one
CIELO
Pain. It’s all I’ve known for what feels like an age, though it has only been one first moon since they took me into custody. The devastated look on Everest’s face followed me into the prison.
It kept me up at night. It was there behind my eyelids while they beat me.
He is blaming himself, and I cannot allow him to do that. This is not his fault. I disobeyed direct orders. I am at fault. I was given the chance to prove myself—to protect my family and village. To show the capital that the Outerlands are not a waste of Eretharian air.
And I failed.
The fact that Everest was there to wrap me in his arms was a gift I did not reject, but I probably should have.
And thenhecame.
Dante.
The kind one. The one who gave me a language to communicate when my tongue could not form human words. His hands flow like water over submerged rocks—a beautiful dance, like silent music.
And while the nightmares still follow me, even while I’m awake, as I leave the Foundry behind, my newly disgraced, banished identity nipping at my heels, I feel some measure of comfort.
I am injured, but I will heal.
I am lost, but with the humans I have learned to call friends, I will not stay that way.
I can smell the herbs Rathyn provided Dante to help me heal. Yet another kindness I do not deserve, especially from a Vyastil of his station. After all, he was the one I disobeyed. He gave me orders to protect Everest at all costs, and I allowed my friendship to cloud my judgment.
I put Everest in danger, and for that, I should have suffered more than this.
In my haze, we eventually reach the place where Dante lives. It is across the street from his shop, a modest home that smells like him, and I stumble through the door. The pain overwhelms any grace I might possess, and as he guides me to a long sofa, I collapse with a groan I can’t hold back.
The more cognizant I become, the more aware I am of the pain and how it will last. It is not just physical, it is a brand on my soul. I have lost my home and my brothers, and I will never get them back.
“It’s okay,” Dante murmurs, in an attempt to soothe me. He kneels beside me, digging around in a small bag before producing a container of herbs. My mouth waters at the prospect of some relief. “Rathyn says these will help.”
My mouth falls open, and he lays several on my tongue. They will not cure me, but the reprieve from the agony is almost instant. It fades into a dull throb, and that allows me to breathe easier for the first time in what feels like an eternity.
I lift my hand and tip my fingers from my chin. ‘Thank you.’
He laughs. “You’re welcome. You learned fast.”
I had motivation.Hewas my motivation. But I do not tell him that. Not in signs, not in my poor attempt to speak his language. Closing my eyes, I let myself drift as he pulls away. I take comfort that I can hear him moving about the apartment, pouring water into a glass, the thick sound of his throat swallowing.
And then he returns to my side.
His light fingers explore my face, and I crack my one unswollen eye open to see him looming over me. His hair is still pink, braided at the sides and pulled into a low bun. His shirt falls over one shoulder, baring it to me. I enjoy this look on him very much.
I would enjoy it so much more if I were not so injured.
“So, ah…not to be, you know, indelicate, but I’m not sure how we do this.”
I make a questioning noise in the back of my throat and try to sit up. I do not know what he speaks of.
His cheeks turn a beautiful dark pink. It reminds me of the zyrlune flower when it blooms. Then he gestures down at where his human cock is hidden beneath his clothes.
It is still odd to me that their cocks are out in the open with no protection. I fear something so precious may become easily injured.
He points at it again, and I still do not understand what he means.
