Chapter 24
CHAPTER 24
Rekosh’s fingers ran through Ahmya’s hair, gently combing out all the tangles and knots they encountered.
He offered no mind to the low, orange flames of the crackling fire before them, the jungle’s night song, or the deep shadows beyond the fire’s glow. Only two things held his attention—the small human female sitting on his folded forelegs, and all the feelings she inspired within him.
Right now, the foremost of those feelings was contentment.
It seemed so new, so fresh, though he knew he’d experienced it before. Happiness…but it was more than that. There was a serenity to it, a sense of satisfaction and fulfillment that was enhanced by his undiminished, ceaseless yearning for his mate.
This was the most content he’d ever been in his life. The happiest he’d ever been.
He separated Ahmya’s hair into thick strands as his lower hands flexed upon her hips.
Rekosh might gladly have remained here with her, might’ve built a home for them and spent the rest of their days together in this quiet place. Just him and his little flower. But neither he nor Ahmya could do that. They could not forsake their tribe, could not cause any more worry.
This would be their final night here. Their final night in this ancient, crumbling ruin, where their love had truly blossomed.
Rekosh filled his lungs with her sweet, alluring scent and began weaving her hair into an intricate braid. Were the Eight ever to take his sight, he’d still be able to find Ahmya. Her fragrance was interlaced with his soul. It was part of him.
The fire popped, drawing his attention briefly to the flames.
He wasn’t ready to leave. Wasn’t ready to share her time or attention with anyone else. Part of him was actively searching for excuses, for any reason, however small, he could latch onto that would justify remaining here.
But they needed to go back. Not merely because their friends, their family, were in Kaldarak, but because Ahmya was far safer there than she was out here.
As Rekosh gathered the next strand to add into the braid, Ahmya sighed and settled her hands upon his forelegs. Her fingers gently stroked his fine hairs, suffusing them with her scent. A shudder rippled through him, leaving a delightful, anticipatory tingling on his hide. Her palms were warm, adding to the heat her touch stirred within him.
A soft hum rose from Ahmya. Rekosh stilled. It wasn’t a thoughtful hum, wasn’t a skeptical hum, wasn’t one of those brief hums of assent or satisfaction that humans often made. It was flowing, smooth, as though it was drifting upon an ever-changing wind.
It was a song.
And it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.
The hum stopped.
“Are you okay?” Ahmya asked.
Was he okay? Why would she?—
Only then did he realize that his hands had ceased moving, holding her hair in a half-finished braid .
“Make that sound again,” he said.
Ahmya chuckled and petted his legs. Then she once more produced that song, except this time, her humming led into words. They were soft and lyrical, rising high and sweet, falling low and sultry.
Rekosh had been wrong. This was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard.
Ahmya was singing. He knew it for what it was, though the sounds she produced were nothing like vrix singing.
He forced his fingers back into motion as he listened. Her words were English, and though he knew many of them, he found their meaning more difficult to put together when delivered by song—and somehow, that only added to the beauty of it.
Rekosh closed his eyes. He could gladly listen to her sing through the night and into the next day.
He could happily spend his entire life listening to her lovely voice.
When the song ended, they sat in comfortable silence, which was broken only by the crackling fire and the rustling of leaves outside their shelter.
“Is your father still in Takarahl?” Ahmya asked.
Again, his hands faltered, and his eyes opened. But the weight he should’ve felt from her question, the weight he’d expected, didn’t come. There was only sorrow, a haunting song whispering along his heartsthread.
“He is,” Rekosh said.
“Did you visit him when you went back?”
“I did.”
She twisted slightly, peering at him from the corner of her eye with her brow creased. “Did something happen?”
Rekosh turned his face away, staring out into the dark jungle. He’d thought he was done with this. Had thought his last encounter with his sire had been the end, that he’d set aside whatever attachment he’d felt. That his goodbye had somehow eliminated his own pain.
What a fool he had been.
Ahmya turned her body to face him, pulling her hair free from his grasp and making the braid come loose. She curled a leg atop his and caught one of his upper hands in hers. Rekosh looked down and stared into the deep, concerned, brown eyes of his mate.
“Remember, you never have to talk about anything if you don’t want to.” She reached up and cradled his jaw beneath his mandible, stroking her thumb over his hide. “I can tell something happened that made you sad. Just know I’m here for you. To listen, to talk, or to just simply be if all you want to do is hold me.”
He tipped his headcrest to her forehead and closed his eyes. Banding an arm around her waist, he held her close.
His heartbeats measured the passing time as he remained that way, soaking in her feel, in her warmth, in the comfort she was offering. Without her, he might’ve felt that old anger resurging. Without her, he might’ve been consumed by resentment and bitterness.
Now there was only that sorrow and a pervading weariness not of body, but of spirit.
Rekosh let out a slow, heavy sigh, opened his eyes, and lifted his head, once more meeting her dark, beautiful eyes. “I will tell you, my heartsthread.”
She smiled softly before pressing her lips to his mouth. The kiss was light, but the affection and love it conveyed echoed into the deepest recesses of his hearts.
Then, without another word, she turned around again, giving him her back, and took hold of his lower hands. She dragged them onto her lap, lay her palms atop them, and laced her fingers with his.
Warmth bloomed in his chest, pulsing outward in soothing waves. His mandibles ticked up into a smile. He gently combed his upper claws through her hair, undoing the loosened braid to start over. “My sweet little flower knows me well.”
And he wanted her to know him fully. No barriers between them, no secrets, no shame; hearts and souls bared and entwined. With anyone else, such vulnerability would’ve felt like a weakness. With Ahmya, it was strength. He was neither so prideful nor so foolish as to deny that his mate bolstered him.
But that made it no easier to refine the truth from within his complicated emotions, and to weave that truth into words.
“On our final day in Takarahl, I strode to my father’s den. We had not seen each other in many moon cycles. And I cannot say if I truly wanted to see him at all. No, what I really wanted was to show him the dress I made for you. I wanted him to look upon the finest silk ever woven by vrix hands and feel pride in me, in what he had taught me.
“I had the bundle in my hands, and I…did not open it. I did not show him.”
“Why not?” Ahmya asked gently.
Rekosh let out a heavy sigh, but he kept his fingers working. “Because he was happy. Happy to see me safe, but more… He was happy in that den, happy in that new life with his mate and their broodlings, who he wanted me to finally meet. And as I looked with all eight eyes, I could see no place for me there. The broodlings’ playthings reminded me of my brood siblings, and seeing his goldworker tools…
“What could I do but remind him of the pain and loss he suffered? What could I do but make him remember old hurts?”
She squeezed his hands. “Oh, Rekosh…”
“He took his new mate a few years before Zurvashi made war on the thornskulls. I was already grown, already denning alone, yet I was still angry at him. The life they made is not mine, the family they made is not mine. For so long, I felt…ap art. I felt it most when I was with him this final time. I gave him harsh words before I left.”
“And did those words make you feel better?”
Rekosh tilted his head, mandibles twitching. “Should not the question be how my words made him feel?”
“I’m here with you, Rekosh. You are my mate. I want to know what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling.”
A thoughtful hum escaped him. The braid grew more intricate with each passing moment as his fingers continued weaving; they knew their work well, even if his mind was otherwise occupied.
Finding a satisfying answer was difficult. That was a surprise for Rekosh, nearly as much so as the question itself had been.
Ahmya stroked her thumbs over his lower hands, seemingly unbothered by the lengthening silence. She was simply here with him, for him, and he knew she would be regardless of his response—even if he didn’t offer one at all.
“My anger has become sorrow,” he finally said. “I…I do not regret what I said to him. I spoke the truth of my hearts. But I regret how I spoke. It is as though I threw a stone, when I should have used the softest silk. I made…unnecessary hurt. Do you understand my words?”
She lifted one of his lower hands to her face and pressed a tender kiss to his palm. “I do.”
He trilled quietly, lowered his face closer to her hair, and breathed in her scent, seeking solace in it. “He told me he is sorry. For all the hurt he gave me. Even though he could not see it all, even though he could not understand it all, he said he is sorry.”
“I believe that he is. He suffered the loss of his mate and children, and in his attempts to protect you, he hurt you too. But I don’t think he ever meant to push you away or make you feel unwanted.” Ahmya pressed his hand to her cheek. “Why would he have been so happy to see you, so excited for you to meet your siblings, if he didn’t want you there? He wants you in his life, Rekosh. You are his family.”
An unhappy buzz escaped him. He wanted to argue, to deny what she had said…but he could not. He’d seen his sire’s eyes, his posture, had heard the sadness in his voice. Rekosh hadn’t expected his sire to take their parting so hard yet so gracefully.
And he hadn’t expected to feel it so deeply himself.
Ahmya lowered his hand to her lap. “I know that you’re hurt. Rightfully so. I…feel the same when I reflect on my relationship with my father. He never remarried, but after my mom died, he changed. He was harder, more distant. Our relationship growing up was so strained. Looking back, I think it’s because he just didn’t know how to raise a kid on his own, much less a daughter.
“For most of Hirohito’s childhood, our father was deeploid , so he was rarely home. When I was little, he retired from the military, but he started working long hours at a new job while my mom took care of us. And after she was gone…I don’t think he knew how to process his grief.”
Rekosh’s mandibles sagged. Whether vrix or human, no one seemed immune to the pain of loss, and no one seemed to bear it quite the same.
“As I grew up,” Ahmya continued, “he didn’t know how to talk to me, especially when it came to anything girl related. He was always much closer to Hirohito. Like you, I felt unseen. I worked hard in school to get the best graydz , I joined sportz , volunteered in after school programz . My accomplishments seemed to be the only way to get him to acknowledge me. I know a lot of it was because of his upbringing and having spent so much time in the miluh terree , but…it hurt. I just wanted him to see me as I was. His daughter.”
“ Kir’ani vi’keishi ,” Rekosh whispered, leaning down to brush his mouth across her hair. “Would that I could spare you such hurt. That I could take it from you.”
“You can’t shield me from every hurt, Rekosh,” she replied softly. “I just need you to hold me through it.”
He wrapped his lower arms around her. “Always, my heartsthread . Always.”
“And I’ll always be here to do the same for you.”
With a trill, he breathed in her scent. His mate was the most precious thing in the world—in all existence—and even if he couldn’t protect her from everything, he would forever try to do so.
Rekosh lifted his head. “You seem…at peace with that pain, Ahmya.”
“I don’t know about peace. But I do know in my heart that my dad loved me, that he did his best, and that sometimes, our best just comes up short. And it’s normal for that to make us feel conflicted. To feel love for a person, but also feel hurt by them. It’s up to us to decide whether we can set aside the hurt and try to build something meaningful…or if we need to let them go.”
She looked down, pulling her hair taut in his grasp. Her voice was thick with emotion when she spoke. “My dad is gone though. I’ll never have a chance to talk to him again, to tell him that I appreciate everything he did, that I love him.”
Even without seeing her face, Rekosh knew that her dark eyes were glistening with tears, and her pain struck his hearts.
Ahmya hugged his arms tighter around her. “But your father is alive, Rekosh, and so are you. Life is too short and too precious to give up on the opportunity to reconnect with him, if that’s what your hearts tell you to do. And maybe…maybe someday I could meet him.”
His heartsthread thrummed with emotions he could not yet identify, making his chest feel tight and heavy. Releasing her hair, he took hold of his mate with all four hands and turned her to face him.
Their eyes met. Hers were indeed shimmering with tears. Were vrix able to cry, he had no doubt he would be as well. That sadness…he could not bear to see it in her. Could not fight his need to soothe it away, to draw it into himself so it could no longer harm her.
He wrapped his arms around Ahmya and drew her against his chest. She threw her arms around his neck with fervor, tucking her face against his neck and wetting it with those tears.
Rekosh shifted a hand to the back of her head, cradling it, and smoothed his fingers over her hair. His chest vibrated with soft crooning in an attempt to mimic the song she’d sung.
Even as he comforted his mate, even as he held her, her words repeated in his mind. He could not deny the truth of what she’d said. He’d felt it in his heart even before speaking to her about any of this, but it had been Ahmya’s patience and understanding that allowed him to reflect upon it at all. That had pushed him to truly consider his feelings.
What if his parting words with his sire were the last they ever shared? Would they leave a sliver of regret embedded in Rekosh’s hearts, forever to cause him pain, preventing him from healing and finding peace? Would Raikarn die believing the only surviving broodling of his first brood despised him?
Because despite all his anger and resentment, Rekosh didn’t hate his father. If he hated anything, it was that he’d been denied the relationship they might’ve had.
He held his mate, and her tears gradually dried, but her embrace did not ease. He brushed his jaw against her hair. Simply holding her was enough. This was where he was meant to be, who he was meant to be with.
Yet he could not help but wonder now…what would it be like to bring Ahmya to Takarahl? To walk her along the tunnels th at had seemed so mundane to him, to see them with new awe and excitement through her eyes? What would it be like to bring her to his sire’s den, to introduce her to him, to meet his young siblings with her at his side?
She was human, but he hoped those differences wouldn’t matter. Hoped that his father would see what Rekosh could see so clearly—that his little mate was strong, intelligent, kind, and selfless. That despite her size, she had carried Rekosh through some of the greatest challenges of his life. That her dedication and tenacity had set an example that served as the core of their new tribe.
And he hoped that after meeting her, Raikarn would know Rekosh had made the right choice. That he’d know Rekosh was truly happy.
Surprisingly, he wanted to bring Ahmya to Takarahl. He wanted her to meet his sire, he wanted to show Raikarn and everyone else that his mate was the most remarkable female. That she was his, and his alone.
But he knew the time for such a journey had not yet come. The dangers of travel could be lessened by going in a group—consisting at least of Telok and Urkot, though with Ahmya along, Rekosh would want more companions to ensure her safety. And without a bloodthirsty queen pursuing them, they would have no need to drive on to exhaustion each day.
No, it was Takarahl itself that gave him pause. The city was healing, but its wounds remained fresh. Ahnset needed more time to set things right. More time to set her subjects at ease.
Perhaps when the shadowstalkers of Takarahl were ready to welcome the thornskulls of Kaldarak as friends and honored guests, they would be ready to meet the humans.
But Rekosh would not risk his mate.
He and Ahmya remained like that for a time. Sometimes, she hummed along with his crooning, but both seemed content to allow the crackling flames to fill in the silences between them. It wasn’t until Ahmya stirred against him and yawned that he realized how long they’d remained thus.
“Come, vi’keishi ,” he said as he rose, keeping her cradled against him, “let us rest. Our journey must resume with suncrest.”
She murmured a response, and he smiled. That she felt so safe in his arms meant more to him than he could ever say.
Rekosh carried her to their bed of fluffed silk and eased down onto his back, holding Ahmya against his chest. She rested her cheek over his hearts. He could feel her heart beating through his hide, and its steady rhythm coaxed his eyes closed.
“Sleep well, my nyleea ,” he whispered. “I have you.”
Forever.