“We won’t worry about that right now. Let’s keep going.”
She didn’t argue with him, just held his hand and kept walking.
The lights became brighter and when they stepped out of the crevasse, he felt a big relief.
“We made it,” he told her.
“Thank God. I think I need to sit down.”
“Hold on a little longer, the Game Master is about to announce our arrival.”
Mara’s visor cleared and she practically threw it back off of her head. She blinked as her eyes adjusted.
He could see that the color in her face had drained and there were tears streamed down her face. All his instincts told him to take her in his arms and comfort her. But that had to wait to do that as well.
The last set of players came through the crevasse.
The Game Master’s voice boomed across the frozen expanse.“Our final players have arrived! It is Blaine the Bold and Dugan the Borg!”
The audience erupted. The sound rolled over the space like a physical force, vibrating through the ice beneath their boots.
Mara let out a long breath she’d clearly been holding. “Thank God Blaine made it.”
The words were casual. Relieved. Unthinking.
They struck Vaelor harder than the freezing wind ever could.
He told himself it was foolish to react. Blaine was her species. Her kind. Of course, she would care whether he survived. It was logical. Reasonable.
And yet, something tight and sharp curled in his chest.
Vaelor watched her as she tracked Blaine’s approach, her posture loosening now that she knew he was alive. The relief on her face wasn’t exaggerated, but it was real. Honest. And it unsettled him in a way no battlefield ever had.
This was not a concern for a fellow competitor. His current game partner.
This was personal.
The realization settled slowly, unexpected but undeniable.
Jealousy.
The word tasted foreign. He had not felt it before, not like this. On Crytharia, bonds were declared or dismissed withclarity. Possession without purpose was weakness. Wanting what another had served no survival function.
So why did the sight of her caring for another male feel like a threat?
Vaelor folded his arms, forcing himself to remain still, composed. He would not let this show. He would not shame himself by reacting like an unseasoned youth.
But his instincts betrayed him anyway.
He stepped subtly closer to Mara, close enough that his shoulder brushed hers. Close enough that anyone watching—audience, players, or Blaine himself—would see where he stood.
Mara glanced at him, startled by the proximity. “Are you okay?” she asked softly.
“Yes,” he said, though it wasn’t entirely true.
His gaze remained fixed on Blaine as the other male approached the gathering, accepting the cheers with a tired grin. Vaelor assessed him without mercy—his build, his injuries, the way his eyes flicked toward Mara almost immediately.
The assessment ended with a single, unwelcome conclusion.
