“My queen insists,” I tell him, sick and triumphant at the same time that I have such a female as my mate. “She will not risk so many lives when she can risk her own instead.”
“Choose some good warriors to go with her,” he says, his voice choked with the same emotions that floods his skin—green gratitude and dark gray despair.
I nod, unable to say anything in reply, and head for the pits, mentally sorting the uninjured apprentices and warriors into a list of potential guards for the exchange. Most of those I consider are full-fledged warriors or apprentices in their final months, but a few are less experienced. Delphie will want Aqen by her side, but I worry he has not healed enough to defendher adequately. The new female, Y’len, is quick with her blades, though. All offense, no defense. And her throwing skills are unparalleled. While she has much more to learn, that aggressive style will serve my Alara well, so I add her name to the list.
When I reach the pits, I notice a cranac is gathered at one side, watching a match with fascination. It must be a good one. I shoulder my way to the rail. It’s only then that I realize Delphie is in the ring. And she’s not just standing there, she’s sparring. Unusually, it’s with a single dagger instead of a sword or pair of knives, but then what is usual about my queen?
I freeze, staring at her. She’s panting, her frame low and inelegant due to exhaustion, but her opponent, Y’len, isn’t in much better shape. Delphie is holding her own.
“She’s good,” Aqen says next to me, his tone admiring. “Natural instincts. Takes direction.”
“Whose idea was this?” I growl, and he edges away from me.
“Hers,” he says defiantly, chin jutting out. “She wanted to learn. She knows she’s not a warrior, Jara. She’s not trying to be. We were just showing her the basics in case she has to defend herself.”
I hate it. I hate thinking of her so vulnerable, of a weapon traveling toward her. I want a warrior between her and any danger. Ten of them. But I can’t deny she’s beautiful with a blade in her hand. And if she’s going to face the priests alone, she deserves any advantage I can give her.
As I watch, she dodges Y’len’s tired thrust, whirling to the side, but then she stumbles, dropping to her knee. Y’len steps toward her, arm raised, and Delphie ducks her head. At first, I think she’s bending her neck in defeat, but then she snakes out her arm, rapping the side of Y’len’s nearest knee with the flat of her blade.
“Gotcha,” she says, and Y’len throws back her head and laughs, offering her a hand and pulling her to her feet.
They embrace, and then Delphie’s gaze settles on me at the rail. The whole rooms shifts. Voices quiet. Her expression goes wary. She hands her dagger to Y’len and jogs in my direction, the red pendant of my ancestors around her neck, bouncing against her chest. Even though she fears what I’ll say and do, she runs straight toward me, her consequence.
She’s my family. My queen. Dust in my hand, light in my eyes.
“It was my idea,” she says in a rush, while she’s still in motion. She comes to a stop right in front of me, near enough that we could kiss over the rail.
“I know.”
“Don’t be mad at them.”
“I am not,” I tell her truthfully. My heart is heavy, but my mind is clear, and I know she feels the same. That’s why she’s willing to defy me to protect the ones she cares about, if necessary. That’s why she’s willing to risk herself. “I have realized that the best way to protect you is to arm you. You will meet with danger, but you will be dangerous, too.”
She inhales sharply, grabs the front of my sveli, and yanks me down to meet her mouth. Our lips crash together in a brief, fierce kiss that leaves us both panting. “I won’t do anything stupid this time,” she says.
“I know you won’t.” I motion for Y’len to join us, and to Aqen as well. “You will train with her every morning instead of your usual tasks. During this time you may use two blades,” I add to Y’len. “But during your other training sessions you are still restricted to one.”
“Yes, Jara.” They both half-bow.
“You will stand at her side during the meeting with the Eye and defend her with your lives if it comes to that. I will do everything in my power to prevent bloodshed, but you should contact your families now to speak anything unsaid.”
They bow again, deeper this time to acknowledge the honor I bestow on them. I dismiss them and hold out my hands to help Delphie climb over the rail. Careful of my claws, I lift her up. But rather than setting her on her feet, I cradle her in my arms.
“Where are we going?” she asks in surprise, when I grab her extra layers of clothing off the rail, wrap them around her like a blanket, and stride toward the exit. The apprentices and warriors part, allowing me through without objection. They avert their eyes even as they strain to watch in their peripheral vision. Usuri will finally have a queen, and they are all curious to know more about her. I am, too.
“You will train with me in the evenings,” I explain gruffly. “I want you to rest now so you are fresh for your lesson.”
“Okay.” She leans into my chest as I carry her through the passageways, and I feel a thrum of satisfaction deep within me. The improbable, impossible thing has happened: my Alara is in my arms.
“Join with me,” I say impulsively when we reach our quarters. I kick the door closed behind us and carry her to the bed. I feel wild, like I’ve chased her through the grass like the Jaras in the old times, brought her to my furs as my prey. I settle her and curl my body around hers. “Whatever I’ve done wrong, I will make amends. Whatever displeases you, we’ll leave behind. I am unfinished and unhealed and unworthy, but someone very wise taught me to ask for what I need. Please, I need you. I want you. I love you beyond reason, both what I know of you and what I have yet to discover. Join with me and be my queen until our ghosts meet the goddess.”
“Ah, Nik,” she whispers, stroking fingers over my forehead, painting my skin with her touch. “I can give you that, but first I have something to ask.”
“Anything,” I swear fervently.
“Forgive me.”
I jolt in surprise and search her face for clues to what she’s talking about. “Of course. There is nothing to forgive.”
