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He blinks up at me, wetting his lips. “Hello.”

“I am sorry we were speaking in a way you could not understand. We were just discussing the drinks.”

He stares, his eyes full of uncertainty. “Yeah, alright. Do you want something?” His voice is unusually soft for having such strong emotions.

“I would like to try the Duskroot Latte.”

“Alright.” He murmurs something under his breath as Zinni insists I not pay for this, but I refuse.

I must support those who are trying to make their own way here on Earth. There is much wrong with Erethar, but Earth is much kinder to the Vyastil than I expected it to be.

“Syl, can you go grab some more milk from the back? We are out,” Zinni says, his voice kind despite the stare Syl gives him.

“Fine. Be right back,” he bites back.

I can tell by the way he walks that he does not like doing what he’s told. Zinni must understand this as well because he sighs and says in Eretharian, “That human has much to learn. He is still young. My partner does not enjoy his presence. He finds him unhelpful.”

I nod as he pulls out a bag of herbs that are grown on Erethar, and the scent of them brings back memories of home. I need to return there soon.

Perhaps it will help with this urge I have to see Luca, to simply be where he has been.

A commotion comes from the back room, and then my breath catches in my chest as I see him. There’s a tall Vorthex, his blunt tail prodding Syl in the back as he stalks forward. Our eyes catch, and he abruptly stops, his eyes widening for a moment before they narrow. I scent fear on him, and I understand why.

He should not be here, and the scar seared into the side of his neck tells me he bears the mark of a prisoner. The Vyastil do not release Vorthex prisoners, so he must have escaped. He’s poised to run, but I quickly tilt my head in surrender.

“Greetings,” I say in Eretharian. “You are safe.”

His feathered ears flutter, and after a long moment, he offers me a curt nod. He does not like that I know what he is. He has done well to disguise himself, but I know what he is. Even if he is missing his wings.

I peer around him in an attempt to see how much of them were taken, but all that remains under his tunic is the echo of what was.

“Hepyn had both wings removed at the joint,” Zinni says, answering my curious gaze.

“Enough,” Hepyn bites out, his voice raspy like the wind. “It is not his business.”

Syl slams down the container, and everyone stares at him. “Could you speak in English, please? Fuck, I feel left out and I fucking hate it.”

Zinni bites his lip as he tries not to smile, obviously finding the human’s behavior charming while the Vorthex closes his fists in frustration. He does not like the obstinacy of this human.

And Syl is right to be careful. The Vorthex are fierce creatures who live in the skies above Erethar, content to be left alone and do as they please. But when they are bothered or threatened, the creature within them comes out, and they are ferocious.

I do not want to see this.

I have before and would like to spare the gentle humans milling around the store from any trauma. “We will speak in a language you can understand.”

“Awesome, thanks,” he murmurs. “And sorry. I just…I don’t like to be left out. It’s rude.”

I incline my head. “The Vyastil are not used to such strong feelings but will consider them in the future.”

Syl snorts at my comment, but he bobs his head and then waves me aside as a customer strides in.

The Vorthex releases his fists and gives a curt nod of deference and then disappears into the back. I do not know why he made an appearance, but I am glad to know one of their kind is here. I would like to one day sit down with him and hear his story.

I move to the counter to wait for my drink and speak with Zinni as I do. We do it in English, and I can see Syl peering over at us as we do. His cheeks are still flushed, his finger moving to push his glasses up his nose again.

He is very different from Luca in almost every way.

The muscles under Luca’s skin far exceed what Syl has. The way they flex and bunch as he’s letting me suck him is like art. The color of his hair, the freckles on his face—an entire constellation on his skin…I want to memorize each one. I want to name them, to keep them secret between us.