side reach the shallow waters, they’re struggling to bring in the sahvatsu. I curse the vossan my father painted on his skin, because I can’t tell which markings are by design and which were left by the dead predator he’s dragging behind him. My vision blurs, the red lines all merging into one, until it’s as if his entire body is engulfed in blood. The world goes shaky, and the colors grow too bright, the sounds too jarring.

Other Lohyna step into the lake to help them, splashing up muddy water and placing more distance between us. I need to see his face. I know it’s him, but the mask with its false horns makes my stomach swirl with unease. It’s wrong, an abomination. I’ve never wanted to change him, to make him other than who he is. I don’t want him to slide into this world so easily. I want it to chafe, for his rough edges to remain abrasive. He was never meant for Lohnyal, for Fallil Eyrie.

Jace was meant for me.

His head stills. I can’t see his blue eyes behind the breathing device’s dark visor, but I can feel the intensity of his regard. He turns his face towards his companion and says something too softly for me to catch the words, and then they both lift the body up higher, biceps straining and the muscles in their forearms popping as they broaden their strides. At this rate, he’ll be at the shore in another ten steps.

“Jhevase.” I call his name, but my voice is weak.

He walks faster, nothing graceful about it. The two of them splash through the water, their movements punctuated by a few low grunts, before they heave the body ashore along with the help of three others at the tail. I feel unsteady on my feet even as my talons dig deeper into the ground when I see the true size of the sahvatsu. It’s unfathomable that he took such a creature by himself, yet I saw it happen along with the rest of the eyrie.

Jace shoves the breathing device back. It shades his face, but does nothing to hide the way his lips twitch up into a little smirk. His eyes track my body, from chest to feet and back up again. Then he gives his head a little side to side shake before he lets go of the rope fastened to the harpoon and yanks off the wrist cuff. He takes a few more brisk steps forward, and then he’s in my arms.

He feels so good, solid and whole. He’s too cold to the touch, but I won’t let him stay that way. I’m breathing against his neck, my head tucked down against his skin. I must be saying something, because he squirms and laughs, the sound full of breath and air, before one of his hands clamps down over the back of my head, drawing me even closer.

“Stop it—that tickles.” He laughs again before he sighs, his body melting against mine while he hums. “I missed you,” he tells me, voice dropping low, molten and rich. “I missed this.” His arms tighten around me, letting me know just what he means.

“Me too.” I pull back reluctantly to get a good look at him. He appears fine, maybe a little thinner around his cheeks, a bit paler than usual. “How are your feet? Did its scales hurt you?” I push the breathing device the rest of the way off his head, and it falls behind him with a soft splash. He tries to turn, perhaps in a fruitless attempt to catch it, but I don’t let him move. “Stay. Come away from the water. I’ll fly you back to the eyrie so you can warm up.”

He frowns. “I’m good.” Jace glances side to side, brow tightening. “I didn’t think we were supposed to be touching yet.”

Despite his words, he doesn’t let go.

“I could’ve lost you,” I say, tracing the side of his face with my hand, “and I’m the one who brought you here.”

Others are talking again. A few of the elders are moving in, working their way towards us with pinched faces and restless wings.

“Maybe it was more of a challenge than I was expecting, but it’s over now, no harm done, right?” he says quickly before the others reach us. He’s already loosening the arms he has crossed behind my neck as a small group of elders approaches.

“Gazlas aren’t permitted to touch any prospective mates until the final rites of the fertility festival.” The one who speaks is unfamiliar to me. I don’t know whether I simply forgot the man, or if he’s a new member of our community. It isn’t common for Lohnya past fertile age to switch eyries.

I keep my hands on Jace, but he steps back, trying to shrug off my grip. “I’m taking him back with me to the eyrie. He needs medical attention.”

Jace’s eyes shift skyward—rolling his eyes, he calls it. I shudder lightly. I’ve always found the gesture unnerving, but he claims it doesn’t hurt. It expresses his contempt for an idea or opinion, but just because he doesn’t like what I’ve said, doesn’t mean it isn’t true.

“We have medics here. Step away from Jace Cesari and allow our people to verify his health,” replies the same elder.

Another man I vaguely recognize from lessons on gazla protocol during my last few years on Lohnyal lifts and flaps his wings to draw my attention. “Gazla Sohen, you should be proud of Jace’s admirable hunting skills. He honored you with his choice,” he says solemnly. “Any gazla would desire such a mate to join their nest.”

Jace is shaking his head again, an irrepressible smile tugging at his lips. He kisses his palm, winces, and half laughs as he blows me the kiss. The others watch us, but they don’t understand what the gesture means. He gives me a small wave and turns back to Holan’s young nestmate before I can think of anything else to say. They stand too close, arms brushing and rubbing as they whisper between themselves. Jace looks up, meeting my eyes with a piercing stare before he lifts one eyebrow.

“You should come see the size of this sahvatsu, Sohen,” he calls out too loudly.

He’s giving me an excuse to come closer again without scrutiny from the elders, but I’m not sure it’s worth it to prolong our time here. I don’t think I have it in me to keep pretending that we haven’t already completed all of our own trials and come out together on the other side.

Another man is dragging out his sahvatsu kill, long legs powering him forward to reach us faster. When he brings the body out of the water and sets it down beside Jace’s catch, it appears ridiculously small. The man glances up at Jace standing by his sahvatsu, and then he lowers his head, his wings drooping slightly to curl over his shoulders.

“It’s still a worthy kill,” I tell him. It should be safe enough to compliment him. He doesn’t wear my colors—his vossan is pale yellow.

“You honor me, gazla,” he says hurriedly, eyes still focused downwards.

I don’t try to argue with him. Instead I take one of Jace’s hands in mine and inspect his palm. An angry red line crosses it, while his fingertips are wrinkled from too much time in the water. Delicate, defenseless human skin.

“See? Fine,” Jace repeats quietly. He bends his head and switches to the language he used during our initial arrival. “When can we talk alone? I have questions.”

“Now. I’ll take you up and back to the nest.” My greedy hands want to slip into his wet hair and tug, but I fight the impulse.

“No.” He doesn’t bother with obscure human tongues this time. “I just fought a prehistoric beast for you. I’m not giving up now unless there’s something else you’ve forgotten to tell me. I just want a chance to be with you later.”

“But your hand—it isn’t fine. You have to believe me, I didn’t know the trial would be dangerous. When they told me what you’d be doing, it was too late for me to stop it.” I keep caressing his palm, making tiny, aborted circles as I try to avoid the skin worn raw by the ropes.

“Stop,” he says, pulling his hand free. “You’re making us look bad in front of your friends, big guy.” He steps back again with a wry grin that slips too quickly. He may deny he was seriously hurt, but he’s weary, and it’s unsurprising given the size of the sahvatsu lying on the shore beside us.

“Your future mate is correct.”

My wings tremble and flare. My gazla father’s words are heavy with disapproval, and from the sound of it, he’s right behind me. That means the others likely are, too.

“Come, Sohen.” The command comes from Illson this time. “You’ve seen he’s unscathed. Celebrate his triumph as is fitting and rejoin the other gazlas.”

I slowly turn, and all four of my fathers face me, varying degrees of frustration visible in their expressions.

Something hits the side of my leg, and I startle as I glance to my right. Jace sets his foot back down and nods his head. “You should go. I’ll see you tonight.”

“That’s right. You’ll see all of those who wear your vossan again at tonight’s feast,” says Hanen. “Listen to your human.”

Jace’s mouth pinches a little at that, but he does a little shooing motion with his fingers. I like these small signs that only we recognize. I lift my palm to my mouth and kiss it, pursing my lips to blow it towards Jace. He mimes catching it, shaking his head at me like I’m ridiculous, yet his grin is broad and happy. The others can look, but they don’t understand us, and it calms me enough to step away from him.

“Until tonight,” I tell him, trusting he hears the true meaning. He’s right. We need to talk before tomorrow’s trials. I won’t have him putting himself at risk like that again, even if it means we refuse to complete the rites.

Fingers lock around my wrists, a father urging me forward on either side. I glance back, but Jace doesn’t appear to need my help. Holan’s nestmate is at his side again, and a few others have gathered nearby. The sharp bitterness of regret hits me like a wave. He wasn’t supposed to look so at home here. It was supposed to be hard. I don’t know what to do with the shifting emotions knotting themselves deep in my gut, but it wrenches something inside of me to see him take his place here, fitting more smoothly than I ever did.

Illson tugs too hard, and I stumble, my talons catching in the dirt.

“Come. Your mate is doing well. He brings honor to the Onavas. Leave him—we have much to discuss.” My gazla father lifts into the air ahead of us first, and then Illson pushes me forward. “Go. We’ll be right behind you.”

I stagger forward and spread my wings.

Tonight—I’ll see him tonight.