Zephyr and Kaël join me, carrying their game.
“Let’s finish this hunt,” I say, turning to face them. “We have a feast to prepare and a leader to feed.”
After a while, we take a brief rest. I lean against an ancient tree while Zephyr holds Kaël’s legs so he can try to clean the blood from his torso without dipping fully into the water.
Sometimes he does things I don’t understand, but I’ve stopped asking. If he wants to clean only half his body, so be it.
After Kaël falls into the stream and splashes water everywhere, including all over Zephyr, they both walk away shaking their soaked fur.
And I watch them.
“Why do I go along with your ideas, Kaël?” Zephyr sighs, squeezing his braid and twisting his paws in different directions. “Always making the same mistake.”
“His mate will have to deal with a lot,” I say with a laugh.
“I can’t stop thinking about her,” Kaël says, shaking off the water once more. “What will she be like? Will she accept me?”
Zephyr chuckles. “You worry too much, Kaël. But I wonder about mine too. What if she doesn’t like the way we live? What if she can’t adjust?”
“Humans are more adaptable than you think. Look at Noël. She knew how to make a nest and almost didn’t let me make one for her.”
Kaël sighs. “In the human-lore lessons, there were so many things I couldn’t believe. But now, after seeing a real human, I feel like I need to go through everything again. I’m not sure I know everything about them.”
“You should’ve listened to Elder Aïna’s lessons,” I say.
Kaël scratches his mane, humming in thought. “When do the cubs have their lessons with her again? Maybe I should sit in with them.”
“You’d better catch up quickly before your mate arrives and finds you studying with the young ones,” Zephyr adds, smirking. “I can’t imagine anything more embarrassing than that.”
Kaël stretches, then leans back on his elbows. He hasn’t even dried yet. “There’s just so much to learn,” he groans, shooting us a pleading look as Zephyr licks the remaining blood from his wrist. “How am I supposed to sit still and study?”
“It’s about understanding them, respecting their differences,” I say. “Noël is strong, but she still needs reassurance. She needs to feel safe. It’s abalance. You show strength, but you temper it with gentleness. That’s what they need.”
Zephyr nods. “I suppose it’s not so different from how we care for our own, just... more delicate?”
“Exactly,” I reply, leaning back against the tree trunk, the bark rough against my fur. “Humans aren’t like us. They express things differently. They need words, gestures, and small acts of care. They’re not built like we are—they’re smaller, more fragile. They don’t have fur to shield them, and their skin tears at the slightest scrape of a branch. You have to pay attention to their needs. When you do, you’ll find a way to connect.”
Kaël rolls over to Zephyr and me. “I just hope I can make my mate happy.”
“You will,” I say with confidence. “But it takes time. Noël was terrified of me at first. She thought I was some kind of monster. It wasn’t until she saw the truth—that I would never harm her—that she began to trust me.” I grin. “The first time we met, she pointed a weapon at me. Fierce little thing.”
Kaël lets out a laugh, his fangs flashing. “That’s adorable.”
My chest swells with pride. “It is. Everything about her is.”
Pushing off the tree, I stretch and motion for them to follow. “Let’s head back. I’m curious to see how she’s doing with Mina.”
24
BENEATH THE HEAVY CROWN
“Tsars rot faster than corpses when they crown themselves gods. Let him wear the crown. Let him rot beneath it.”
—Unknown
Tsar Varyán II
The candlelight glows in the cold study. Old tomes line the shelves, their spines worn from centuries of use by my ancestors. Maps and documents, detailed lands and plans known only to me, are lain across the large wooden desk. The crown is heavy on my head, and my migraines trouble me constantly.
