Page 103 of Enslak

The scent hit me first.

Flowers. Sweet and floral. Like the night-blooming ones that grew wild in Vaktaire's valleys. Mother must've found a way to cultivate them here, or something similar.

The familiarity of it punched through my chest.

Memory surfaced without warning. Sudden and complete.

I was seven, running through those valleys with Charick and Kavak. Our laughter echoing off the mountains. Father had taken us camping to teach us to track. To hunt. Mother had stayed behind at the lodge, but when we returned at sunset, she'd been waiting. Flowers woven into her hair. Her voice warm with love.

"My precious boys."

I'd forgotten that.

Forgotten so much.

But standing here now, breathing in that familiar scent, it all came rushing back with such clarity it made my chest ache.

The sitting room was exactly as fragments of memory told me it should be. Cozy. Lived-in. Not the formal receiving chambers Mother used for official business. This was her private space.

Soft cushions in deep burgundy and gold scattered across low seating. Woven tapestries hung on the walls, depicting the mountains of Vaktaire—my true home before everything fell apart. A small table in the corner held smooth river rocks, the ones we used to collect as children during summer trips to the northern territories.

They were all there.

Mother sat in a velvet chair with Cullen beside her, both wearing the formal robes of the Alliance Prime. But despite the regalia, her face was soft. Vulnerable. Her eyes already bright with unshed tears as she looked at me.

Charick and Kavak stood on the other side in Alliance military dress, their uniforms marking their rank and station. Charick bore the marks of a chieftain and a new scar along his jaw that I didn't remember—recent enough that it was still pink.

Kavak's hand kept moving to his collar in a nervous habit I recognized from childhood.

Two human females were with them.

Olivia, Kavak's mate, had bright blue eyes and an easy smile. Beside her stood Willa, Charick's mate, with long brown hair and a soft, comfortable presence.

But what made my breath catch was the small child sitting on Willa's lap.

The boy appeared to be two or three years old, with Charick's dark hair sticking up in adorable tufts and curious gold eyes that matched mine exactly. He wore tiny dark pants and a miniature version of the Alliance uniform jacket, clearly made just for him and crafted from soft fabric that wouldn't restrict his movement. The sleeves were rolled up slightly to reveal chubby little arms. His small feet were bare, and his tiny toes curled and uncurled as he stared at me with complete fascination.

My nephew.

I had a nephew.

The thought struck me with unexpected force. While I'd been locked in a cell and fighting in pits, life had continued around me. My brothers had found mates, built families, and created something beautiful and new.

And I'd missed all of it.

I would hate the Ulkommenian forever for that.

Niki's hand tightened in mine as we stepped through the doorway together, and I felt her presence beside me like an anchor—steady, warm, and real.

Mother rose immediately, her robes rustling softly as she moved, the heavy fabric swaying with each step. Her smile was bright. "Enslak. Niki."

She crossed to us and pulled me into an embrace.

I felt the cool silk of her robes against my hands and smelled that familiar floral scent, stronger now, mixed with something uniquely her. Then she turned to Niki and embraced her just as warmly. I saw Niki's surprise at being included so immediately, so completely.

"I'm so glad you're both here," Mother said.

Her arms around me felt both familiar and foreign. I remembered her embraces from childhood—warm and safe and smelling of those flowers—but this one carried something else. Relief that I'd finally come home.