This is a punishment.
I am not meant to enjoy anything.
And I start to wonder if maybe that’s why I feel so…strange about the comfort Dante has been giving me.
I have enjoyed that very much.
“We can talk here,” Quilliyn says. “No one’s going to understand.”
I can’t help but give a small smile. Dante and Luca both said something like that about sign language, too. But I trust them in a way I do not trust Quilliyn. He helped me, but he’s also a member of the royal family.
I have no idea how much confidence I can put in him.
After a prolonged silence, he sighs. “I get it. I’m Jyrion’s brother. My parents are the king and queen. Everyone thinks I’m just like them?—”
“I do not think that.” The words erupt from my throat before I can stop them. My ears flick in embarrassment, but he just laughs.
“If you say so.”
I turn my head to study him. He’s not nearly as winded as I am, and he’s running so much faster. It’s clear he spends a lot of time doing this. And he looks good while he’s doing it, too—wisps of hair flowing around his face, his pretty smile, his bright eyes unburdened with a painful past.
It’s a wonder Dante has not become his companion the way Everest belongs to Rathyn. They would be a perfect match.
But the idea of Dante belonging to another fills me with a strange rage. It makes me want to leap across this exercise machine and dig my claws into Quilliyn’s neck until he bleeds out.
Quilliyn’s ears flick again as he studies me. “Did something happen?”
I close my eyes for a long beat to calm myself, then I say, “I do not understand human affection. And I do not understand why it affects me the way it does.”
His mouth settles into a grin, fangs poking over his lower lip. “You feel a connection to a human.”
I don’t want to answer, but it’s far too late now, so I incline my head just once.
“It is Dante, yes?” he asks.
I feel my entire body heat, but there’s no point in lying to him. I can only hope that this will not ruin what little peace I have managed to find with my human. “It is.”
He’s silent for a moment, and then he smiles. “I understand how alien it feels.”
That is a surprise. I have never seen him with a human before. “You do?”
“I’ve had…” He stops like he’s searching for a word. “Encounters with humans. I’ve explored their courting rituals and the way they are with each other, even if the relationship is platonic. They touch a lot.”
I nod almost frantically. “So much touching. The first time Everest gave me a hug, I did not know what to do with myself. I thought he was trying to disarm me.”
Quilliyn laughs, the sound trilling in the back of his throat loudly. A few humans look over, but after a moment, their attention returns to their own running. “I know the feeling. It’s hard to trust that they mean well. Especially because some of them don’t.”
I bristle. “How can you tell who is who?”
He shakes his head. “It takes practice, patience, and living with them for a while. They are just as complicated as we are. In different ways,” he adds. “Vyastil don’t use the same types of deception.”
I’ve noticed that. A Vyastil would never hesitate in telling someone they found them distasteful or unworthy of their time and attention. But so many participate in convincing the humans that the ones living in the capital are a reflection of our entire society.
And that the Tarek are the true monsters to be feared.
I don’t say this. I have no idea if Quilliyn believes that, and it’s not worth risking my neck for something that no longer matters to me. After all, I am banished. I am not allowed to see my home again.
I will never see another Tarek.
