Solantus’s tail uncurls, wrapping loosely around my ankle as we walk—a casual possession that sends a thrill through me. Tomorrow, we leave for Fireland. Tonight, we begin our life together.
I’ve never been more certain of anything.
epilogue
TAMSIN
One Week Later
Iwake to the sound of stone settling—a gentle groan that echoes through our den as Fireland’s twin suns breach the horizon. One week in this alien world, and already the rhythms feel familiar.
The silk sheets slide against my skin as I stretch, luxuriating in their unexpected softness against the volcanic stone walls that surround us. Solantus’s nest—our nest now—is a contradiction of hard and soft, just like him. The heat that radiates from the walls keeps the space at a perfect temperature, despite the biting winds I can hear whistling outside. Another day in Fireland begins, another day of learning how to be his mate, how to be myself in this new world.
“Kah-sorah mi-tahl,” I practice, forming my mouth around the unfamiliar syllables. My pronunciation is still clumsy, but I’ve learned that this phrase—good morning, my heart—bringsa pleased rumble from Solantus’s chest that makes the effort worthwhile.
He appears at the entrance to our sleeping chamber, already dressed in the lightweight armor that marks his status among his people. His scales catch the light filtering through the crystal windows, turning him into a living flame.
“Kah-sorah mi-faer,” he responds, the endearment slightly different. Not ‘my heart’ but ‘my flame’—a high compliment among his kind. “Your accent improves.”
I slide from our nest, wrapping one of the silk sheets around me. “Liar. I sound like I’m chewing rocks.”
“Perhaps small rocks,” he concedes, his amber eyes crinkling at the corners. “But yesterday they were boulders.”
The language lessons have become our morning ritual. After, he leads me to the communal eating space where breakfast awaits—a spicy porridge that burned my tongue to blisters that first morning. Today, I manage three bites before reaching for the cooling nectar.
“Better,” Solantus says, pride evident in his voice. “Soon you will not need this.” He taps the nectar container with one clawed finger.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” I warn, but I’m pleased too. Each small adaptation feels like a victory, a step toward truly belonging here.
The porridge is followed by flatbread and a paste made from local fruits that taste something like mangoes crossed with chili peppers. The combination shouldn’t work, but somehow it does—sweet, spicy, and utterly addictive once you get past the initial shock.
“Today I must meet with the elders,” Solantus tells me as we finish our meal. “Will you join, or explore?”
A week ago, I would have clung to his side, intimidated by the alien landscape and its equally alien inhabitants. Now, I consider my options.
“I’ll explore a bit,” I decide. “I want to practice my Fireland greetings with Maelis.” Maelis is his sister, one of the few females of his species who has shown genuine interest in helping me adjust.
He nods, pleased by my independence. “She will be at the weaving caverns until midday. After, I have something to show you.”
“Oh?” My curiosity piques. “What is it?”
His tail flicks in that way I’ve learned means he’s feeling smug. “A surprise. Meet me at our den when the lesser sun touches the western peak.”
The morning passes in a blur of language practice and cultural exchange. Maelis patiently corrects my pronunciation and teaches me new phrases—mostly practical, though she slips in a few suggestive idioms that make my cheeks burn when she explains their meanings.
“He will be pleased you know these,” she tells me with a wicked gleam in her eyes that reminds me so much of her brother.
“I’m sure he will,” I reply dryly, but I commit them to memory nonetheless.
The weaving caverns are fascinating—a network of natural chambers where Firelanders create their famous silk. The process involves a native insect that spins cocoons in the heated rock crevices, producing fibers that, when properly treated, become stronger than steel yet soft as cashmere.
“For your nest,” Maelis says, pressing a length of crimson silk into my hands before I leave. “New mates should have new beginnings.”
I clutch the gift, touched by her acceptance. “Thank you—ah, mey-shana,” I manage, using the formal gratitude phrase.
Her approving nod is as rewarding as Solantus’s rumble.
By the time the lesser sun touches the western peak, I’m filled with new words, new knowledge, and a growing comfort in this place that once seemed so alien. I return to our den, finding Solantus waiting with barely contained excitement.
