“I wasn’t talking to you.” Bronwen was already back to examining Anhara. “How do you feel? Hungry? Strong? Want to punch something?”
“All of the above, actually.”
“Good. Transformation takes a lot out of you. Eat first, punch things later.” Bronwen grabbed a plate from the table and shoved it at Anhara. “Protein. Now.”
A sound from the corner drew my attention. A soft chirp, followed by a low electronic growl. Flinx was perched on a shelf, cybernetic eyes fixed on Turnip with unmistakable hostility.
“Flinx, don’t,” Carys said. She was sitting near Brevan, her own gold traceries visible on her neck.
The cat’s tail twitched.
Turnip’s head swung toward the sound. His small eyes found the cybernetic lynx. His tusks caught the light.
Flinx leaped.
Turnip charged.
The next thirty seconds were chaos. Squealing, hissing, crashing furniture, and Bronwen laughing so hard she had to hold onto Zarek. By the time order was restored, Flinx was hiding behind Carys’s legs, synthetic fur bristling, and Turnip was back on the table looking entirely too pleased with himself.
“I love this pig,” Bronwen said, wiping tears from her eyes.
Anhara reachedacross the table and scratched Turnip's snout. The boar swung his head toward her, small eyes blinking. A lowsound rumbled out of him. Not the warning growl I'd heard on the farm. Something softer. Recognition.
“Yeah,” Anhara murmured. “I missed you too, you traitor.”
Turnip huffed and went back to Bronwen's protein cubes.
Anhara watched the chaos with wide eyes. Overwhelm mixing with something else. Joy. Belonging.
“This is insane,” she said quietly.
“This is family.”
Rylos found me later.
Anhara was with the other women, the four of them talking quietly in the corner. Tamsin. Bronwen. Sabine. Carys. And now Anhara. Human women bound to Vinduthi warriors, finding common ground in their transformations.
“The keys are ready,” Rylos said. He stood beside me, both of us watching our people. “All five. Varrick has them linked.”
“And?”
“We have a location.” His voice was neutral. Too neutral. “The Sovereign’s vault. Everything he hid before the Conclave killed him. Everything they’ve been hunting for twenty years.”
“That’s good news.”
“It’s complicated news.” He let that settle. “The location isn’t somewhere we can assault directly. Not without planning. Not without resources we don’t currently have.”
“How long?”
“Weeks. Maybe longer.” He glanced back at the others. At the family we’d built over years of fighting. “But we’ve waited this long. We can wait a little more.”
He left without saying anything else. Typical Rylos. Information given on his terms.
I filed it away. Something to worry about later. Right now, I had other priorities.
Anhara looked up from her conversation. Met my eyes across the room. The bond between us pulsed, warm and steady.
She smiled.
