“Everything.” She stood and joined me at the window. “I’ve been studying the valley’s history. The texts Zelana has been sharing with me. This isn’t just a settlement. It’s a living museum. A preservation of an ecosystem that the weather likely destroyed everywhere else. The D’tran here aren’t just survivors. They’re guardians of something irreplaceable.”
“So what? That gives them the right to keep us here?”
“No. But it explains why they’re terrified of opening their borders.” Mierva’s expression was gentle. “For generations, they’ve watched their world outside these mountains die. They’ve seen other clans wiped out by storms, by starvation, by desperation. The only reason they survived was because they kept everyone out. Because they trusted no one.”
“That doesn’t make it right,” I said, but some of the heat had left my voice.
“No,” Baleck agreed, moving to join us. “But it makes it understandable. Rezor isn’t just some tyrant keeping us here for fun. He’s a leader trying to protect everything his people have built. Everything they’ve managed to save.”
“While completely ignoring what we want,” I pointed out.
“Is he?” Mierva asked. “Think about it, Cleo. If he really wanted to keep us here forever, what would he have done differently yesterday?”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“He could have told Zara we were dead. He could have said he didn’t know where we were. He could have sent them away with no hope of ever finding us.” She touched my arm. “But he didn’t. He confirmed we’re here. He confirmed we’re alive and well. And he basically invited them to come back with proof. That’s not the action of someone who wants to keep us prisoner forever.”
The words hit me like cold water. I hadn’t thought about it that way. Hadn’t considered that Rezor could have lied, could have made it impossible for my crew to ever find us.
But he hadn’t.
“He still should have told me,” I said, but there was no heat behind my words.
“Yes,” Mierva agreed. “He absolutely should have. That was wrong. But I think he was trying to balance impossible choices. His duty to his people, his feelings for you, his fear of losing you. He might have made the wrong call, but I don’t think it came from a place of wanting to control you.”
“Yes,” Baleck said. “And from where I’m standing, hisfeelings are obvious.” He gave me a pointed look. “The male is completely gone for you, Cleo. Anyone with eyes can see it. Those marks of his glow like a beacon every time you’re in the same room.”
“So?” I turned away from the window, from the view of the valley I’d started to think of as home. “Feelings don’t matter if they come with chains.”
“But do they?” Baleck pressed. “I’ve not yet felt the mate bond myself, but I know Destrans who have, and the D’tran are close relatives with similar traits. It’s not a casual thing. It’s overwhelming. All-consuming. It makes people do stupid things because suddenly their brain is screaming that this one person is the most important thing in the universe and they have to keep them safe at all costs.”
“That’s not an excuse—”
“No, but it’s an explanation.” He moved closer, his expression serious. “And I’m saying that a male in the grip of a brand-new mate bond who managednotto attack a convoy full of strangers trying to take his mate away showed incredible restraint. Some males would have started a war.”
I wanted to argue. Wanted to insist that Rezor’s feelings didn’t excuse his actions. But looking at Baleck’s earnest expression, at Mierva’s gentle understanding, I felt my anger begin to crack.
“Do you love him?” Baleck asked quietly. “Do you feel the bond too?”
The question hung in the air between us. I could have denied it. Could have insisted it was just sex, just proximity, just the circumstances of being stranded here together.
But I’d never been good at lying to myself.
“Yes,” I whispered. “I love him. And Ihatethat I love him, because loving him feels like giving up everything else I am.”
“Why?” Mierva asked.
“Because…” I pressed my hands against my face, feeling tears threaten again. “Because my whole childhood, my father controlled everything. Where I went, what I studied, who I talked to. He said it was for my own good. Said he was protecting me. But really, he was just keeping me small. Keeping me contained in his idea of who I should be.”
I dropped my hands, looking at my friends through blurred vision. “When I finally got away, got to university, got out into the galaxy, I swore I’d never let anyone make me feel that way again. That I’d never let anyone trap me in their world. And then I met Rezor, and he makes me feel things I didn’t know I could feel. But yesterday, when he kept the crew from me, when he made that choice without even asking me. I felt like I was right back in my father’s house. Powerless. Trapped.”
Mierva moved closer and pulled me into a gentle hug. “That must have been terrifying.”
“It was.” I let myself lean into her embrace. “Because I realized I’d done exactly what I swore I’d never do. I’d fallen for someone who wanted to keep me in a box. Who saw protecting me as more important than letting me choose.”
“I wonder if that’s really what Rezor wants.” Mierva pulled back to look at me. “Or is he making mistakes because he’s terrified of losing you? There’s a difference between someone who wants to control you and someone who’s scared and making bad decisions.”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t know anymore.”
