“What do you need from me?”
“Make sure she eats. Regularly. The pregnancy is demanding more from her body than she’ll admit, and she has a habit of forgetting meals when she’s stressed.” Kaede ticked the items off like a mission brief. “Make sure she rests. Not just sleeps—rests.Sitting. Relaxing. Not running tactical scenarios in her head or worrying about every member of her scattered constellation.”
“And if she resists?”
Kaede’s mouth curved. Not quite a smile—something sharper. “Then you remind her that she’s not just carrying herself anymore. She’s carrying our daughter. She’s carrying your bond and the rest of our clan’s. She’s carrying our cubs hopes that the war will end and their family would be whole once again. She’s carrying the hope of every species that’s counting on her to end this war.”
The words landed with the weight he’d intended. Zyxel’s chartreuse eyes darkened, the predator in him rising to meet the challenge.
“You’re testing me.” Not accusation. Observation.
“I’m trusting you.” Kaede stepped closer, close enough that Zyxel had to tilt his head to meet his gaze. “There’s a difference. Tests are pass-fail. Trust is earned, maintained, or destroyed.” He held Zyxel’s stare. “You bonded withmynestqueen. You carry a piece of her soul. That makes you family, whether either of us chose it or not. But family means more than blood. It means responsibility.”
Something shifted in Zyxel’s posture. The lingering tension of a male trying to prove himself to an alpha—a dynamic Kaede recognized because he’d been on both sides of it—bled away. What remained was steadier. Calmer.
Resolved.
“I won’t fail her.” Zyxel’s voice dropped, rough with emotion he didn’t try to hide. “She gave me something I never thought I’d have. A bond. A place. A—” He caught himself, jaw working.
“A home,” Kaede finished quietly.
Zyxel’s eyes flicked to his. Surprised. Vulnerable in a way the ancient Rkekh rarely allowed himself to be.
“Yes.”
Kaede nodded. He understood that feeling better than he’d ever be able to articulate. The strange, terrifying miracle of belonging to someone after a lifetime of standing alone.
“Then don’t fail us.” The command was gentler than he’d intended. “Take care of our nestqueen. Keep her calm. Keep her fed. Keep her from running herself into the ground before we reach the station.” He paused. “And when we get there—when things go wrong, because they will—make sure she knows she’s not alone.”
Zyxel straightened. The movement was subtle but deliberate—a warrior accepting an order he intended to execute with everything he had.
“I swear it.”
Something unwound in Kaede’s chest. Not fully—the tension of responsibility never fully released—but enough. Enough to let him breathe.
Behind them, Euouae’s golden form shimmered. REI’s teal presence brightened slightly—an acknowledgment, perhaps, of the exchange she’d witnessed. Two Oetsae observing their hosts navigate the complicated terrain of trust and territory and the woman who’d somehow become the center of both their worlds.
From the nestbed came a soft sound. Movement. Selena stirring, reaching for warmth that was no longer there.
Kaede’s heart clenched.
“Go.” He nodded toward the door. “She’s waking. Be there when she opens her eyes.”
Zyxel didn’t hesitate. He moved back toward the bedroom with purpose—not the prowling vigilance of a bodyguard, but the quiet certainty of a mate returning to his partner’s side.
Kaede watched him go.
Then he turned toward the bridge.
Two days. Two days to prepare for every possible catastrophe the CEG could throw at them. Two days to coordinate defenses, review intelligence, and plan contingencies for contingencies.
He’d make sure they were ready.
REI fell into step beside him—or as close to steps as an ethereal projection could manage.
“That was well done,” she said quietly. “Delegating care. Trusting another with her wellbeing.”
“Don’t make it sound like personal growth.” Kaede didn’t slow his stride. “It’s tactical necessity.”
