“Get more blankets from the caves; we will make a smaller place here, next to Wren,” Enya ordered.
Wren beamed, following the procession back into our hut.
I stewed, conflicted. I didn’t want this strange draken in my treehouse near my pregnant mate, but it clearly made that same pregnant mate happy. Wren led him away, practically dancing to get him settled. Nothing restored my queen more than a new project for her to focus on.
I turned, only to find myself face-to-face with Ronan.
“You seem changed,” I grunted at him.
He met my gaze, unflinching. His chin raised.
Huh.
He snorted. “Everyone keeps saying that.”
“Because it’s true.” I tilted my head to the side. “You have matured. You made decisions and stuck to them.”
Ronan flashed his fangs. “If you’re going to fight me, let’s get it over with.”
I snorted. “The Benedict from two years ago probably would have loved the opportunity,” I admitted. “But that Benedict would also have thrown Veskor into the sea and let Meruse drown him.”
The tension bled out of Ronan slightly. “And the Benedict of now?”
“Is trying,” I said honestly.
There was a moment of strained silence.
“Does Benedict now trust me?” Ronan finally asked quietly, voice small.
This was normally the part where the guilt would consume me. I realized now how badly I’d shaken our mateship up with my anger and the damage it could have caused.
Nasi gave me an appraising look over the back of Ronan’s shoulder, nodding respectfully. Whatever had happened on the continent, Ronan had earned Nasi’s respect—the respect of a rough, warrior draken who’d never known books or kindness or empathy.
“Yes. You did well,” I told him. “And you stepped up and demanded respect from our people as well, instead of leaving it to me and someone else. Please forgive my anger.”
He choked. “Forgive my foolishness.”
I seized him in a bone-crushing hug before he could protest further, his wings twitching in surprise.
“You are a good mate, Ronan. I am glad you are part of the mateship,” I whispered into his ear. He clutched onto me tighter, nodding.
Wren had changed us irrevocably, but nothing would ever be greater than the changes we’d made ourselves.
When we stepped back, Ronan cleared his throat.
“He’s not young,” he said. “Veskor.”
“No,” I agreed. “He’s … not yet an Elder, but almost, I think.”
“Too old to have grown up alone. Too old to have been born after the fall.” He tapped his claw against the railing, brows knitting. “Which means someone loved him once. Someone raised him. Or should have. Perhaps the trauma of the fighting pits sucked his previous life out of him. Nasi remembers Lyoness as it was. I do not remember Nasi or Veskor.”
The thought carved something uncomfortable in my chest.
“No. I didn’t know everyone. It sounds ludicrous now because there are so few of us, but we used to be so many. Veskor might not have even been his name, then.”
I sighed. Another lost child of Lyoness—how many were there? Would they ever all be found?
“We’ll find the truth,” I said eventually.
