At the end of the hall, he reaches past me to push open the outer door before the attendant can. His arm passes close enough that I catch the full scent of him again. Rain. Smoke. Green things. Heat.
My pulse stumbles as the door opens and bright Tigris light spills over the threshold. I step through it as a married woman. It should feel impossible. Instead, it feels plain and heavy and real. I signed my name. He signed his. The law spoke. The contract is complete. I am his wife now in the eyes ofgovernments, and somehow that feels like the smallest part of what I have just agreed to.
Chapter 10
Kaiven
The legal office means nothing to my body. That becomes clear the moment we leave it. The papers are signed. The human officials named her wife and transferred her into my protection. By every law that matters to cities, governments, and planets that need words written down before they believe anything is real, the matter is settled. When I walk beside her through the corridor, every instinct in me says the work has not even begun.
Because now she is mine by law. But not yet in scent. Not yet in custom. Not yet in my camp, under my sky, inside the life that will actually hold her.
I keep my pace slow and even. That is the first discipline. I could walk faster. I want to. I want her out of the building, out of the capital, out of reach of every other eye and scent in the place. But she is smaller, and this world is too large around her. If I move at my own stride, she will have to hurry to keep up, and I will not begin this marriage by making her chase me down a government hall like a servant.
So I shorten my pace. No one notices but me.
Keandra walks with her spine straight and her hands too tight around the tablet they gave her. She looks like she is holding herself together by force. Not weak. Not foolish. Just strained in the way of someone trying to absorb too much at once and refusing to let it show. That effort catches my attention harder than open fear would.
I open the outer door before the attendant reaches it. Not because she needs the courtesy. Because I do not want another male stepping close to her if I can prevent it. That is the second discipline. Too much, too early, and she will feel the cage before she feels the shelter.
Tigris light hits us as we step into the open court. Heat rises off the stone. Wind moves the high banners. Somewhere deeper in the city, a horn sounds, low and distant. Keandra blinks once against the brightness, then follows Marat toward the waiting transport.
I stay close enough to catch her if she stumbles. Far enough that she does not have to flinch every second. That balance is harder than battle.
At the transport platform, my vehicle waits where it always waits when I come to the capital. Long-bodied. Dark metal. Built low and wide for rough ground beyond city roads. The wheel housings are heavy, made for stone and broken land. Hide-wrapped supplies are strapped along one side, and the front grill bears the worked sign of Vek Talan in dark metal.
Two of my warriors stand nearby. Not in full horde gear, but mine by posture alone. Both straighten when they see me. Both let their attention go to Keandra for one brief moment.
That is enough.
I stop. Neither moves again. I do not raise my voice. Do not bare my teeth. Do not need to. One look tells them what matters. Not curiosity. Not now. Not at her.
Both lower their heads at once and look elsewhere.
Keandra notices. Of course she does. Her whole body has been alive with awareness since I entered the waiting chamber. I can see it in the way she goes still beside me, the way her breathing shifts, the way she does not look at me directly but knows exactly where I am at every moment.
Good. Let her know she is guarded. Not watched like prey. Guarded.
Marat turns to me. “Your route has been cleared. You should make the lower gate before traffic thickens.”
I give one nod.
His gaze shifts to Keandra. “Your travel bag has already been transferred.”
She looks immediately toward the transport, as if she had not realized until now that her things might be moved without her seeing it happen. Another small tightening. Another reminder of how much control she has handed over in the space of a single day.
I speak before the worry can grow. “Your belongings are safe.”
Her eyes come to me at once. I do not add more. The words are enough, or should be. Too many explanations from me this early will only sound strange, like I am trying too hard to make her trust what she has no reason yet to trust.
She gives a small nod.
Marat inclines his head to me. “Then my duty is complete.”
No. Not complete. But finished in the ways that matter to bureaucrats and match systems.
I say the formal thing required of me. He receives it without offense or warmth. Good. The male is useful because he does not need warmth.
Then he turns to Keandra. “You will be given further instruction in household and territorial customs once you reach Vek Talan.”
