He understood it, of course. Why the Anhur need to keep a secret like that. It could unsettle the entire Silver Court. Whole harems might be culled if the Omegas refused to breed for the Anhur.
It was the sort of whisper that could get a generation of Hathorians obliterated, not that learning it now was any sort of dangerous out here.
But something else she said caught his attention. “Why are you short on time?”
At this, she glared into the wood. Back, to where she’d come. “They aren’t thrilled about my wandering the night.”
And because he couldn’t help himself, because he needed to hear her say it, he said, “They?”
For a moment, Renegade’s eyes drifted away as she looked where he couldn’t see. Inside. Strumming the bond she shared with a beast.
And then, “Furious doesn’t begin to describe what Giaus is right now,” she murmured, and a sick little smile bent the edge of her lips. “And Sin… he’s—”
Knuckles going white, he blurted, “Sinadim is alive?”
She paused, head drifting off to the side as she peered at him through the dark. One ear tipped forward, the other back.
And then, very carefully, “Sinadim is dead in much the same way I suspect Sickle died.”
He swallowed,hard.
“But I’m still Renegade.” She chirped then shrugged. “Just… better.”
“They’re coming. For you,” he said, and it wasn’t a question. Lower back bunching as he cast a nervous glance into the gloom, he clicked his tongue and sent Sultana into the wood.
Warbling, irritated to be drawn away from a fresh kill, she went and took her thralls with her. There one second, gone the next. Lurking in the gloom as they guarded the clearing.
Only then did he ask, “Renegade,why did you come here?”
She took a step, the golden rim of her eyes catching the moonlight and throwing it back in his face. “Yarrow root grows where the soil is acidic,” she whispered. “In the dark. Under the loam. Where no light shines, except that from an evenwood.”
Nausea bubbled up. Sour and hot, it seared the back of his throat. And for the first time, he retreated half a pace, already sick with jealousy, no matter that he knew she was untouchable. Eyes traveling over her slender frame, he saw what was swollen and ripe. “You’re pregnant.”
“I was banished from the Silver City,” she said, switching tracks without a blink. “Not executed. Banished. My…mother… she would brew me a foul, bitter tea every time I returned from Hadim’s rooms. When my season struck and there was no more anonymity in the dark. With one hand, Samina tore out her throat, and so the last thing she said was a lie.”
A cloud crossed over the brightest moon, plunging Renegade into shadows. “I-I’m sorry,” he said, swallowing back the shiver. “I knew Samina well. Better than most, probably. That must have been… I’m sorry.”
And then in a husky, desperate voice he did not recognize, she said, “The girl had no part in—”
Renegade choked. Pale white fingers finding her windpipe, clutching, as if to keep herself whole. Lost in the past, where he couldn’t touch her. “They banished me when what I really earned,” she said, pacing ever closer, “was an execution.”
“You knew what the tea was,” he guessed, because there could be no other answer to a question as old as this one.
The smile slipped off her lips, and her fingers fell to the cradle below her bellybutton. Where she was ripe. “I regret only that I lied to save myself. That I allowed my fear of Hadim to tarnish her memory fornothing. He docked my tail anyway. It made him hard to give it back to me. A twitching gift that died in my hands.”
At this, he sighed. Listening to her macabre confession, despite the urge to flee from this slender fledgling predator stalking him through the night. Circling with careful, deliberate intention.
“I came because the Anhur lied to me,” Renegade hissed. “My mates. Sin, who used his knowledge against me. And Giaus, who kept the secret and benefited most.They made a transaction of me,” she snarled, ears flat, eyes gleaming pools of vibrant green. “Because they cannot help themselves. They’re animals,” she spat. “And I came to teach them what pain is. How deadly hope can be when it is given only to be ripped away.”
The wind whistled through the trees, banishing the cloud cover blocking out the moons.
And when he could see her beloved face once more…
… it was wet with tears.
“I came because I thought I couldn’t live another day in that den. Reduced to nothing more than a pampered doll who never wants for food or comfort. My every need attended before I even think it.”
“But you want more,” he said, knowing it to be true, having drank deeply of her brand of freedom for himself.
