“I’m watching,”I corrected.“There’s a difference.”
“Is there?”His mental voice carried amusement.“You’ve been standing here for nearly an hour. Your feet are swelling. Xylo would be very displeased.”
I shifted my weight, acknowledging the dull ache settling into my lower back without moving from my spot. My body had been complaining all day—quietly at first, then with growing insistence—as if reminding me that ten weeks was still early, still fragile, still demanding.
My stomach roiled, not quite nausea, not quite hunger—something in between that left me uncertain which would win. Food had become a guessing game lately. One moment I was ravenous, the next I couldn’t stand the smell of it. Scents clung to me now, too sharp, too vivid—sweet things made my head ache, oils turned my stomach, and even the familiar comfort of the villa carried an edge I hadn’t noticed before. I breathed carefully, slow and measured, riding out the faint dizziness that followed whenever I shifted too quickly.
My breasts felt heavy, sensitive beneath my clothes, a constant low awareness that made every movement deliberate. Fatigue wrapped around me like a second skin—bone-deep, unrelenting—no matter how much I rested. Even sitting still took effort, as if my body were quietly siphoning energy away for something far more important than me. There was a faint cramping low in my abdomen, not painful, just present, areminder that everything inside me was changing, stretching, making room.
I pressed a hand to my belly, grounding myself through the swirl of symptoms and sensations. Whatever waited at the CEG station, whatever dangers circled closer with every passing hour, she was counting on me. To endure the discomfort. To push through the exhaustion. To survive.
“We need to discuss the station,”Vowels continued, his tone shifting from teasing to serious.“The neutral territory.”
Below, Kaede called a switch. Zyxel rotated out, Ryzen rotated in. The spar resumed—violet against emerald, shadow against storm. They moved like a dance choreographed by war.
“I know.”I sighed, not wanting to think about the next few days.“The Quaww have already requested to address the Assembly. They know I’ll be there.”
“The Chamber is neutral ground.”Vowels’s presence solidified in my mind, heavier now, weighted with concern.“But neutral does not mean safe.”
I watched Kaede disarm Ryzen with a move I couldn’t follow—too fast, too fluid. The spirit daggers scattered, reformed, resumed their orbit around the Verya male. Neither acknowledged the point. They simply continued.
“I know that, too.”
“Do you?”The golden warmth pressed closer, wrapping around my thoughts like a blanket.“You must be vigilant. Not just of the Verya—of everyone. Trust only those whose bonds you can feel.”
“And if I can’t feel them?”
Silence. The kind that stretched too long, carried too much weight.
“Then you watch,”Vowels pathed quietly. “You listen. You read what isn’t spoken—the pauses, the tension carriedin posture and breath.” His presence shifted, sharpening.“Someone close will betray you,”he continued, his words settled heavily.“Not a distant enemy. Not a stranger across the stars. Someone within reach. You must remain vigilant. You must never be alone.”
I exhaled slowly. “I’m never alone,” I pathed. Not defensively. Truthfully. “Not with you. Not with the bonds I share with my mates. They’re always with me.”
Vowels’ attention tightened, thoughtful rather than dismissive.“Distance severs certainty,”he said.“Your mates may not be able to save you if you are separated by great spans of space. Bonds stretch—but even they have limits.”
The warning slid under my ribs, cold and unwelcome, and I let it sit there. Let it sting. I didn’t turn away from it.
I’d already lived through being ripped from everyone I’d ever known. I’d survived the distance, the silence, the ache of missing voices that used to be my whole world.
We’d done it once.
We’d do it again.
“Then I’ll be ready,” I said. “I’ll be more vigilant.”
“You will,”Vowels agreed. His presence softened, but the warning remained.“Because you already have advantages they won’t anticipate. Your mental range. Your sensitivity to bonds. The web you’ve built over Destima—connections layered and reinforced in ways even the Nyaviel find remarkable.”
My web. The golden network that stretched across my moon, linking Circuli citizens in a tapestry of shared consciousness. I’d inherited it from my princes and reshaped it into something new—something stronger, more protective. Something that felt like home.
“Ryzen has been helping me extend my range,”I offered.“We’re training. If I can reach Zirene while he’s at the front—”
“Then you can reach across distances others believe impossible. Yes.”Vowels’s approval hummed through our bond.“But be careful how far you stretch. A thread pulled too tight can snap. And a snap at the wrong moment…”
He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to.
I understood.
The Verya were powerful telepaths. If I ran into them while I was a great distance from my clan, it wouldn’t take much for them to cut my connections—one clean slice through my web, and I’d be alone in my own head.
