“I’m so sorry,” I breathed, slipping my arms around his waist and laying my head against his chest. Under my ear, the steady thud of his heart was strong and reassuring. A drumbeat that soothed my frayed nerves. “I never wanted anything like that to happen to you again.”
“It didn’t.” Diarvet kissed me gently, his large hands cradling my face, thumbs brushing away the tears that continued to fall.
“It just did,” I insisted, my voice thick. He stood in my arms, strong and whole, but the memory of his blood pooling on the floor haunted me—blood that still glinted black as oil in the harsh light.
“No,” Diarvet said softly. His deep blue eyes bored into mine with an intensity that stole my breath. “Before, when the queen tortured me, I had nothing but duty in my life, nothing to hold on to through the pain. This time, I had you and Lilibet.”His voice softened to a whisper. “All I had to do was think of you, and the pain was nothing. No matter what Qurbaga did to my body, he couldn’t touch my heart and soul. That belongs to you and our daughter.”
“I love you so much,” I murmured, the words inadequate for the depth of emotion flooding through me.
“I love you, my mate,” he replied, his voice rough with feeling.
He kissed me thoroughly, and I gave myself over to it completely, reveling in his strength and the familiar taste of him—wild and dangerous and utterly mine. We could have stood there for minutes or hours, lost in each other, the rest of the world fading away. Finally, the pointed sound of Binwee clearing her throat broke us apart.
She stared at us with obvious impatience, one dark blue brow arched in sardonic question, her arms crossed over her chest. She might only be three feet tall, but the Framaddi female was a force to be reckoned with.
“Diarvet, this is Binwee,” I introduced her, still breathless from his kiss.
“Binwee Jazarazant, senior operative for Asad Intelligence,” she told him with a curt, professional nod.
“I have heard good things about Asad Intelligence,” Diarvet replied, offering a respectful nod of his own. “Siemba of House Asad is a good male.”
“Yeah,” Binwee agreed, but her expression darkened into a troubled frown, her eyes growing distant. “But he’s going to be pissed you killed Qurbaga, especially since the other male doesn’t seem to be around.”
“Do you mean the human male?” Diarvet’s voice sharpened with interest.
I started at his words, surprise jolting through me. “You saw him?”
“No,” my mate frowned, his eyes growing hard as he recalled the encounter. “I did not lay eyes on him, but I caught his scent.” His expression softened as he leaned over and inhaled deeply from my hair, his breath warm against my scalp. “Not as lovely as yours, but definitely human.”
“Do you know why he was here?” Binwee asked, her tone all business.
Diarvet’s frown returned, deeper this time, and his arm tightened around me as though trying to shield me from what came next. “He was here to get Lilibet.” A faint growl rumbled deep in his throat, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Qurbaga and he seemed to be in league together. I will need to relay what I overheard of their conversation to the Alliance Prime.”
“And me,” Binwee insisted, to which Diarvet agreed with a surprisingly warm grin.
“Of course.” He glanced toward the doorway, his expression tactical, eyes scanning for threats. “But now we need to concentrate on getting past the other guards.”
Binwee snorted out a laugh, the sound rich with dark amusement. “That won’t be a problem.”
I told Diarvet about Binwee poisoning the guards and how Tark sent his warriors to gather the others and take care of the scouts roaming the jungle, as well as the expected arrival of theBardagain a few hours. As if knowing we were talking about him, Tark joined the conversation with a blast of rapid chittering, his tongue clicking with obvious satisfaction, chest puffed with pride.
“Yes,” Diarvet agreed, giving the Peecha chieftain an approving pat on his shoulder. “The Peecha are at home in the jungle. It will be easy for them to strike unseen and unheard.”
“Ugh,” Binwee grumbled, stepping hastily to the side as the encroaching pool of Qurbaga’s blood lapped at her feet. “I guess I’d better get somebody to clean this mess up.”
“I need to clean up as well.” Diarvet glanced down at his blood-stained clothes. “I do not want to be bloody when we see our daughter.”
Our daughter. The words were a prayer, a promise, and the answer to Lilibet’s deepest wish. We were safe, together, and soon we would travel to our new home, just as she had wanted.
A family.
Chapter 18
Diarvet
Jolie and I retreated to the treehouse, leaving Binwee to oversee the royal barge. The Peecha tasked themselves with cleaning up the landscape while the freed harem slaves milled about in small clusters, helping where they could. Some of them, I noticed, had claimed weapons from the fallen Kwado guards and now carried blades and blasters with a newfound determination in their eyes, as if daring anyone to try to re-enslave them.
The walk to the treehouse caused Jolie's face to twist with a frown, her usual graceful stride faltering as she took in the landscape around us. The devastation from the Kwado invasion was everywhere. Scorched earth, broken vegetation, and splintered trees. The small garden Jolie and Lilibet had so happily tended was now reduced to broken stems, crushed leaves, and squashed produce. The treehouse itself had survived surprisingly well, showing no more damage than broken railings, loose thatching and boards, as if it had weathered nothing worse than a windstorm. We would repair it. The treehouse was now as precious to me as it was to Vraxxan and Lucy.
