Myzalla was behind me, marching me the—thankfully—short distance between Alaryk’s dwelling and the hatchery. She seemed perturbed that she’d been assigned as my guard for this morning, but I knew it was because Alaryk likely didn’t trust many. Myzalla was the exception.
“I can walk from here,” I informed her, turning to look at her over my shoulder when the circular dome of the hatchery building came into view.
“Not a chance” was her reply.
I sighed. “I didn’t ask for this,” I informed her, grumbling it under my breath.
“That makes two of us,” she replied, “but I understand his caution. So let’s just pretend that I haven’t been assigned to be your nursemaid for this morning and say nothing more about it.”
I wisely kept my lips pressed together, trudging down the road, trying to ignore the Karag who physically stopped in their morning routines to stare at me passing. Some gazes heldwariness. Others, shrewd curiosity. And then there were the ones with blatant mistrust, shaded glares.
My feet picked up pace, though the resulting twinge between my thighs was a constant reminder, adding to my growing list of impulsive and reckless things I’d done yesterday.
But I’d slept—irritatingly—well. I’d woken in the middle of the night once, to find Alaryk sleeping beside me, his warm thigh crooked and pressed against my leg, his hand resting on the soft part of my belly. The closeness, the strange newfound intimacy had made my chest flutter, but in my sleepiness, I hadn’t questioned it. His warm, solid presence beside me in bed had helped me drift back to sleep. The steadiness of his breath and the heat of his hand were the last things I remembered until dawn light had filtered across the bed.
And Alaryk had been gone. I’d wandered outside to find Myzalla already waiting for me, telling me that Alaryk was meeting with Gevanth, the representative from Elysom.
I pushed the memory of his bed from my mind. I pushed the memory of me spread out on his table from my mind…and the way his fingers had brushed over my clit in his bathing pool. Icertainlydidn’t need to remember that.
When I stepped foot in the hatchery, I blew out a shaky breath of relief. Myzalla stayed outside, telling me not to leave the building unless a guard was present with me. Only after I agreed did she let me out of her sight.
“There you are,” Syris breathed, looking a bit frazzled, when I found her in the courtyard. She was alone, trying to corral four hatchlings, Kyr included, into their nesting room. My friend looked me over, long and assessing. Then, to my surprise, she said, “Tarkosh is prepping another hatchling. Help me get them inside, because she wants us in incubation.”
We would talk later, I knew. But maybe Syris sensed that I needed a state of normalcy right now. Something distracting,something that would give me purpose so I didn’t sink into my own emotions and regret.
“On it,” I said, already setting my sights on Kyr.
It was nearing evening when I was finally able to catch my breath, stepping outside into the courtyard. Pink dusk light was filtering through the heavy cloud cover overhead. A cool breeze swept through my hair as I chugged a goblet of water. Hatchery work was less messy than working withpyrokis. I wasn’t covered in birthing aftermath and blood at the very least. But it was no less strenuous. Hatchlings were mischievous and much more intelligent thanpyrokis. Outsmarting them was tiring, and keeping them occupied was a job in itself. I didn’t know how Tarkosh and Syris handled it year round, especially since this was supposedly the quiet season, right before the storm of hatchlings would come.
A tapping sound made me snap my head up, frowning as I peered around the empty space. Syris and Tarkosh were in the kitchens. Ulin was in the washroom, Moak was down in the main village. I’d come out for fresh air before we all ate.
At the end of the courtyard, I saw a familiar face watching me from over the half wall that lined the perimeter.
I jolted, my heart speeding in trepidation.
Quickly approaching, I kept my voice hushed when I asked, “What are you doing here? How did you get past Myzalla?”
Nevin leveled me a look, as if my question was insulting. “We don’t have a lot of time. The guards are on rotation,” he said. “What are they saying about Ryak?”
I swallowed hard. “I don’t know?—”
“Cut the shit, Amaia,” came Nevin’s words. His tone was even, bordering on cold. Stern. “I know what Ryak threatenedyou with. Just because he’s gotten himself locked away doesn’t mean you’re in the clear. And now I know something about you that Ryak doesn’t.”
My heartstone magic.
I realized that he was dangerous in a way that Ryak hadn’t been. Nevin was measured. Calculated.
“I’ll ask again. What are they saying about Ryak?”
His golden eyes were like mirrors. They made a shudder work down my spine, and I had to look away.
His arms flashed over the half wall, digging his grip into my forearm. His thumb pushed into a tender muscle, making me bite my tongue to keep from crying out. “Tell me.”
I glared, trying to pull away. “Ryak is the one who fucked up, Nevin,” I hissed. “Not me.”
“I won’t ask again,” came his soft words. And those soft words terrified me more than Ryak’s threats ever had.
“Let me go, and I’ll tell you.”
