Only formalities…because he was already mine. And I was already his.
He felt that knowledge flow through my mind, that assurance, and he rumbled his approval, his agreement.
“I know you’ll miss Syris. And Brune. Tarkosh,” he told me.
“Yes,” I replied.But I’ll have you,I thought. “But you visit the Arsadia nearly monthly, and I’ll come with you when you do. Simple.”
He chuckled.Simple.A word he’d said to me, a realization, really, that could answer nearly anything. How simple everything was, truly, when you just…let go.
“Besides…Syris is traveling to Grym with Moak to help her mother with her shop until the nesting season,” I answered, strumming my fingers against his chest. “I’ll see them often.”
The day before the horde had traveled to the Tharken cliffs for theilla’rosh, I’d caught Syris and Moak in the kitchen. When I’d entered, Syris had sprung back from Moak as if he’d been on fire, while he’d greeted me with a wide grin, his eyes twinkling. My friend’s lips had been kiss-stung, a bright flush blooming across her cheeks. My own lips had twitched in knowing amusement. All I’d said was, “Don’t let me interrupt,” casting Syris alook that told her I’d needallthe details later, and I’d left the kitchen, as quickly as I’d come.
Ever since, they’d been inseparable, though Moak knew exactly how to push all of Syris’s buttons. I was happy for my friend. I might not understand it, but I knew she’d cared for Moak for a long time, saw something in him that I didn’t. Everyone knew it. I only hoped he didn’t break her heart and that he would love her as she truly deserved.
I continued, softly saying, “Brune is still so wrapped up in Ethrisha I doubt he’d notice I was gone forat leasta week.” Alaryk chuckled. Sighing, I added, “As for Tarkosh…maybe some distance will be good.”
The hatchery master still didn’t fully forgive me for what I’d done, the only bleakness in my life at the current moment. She had warmed to me. She’d at least stopped locking the incubation room at night when I worked late with the hatchlings…but I feared there would always be a wall between us. A betrayal that she might not ever forgive.
I couldn’t blame her. That was why I didn’t push. I only did what I could, hoping that maybe one day she might trust me again.
Alaryk told me, “She’ll come around.”
I smiled down at him, flickering my gaze over his face. His warm eyes did the same to me. I brushed my thumb against his lips, trailed it down to the little divot in his chin and then across the silver scar that trailed past his jawline.
There were times when I thought Alaryk might still be haunted from the events of that defining night. Sometimes when he looked at me, I knew he was lost in memory. In the pained memory of finding me in the rain-drenched forest, mud caked over my body, Ryak looming over me, his fists bloodied and splattered. Sometimes he had nightmares of it. Sometimes I did too.
I knew the guilt that still plagued him…because it mirrored myown. We might always feel it. But it had smoothed with a little time, and now it was only a mere ripple whenever the memory surfaced.
It would mark both of us forever. What Alaryk had done, what I had done. It was like two scars that branded us, that perfectly aligned themselves when we pressed against each other. Matching scars, matching regrets.
But our love was like the press of lips against those scars. An apology, a promise, a recognition, a forgiveness.
I dipped my head now, giving him a sweet kiss, my lips lingering.
“I am relieved to go back to Grym,” Alaryk admitted to me. “And I’m excited myself to show you the territory. To show you Harta, even.”
Though only on Samryn’s back,he added silently. Tensions with Harta were still simmering in the background with the knowledge of the heartstones’ discovery in Dakkar. They wanted a piece of the power. Much like theDothikkar, the Hartans believed the Karag heldtoomuch power. I understood the paranoia, the fear.
But theKarathswere good leaders. As long as they were in power, they wouldn’t exploit or overstep. Regardless, the Elthika themselves were the gods of the land.Theychose their representatives for the nation. They chose theKaraths.
It was not the Karag who held the power at all. It was the Elthika.
But with the heartstones’ magic dwindling from the land, there was unrest among their wild hordes, becoming more difficult to contain. It would be another decade before the heartstones would mature into usable energy.
I knew that Alaryk was worried what would happen until then. Elysom had called a meeting once the moon was full to discuss it. We’d barely be settled in Grym and Alaryk would have to leave again.
But that was his responsibility. His duty to his people, to his nation. I understood that.
Tensions with Dakkar and Harta were high and might always be. The Heartstone Accords would continue, given the other terms in the agreement, but with even more vetting. TheDothikkarwas apparently furious over what had happened with his guardsmen here but knew that an outright war with the Karag was a death sentence. His back was pressed into a corner, his control slipping over his kingdom…and it was never more apparent than now.
I might never see my homeland again.
And that was a strange realization.
I was only thankful that my family had decided to come. To leave their lives, to venture into the unknown.
My mother still grieved her friends, her neighbors, her community. Herlife. All her life, she’d known one place, and now…she might never see it again. But she’d told me that she would choose it all over again. To come to Karak on the back of an Elthika, armed with nothing more than words from a stranger.
