“These are not mating marks.” I looked down at my arms, at the patterns I’d carried since birth. “These are sacred marks. All D’tran have them. They’re part of us from the beginning.”
“But that one glow,” she insisted. “When you touchme. Why?”
I wished I had an answer. “Sacred marks respond to powerful emotional or spiritual moments,” I said slowly, trying to make sense of it myself. “They’re said to illuminate in the presence of one’s destined mate. But that’s…” I shook my head. “That’s legend. Younglings’ stories. They rarely glow at all, and when they do, it’s brief. Not like this.”
Her expression had shifted to something between fascination and caution. “You say these marksnotlike Destran mating marks?”
“I’m saying I don’t know.” The admission cost me. “I’ve never seen marks respond this way. Never felt them burn like this. And you’re not even D’tran. You’realien. It should be impossible.”
We stood there staring at each other, the air between us charged with questions neither of us could answer.
“Youhavemate?” she asked finally, her voice carefully neutral.
“No.” I watched relief flash across her face before she could hide it, and felt something triumphant surge in my chest. “But if I did, my marks wouldn’t change.”
“They change now.”
“They do,” I agreed.
She turned away, putting distance between us. I didn’t follow. She needed space to process, and honestly, so did I.
“The otherevacuation pods,” I said, steering us back to safer topics. “Your friends. We saw no other crashes in our territory. If they survived, they landed somewhere beyond the mountains.”
“Where storms are.” Her voice was flat. “Where nothing survives.”
I moved to the window, looking out at the mountains that both protected and imprisoned us. “Some things survive, but we have no contact with those places. We stay in our valley.”
“So, we trapped here.” She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Trapped in valley with people who think we want to destroy them. Friends are possibly dead.”
“You’re not trapped,” I said. “You’re under my protection. You’re safe.”
She turned to look at me, those soil-brown eyes searching my face. “Why? Why protect us when council wants us gone?”
“Because executing three injured people would make me the kind of leader who deserves to fail.” I held her gaze.And because my marks reacting to you means something, even if I don’t understand what. “I don’t act rashly.”
She nodded. “So what happens now?”
“Now you stay in those quarters. Under guard, but with freedom to move around the compound during daylight. You’ll be fed, clothed, given medical care. And you’ll help me understand your people, your technology, your purpose here.” I crossed my arms. “In exchange, I’ll keep you aliveand do everything I can to find information about your missing crew members.”
“That it? No hidden fee?”
I didn’t know what she meant by “fee.” Did she think I wanted currency from her? “That is all until we determine you’re not a threat, or unless circumstances change.” I moved toward the door, needing distance before my marks decided to flare again. “The prophecy my seers believe in says your arrival will bring ruin or renewal to my clan. My people are afraid because they don’t know which you represent. Show them you’re not here to destroy what we’ve built. Prove Vax and his supporters wrong.”
“How, when we under guard?” she asked.
I paused at the door, looking back at her. She stood there in borrowed clothing that didn’t quite fit, exhausted and bruised and still defiant. Still brave enough to challenge me, despite everything.
“Be truthful,” I said. “Be peaceful. We are primitive, compared to you, but we are not beasts.”
I left before she could respond, before the pull toward her could override my better judgment. I walked back down the corridor and told the guards to return her to the guest quarters. “Bring in the next one,” I said.
“Which one?” the guard asked.
I shrugged. “The male.” Cleo had been the one I wanted to speak with, but I had to be careful not to single her out. Doing so could result in suspicion with my peopleandhers. I would speak with all three of them.
Mating marks,she’d called them. Sacred marks that identified one’s destined partner.
Impossible. Cleo was alien. Human. From another world entirely.
