I shrunk back. His words stung. I knew Xaedren hadn't done it to feel superior. I mean, he did, but that wasn't the driving force behind his actions. I knew Xae. He didn't want to expose me to anyone. He wanted me all to himself. But it was Rath who had walked in on us, and right after the incident in the training yard. That made all the difference. It wasn't about winning or pride. It was about claiming his lover. Xae did it to stake his territory. To show Rath once and for all that I was his, and he was mine. I knew it was the wolf inside Xae demanding the display. I was learning about his culture now, and I knew the animal in him had no concept of shame. It wouldn't occur to the wolf that I might be embarrassed. All the wolf saw in Rath was someone it had just battled for my affections. And Xae happened to be inside me at the time. The choice was obvious. Pulling out would have been backing down. I knew all of that, so that wasn't what bothered me. It was the fact that I knew Xae so well, and had been making an effort to get to know him and his people, but I wasn't certain that he knew me.
I probably doubted Xae for nothing. As I said, I knew why he had acted so barbarically. But I couldn't be sure. We talked, of course, but did he truly listen? Did he sense who I was beneath my words? Did Xae know me as well as I knew him?
Looking at Rath, it was hard to have faith in Xae. Because as much as I loved my big, gruff Ladrin, I also loved my intense, stern Varraen. The fight yesterday had made me furious, but it also roused my ardor. As terrible as it sounds, there was a small part of me that liked them fighting over me. I had gone so long without a public relationship that seeing two men beat on each other just to have me, in front of men they worked with and respected, made me savagely proud. Yep, I admit it. I secretly enjoyed it.
Of course, I only enjoyed it now, after the threat of them seriously hurting each other had passed. I guess, I just liked the idea of them fighting over me, not the actuality of it. I didn't enjoy Rath belittling Xae. Nor did I want them to suffer. Fuck, maybe I didn't know myself either. And if I didn't know who I really was, how could I expect Xae to?
“I'm not going to justify Xaedren's behavior to you,” I finally said. “But I know why he did it, and I understand. I don't need you to approve of it or understand it. I doubt you ever will. But if you're going to continue to be my mentor, I need you to respect my choice and your fellow Wraith Lord. No one likes a bitter asshole, Rath.”
Rath's face twitched. His lips pressed together.
I knew him nearly as well as I did Xae. I recognized the signs of Rath's fury and frustration. I knew he wanted me badly, and that excused a lot of what he did in my eyes. I could forgive him because he loved me, and he was desperate. But I also knew he was full of Varraen pride. Rath may not be a condescending asshole or a raging racist, but he'd been raised to believe his race was superior to others, and that belief had revealed itself yet again. It was part of what had kept him from becoming my lover and the reason he couldn't conceive of me wanting Xaedren more than him. And that's the part of Rath I didn't like. I realized then that fate had been kind to me. I was with the right man. I could never fully love Rath until he got over his superiority. But I didn't have that problem with Xaedren. With him, it was the opposite; he felt unworthy of me.
“I love him,” I said at last. “And he loves me.”
Rath's irritation turned into pain. I saw it clearly for three seconds. Then he shut it down, concealing his hurt behind an indifferent expression. “A man who loves you wouldn't have done that, Ember.”
“Goddess damn it,” I growled. “It's not Xae's pride that bothers me, Rath. It's yours.”
“Excuse me?”
“Excuse me?” I mimicked him. “It's not just Xaedren either. You think you're better than everyone, me included. I can't stomach that.”
“I do not think I'm better than everyone!”
“Oh, pardon me. I misspoke. You think you're better than everyone who isn't Varraen.”
“Fuck you, Ember!” Rath pointed at me. “I thought you knew me as I well as I know you, but I was wrong. You don't see me at all.” He turned around and stormed out of my room.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I went to my training session on the lookout tower without Rath that morning. Master Bri'tar didn't mention my mentor's absence, but I felt it keenly. Rath always gave me his support during classes, whether it be with advice, encouragement, or just his presence. Going it alone was awkward.
“Good, now come here, Ember. It's time you learned how to fly.”
“What?” I squeaked.
“Masters of Air Magic can fly.” He spread his wings to add, “With or without wings. We Makhon have a natural advantage since we are born with Air Magic, but I have no doubt you will become powerful enough to move through the sky buoyed by Air alone. The first step is for you to get the feel of flight. Come here.” He opened his arms.
“Uh.” I looked at the Wraith Lords on duty, and they grinned at me.
“Go on,” Lord Dreven, a Tytra, said. “We believe in you, Ember.”
“Great.” I made a face at him as I went to Bri'tar. “Too bad that doesn't do me any good.”
Bri'tar lifted a dark eyebrow along with his speckled wings. “Then have faith in me, Ember. I will not drop you.”
“Are you sure you can carry another person while flying?”
“Yes, I'm sure.” He stepped behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and lifted me off the ground.
Pressed against Master Bri'tar's chest, facing forward, with my feet dangling, I felt like a child. I stuck my tongue out at the Lords when they snickered, doubtless thinking the same thing. But then Bri'tar stepped up onto the top of the low wall that ringed the tower, and I found myself staring down the extreme drop at the mist within the abyss—I mean the ravine around the citadel.
“Wait,” I said.
“No.” Bri'tar jumped, taking us several feet out from the tower.
We plummeted, and I screamed like a little girl. But then his wings caught the air with a cracking thud, and we arched upward. With my heart beating in my throat, I tried to gasp in enough air to slow its rapid rhythm.
