Chapter 25

“What a mess you’ve made.”

Morgan kept his head demurely down, but inside he was trying not to seethe. That was a rich statement coming from someone who’d been so lost in his own mind for over a decade that he’d been unable to lead. He was glad Sariel was well again but less than happy to be the chosen sacrifice for the clan’s unity.

“A mess the likes of which this clan hasn’t seen in many years,” Sariel went on. Rozyne stood to his left, Garen to his right, both of them in their formal attire. Rozyne looked very happy with the situation while Garen looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. Brevaer stood behind Morgan, a staunch and silent ally. At least Morgan had him to lean on; Auban hadn’t been allowed into the chief’s hut. “To bring someone you thought was human onto our sacred land—”

Sacred ever since we moved here, at least—

“To give them aid and kindness in the face of all their terrible acts against us—”

Yep, because too much kindness is definitely the problem here—

“To hide them from your fellows and go so far as to claim them as your mate … it’s so far-fetched that I have a hard time believing it, and yet believe it I must. There are too many witnesses who corroborate your actions.”

Witnesses who are only alive because Auban saved them. Morgan took a deep breath and looked up at his chief. Sariel was recovering from his time as a madman, but his hair was as white as the underside of a shell, and his limbs were thin and wiry in a way that seemed to defy taking on weight. Yet his eyes, which had been dazed and crazed for so long, were clear.

“If I might be allowed to speak in my defense?” he asked.

“I’m not through laying out your crimes yet,” Sariel replied. “You fought your brother, our clan’s best warrior and trainer, for the right to your illicit relationship. You only left to take your lover away once you had no choice in the matter.” He shook his head. “You gave your heart to a human. How can such a thing be borne?”

“I didn’t, though,” Morgan insisted. “Auban was never a human despite how he looked on the outside. He was only among them in an effort to protect our people from harm, which he’s done not once, but twice now! I fell in love with a member of the Brindarra, not a human. My heart recognized his suitability as my mate even if my mind didn’t.”

“Your mind didn’t seem to have much of a problem with it,” Rozyne said dryly.

“I was afflicted with terrible guilt,” Morgan replied, which was … kind of true. Mostly. A bit. “But I could no more abandon my mate than you could abandon your family. And,” he added when Sariel’s expression went from neutral to a glower, “in the end, Auban is the one who turned the tide against the humans. Without him, our people might be completely wiped out. Surely you can’t doubt his suitability as not only my mate, but one of the greatest defenders of our clan?”

Brevaer coughed lightly, a signal that Morgan was going a bit too far. He didn’t really care, though. “He fought for us when he could have stayed apart,” he went on. “He protected us despite the threat to his life. Auban is not an enemy, he never was, and I love him with everything I have. I won’t be parted from him.”

“No,” Sariel said after a moment. “I can see that you won’t. But the two of you must depart nonetheless.”

Garen gasped, and Morgan felt his brother stiffen at his back. His own heart skipped a beat. Surely not … not after everything they’d been through, not after all that Auban had done for them. Please, no …

“Your deceit requires punishment,” Sariel went on. “But it’s not dire enough for exile. Therefore, I decree that you and your mate are sentenced to one year living apart from the village.”

One year apart … what did that mean? “Like … on the Spit?” Morgan asked tentatively.

“That awful, windy little slip of land?” Sariel made a face. “Not unless you truly wish to make that your choice. No, I was thinking something a bit closer to home. I understand there’s a beach that you’ve made into quite the hideaway.”

Morgan felt his heart begin to rise. “Yes …”

“I think that should suffice. You’ll need to make a shelter there—a temporary one, since you won’t be living there forever. You won’t be required to contribute to farming efforts since you’ll lack access to the fields out there, but you’ll have to hunt for the good of the whole village.”

“I—yes, we can do that.”

“And you won’t be allowed to come into the village at all.”

Oh, that would be hard. Not seeing Garen and Brevaer as they bumbled their way through courtship …

“But citizens in good standing will be allowed to visit you.” Sariel smiled. “To ensure that you’re behaving with humility and penitence, of course.”

“You’re so soft,” Rozyne muttered, but there was no bite to the words.

“Ah.” Morgan blinked. “I’m …” Not sure I understand this as a punishment. It kind of feels like you’re setting me up for a year-long honeymoon with my mate.

Sariel’s smile fell away. “There are so few of us,” he said softly. “Fewer still who find a mate who suits their heart as you have. I would never send you away forever, Morgan. You’re the son of my closest friend, and our families will soon be joined.” He glanced at Garen, who was blushing furiously and trying to pretend he wasn’t. “There are still factions within our people who require appeasing, but what they want isn’t as important as keeping our clan whole and healthy. I remember the beautiful things you made as a child.”

Morgan nodded, not quite able to keep up with the non-sequitur. “Yes.”

“Now more than ever, our people need beauty in their lives. That’s the other task I lay upon you while you and your mate spend your time apart—create things that will bring us joy, that will bring light to our spirits. Give us something to look at that isn’t a broken home or a filthy beach. Use your love to shape works of the heart.”

To hear his useless skill for art so explicitly praised almost brought tears to Morgan’s eyes. “I shall,” he said roughly. “I promise. Auban and I will use this time to work hard for the betterment of our people.”

“That’s what I ask.” Sariel inclined his head, then said, “You’ll need to build fast if you’re to get a hut up before winter. I suggest you start today. Use rocks if you can—that little promontory is covered in them, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“Then use our strongest warriors to help you.” He gestured to his son and Brevaer. “You have a week before your time apart begins. Use it wisely.”

“I will.”

“Go, then.”

Morgan turned, a bit unsteady on his feet, and walked outside the hut, Brevaer at his back. Auban was waiting for him there, with children hanging from his arms and another on his shoulders. He’d proven a great entertainment among the children of the village, but he gently set them aside the moment Morgan appeared and came over to him. He looked so good, Morgan reflected as Auban took him into his arms. Strong and recovered … still scarred, but those were simply the lines that meant he’d survived.

“What did the chief say?” he asked, sounding concerned. “You look so dazed.”

“More like amazed at his own good fortune,” Brevaer said gruffly. “I’ll get started pulling everything I can spare out of our home.” He walked away, and Auban tilted Morgan’s face up to look into his eyes.

“What does he mean by that?” Auban asked.

Morgan laughed. “He means that we’re going to have a little adventure,” he said, wrapping his arms around Auban’s waist and squeezing. “In a place I’ve come to be quite fond of. I’ll tell you all about it on the way to Brev’s house.” A house which would never truly be Morgan’s home again, but that was all right.

He was about to create a new one, after all.