The two of them held me between them—Zirene’s massive warmth at my back, Kaede’s lean strength at my front. The sires of my children. The anchors of my heart. I felt the others settling around us, the nest becoming a tangle of bodies and bonds as my constellation drew close.
My constellation. My clan. My heart broken into seven pieces and given away freely, without regret. Each of them carried a fragment of me now, just as I carried fragments of them. The web that connected us pulsed with shared emotion—contentment and sorrow and love so deep it transcended the physical. This was what I was fighting for. What Zirene was going to war to protect.
And soon, V’dim and Z’fir would follow…
The tears slowed. My breathing steadied. Exhaustion pulled at me—bone-deep and impossible to fight.
“Sleep, Nova.” Zirene’s voice rumbled through his chest, vibrating against my back. “I’ll be here when you wake.”
For now.
The thought tried to surface, but I was already drifting. Already falling into the warm darkness of sleep, held safe in the arms of my mates, surrounded by love so fierce it burned.
The last thing I felt was Kaede’s hand on my belly, palm pressed flat over the swell of our daughter.
Then sleep took me.
Dawn came too soon.
It always came too soon, but today it felt cruel. An ambush of golden light creeping through windows that should have stayed dark forever.
I woke slowly, awareness seeping back in fragments. The weight of bodies around me. The soft rhythm of breathing—seven different patterns layered together into a symphony that had become my favorite sound in the universe. The familiar scents of my mates tangled together into something that made my chest ache.
Morning light filtered through the windows, painting the nest in shades of gold and amber. I lay pressed between Zirene and Kaede, exactly where I’d fallen asleep.
For one perfect, suspended moment, I let myself pretend.
Pretend that this could last. That we could stay tangled together forever, frozen in this amber-lit peace. That war was something that happened to other people, in other star systems, far away from everyone I loved.
Then Zirene stirred against my back.
And I knew.
His arm tightened around me for a long moment—holding on, savoring, memorizing—before slowly releasing. The loss ofhis warmth hit like a physical blow. I felt his reluctance as clearly as if he’d spoken it aloud. The war between duty and desire. The crushing weight of a crown he’d never asked for.
He sat up carefully, trying not to disturb the others.
I rolled to face him, catching his paw before he could pull away completely.
His amethyst eyes met mine—raw with emotion he rarely showed. Pain and love and fear and determination all twisted together into something that made my heart crack down the middle.
“I have to go.”
Four words. Rough with an emotion he rarely allowed himself to show. They landed in my chest like stones, sinking deep, settling into the hollow places where fear lived.
I know.I wanted to say.I understand. Go save the galaxy. Be the Sovereign they need you to be.
But the words wouldn’t come. So I just held his paw tighter and memorized the feel of his scales against my palm.
He leaned down, pressing one last kiss to my forehead. Then to my lips—soft and lingering. Then to the swell of my belly, where his daughter slept peacefully unaware of the galaxy fracturing around her.
When he straightened, his gaze swept over the clan still sleeping around us. Kaede, already stirring awake with his assassin’s instincts.
“Take care of them,” Zirene said to Kaede, who was watching through sharp eyes. To V’dim and Z’fir, who had woken at some point without moving. To Xylo and Odelm. To Zyxel. “Take care of her.”
No one answered.
No one needed to.
