Chapter 23
Soren did what he’d always done when plagued by his unhappy turuk—he threw himself into work. After conferring tersely with Briseis, while ignoring her looks of concern, he’d volunteered for the worst of it he could find: clearing brambles and underbrush around the east side of town.
With summer here, creating a firebreak for the village was important, and Briseis had been seeking volunteers to clear various sections of land of flammable forest litter and detritus.
It was unpleasant work, full of spindly, thorny things that didn’t want to be uprooted.
By midday, he was already nicked with little scratches, the vindictive brambles finding their way past his fur, which itself had picked up a dozen burrs.
As afternoon came, he was sweaty, itchy, hot, and angry—at himself and at everything else. But most importantly, he was as physically tired as he was mentally exhausted.
He’d known no peace since leaving Maeve the night before. Between the raging turuk and Soren’s fear that the beast would force a shift should he fall asleep, he found no solace even in rest. There was only one thing for this—total mental and physical exhaustion, so deep, his body couldn’t shift.
Then, maybe he might get a moment of peace to think.
Nothing to think! snarled the turuk. All that matters is kigara!
“She’s leaving,” he spat at the deep-rooted thistle he fought.
Then bring her back!
Soren couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t stand in her way. If that meant keeping away from her, even in these few precious days, perhaps only hours, she remained here, then so be it.
The beast growled with disgust, resuming its pacing. It’d worn deep tracks in his mind, tail whipping angrily behind it. All it needed was an opening, one sign of weakness, and then it’d strike. Ramming the breach, it pushed and pushed, demanding out, demanding their mate.
Soren gritted his fangs, showing a strong front against the angry turuk.
Leave it. She’s not ours to have. She never was.
But the beast only snorted, not finding that worth responding to.
It was like that—forearms scratched, mane tangled, eyes bloodshot, and beast lurking—that Balar finally found him. Both Soren and the turuk rumbled a warning; they weren’t to be trifled with. Not today.
Coming to a halt up the slope and out of danger of the brambles, Balar planted his fists on his hips and squinted down at Soren. “Here you are,” his brother boomed. “What are you doing here?”
“Working,” Soren muttered, turning his back.
“Making a mess of things, that’s what you’re doing.”
Soren lifted his face skywards, begging the goddess for patience. The last thing he needed now was a lecture from haughty, happily-mated Balar.
Glaring at his brother over his shoulder, he groaned to see the rest of them gathered just behind Balar. Kiri looked concerned, and even Akila and Diar did, too.
He snorted, turning away again. He didn’t need this. They didn’t understand.
His ear flicked backwards as Balar tramped down the slope noisily.
“Stay away from me,” Soren warned. “The turuk is close.”
“Good, perhaps I should talk to the beast since the man is so stubborn.”
Soren bit back a snarl. Undaunted, Balar sauntered around to face him. When Soren lifted his lip, revealing a fang in warning, his brother merely cocked a brow.
“Are you mad? Stay back,” Soren hissed. “It’s all I can do to keep it inside.”
“Then maybe you should listen to that damned beast for once and let it out,” Balar sighed. Sighed.
An indignant roar unleashed from his chest, blowing back Balar’s mane. That earned him both brows arching.
Balar called his bluster, shoving his shoulder. Soren stumbled back a step, shocked more than angry. Even his turuk momentarily stopped its snarling to huff in surprise.
“Go on,” goaded Balar. “Let it out. Get angry. Then maybe we can salvage this.”
Soren bared every fang and tooth at Balar, the need to pounce, to pummel that smug face with the broad side of his fist, consumed him. “You overstep, seska.”
“Maybe. But I think it’s well past time someone do it.”
Balar shoved him again, and Soren gnashed his teeth, every tendon straining as he held himself back. Balar stared down the lukan brazenly, unyielding. A partial shift rippled across Soren’s skin, and he howled again for his brother to get back.
His turuk battered the inside of his skull even as Balar pushed his shoulder again.
“You’d never hurt me or your kigara.”
“Never!” howled the turuk. Soren stumbled back, shaking his head violently. “There are many ways to hurt someone,” he reminded both the beast and Balar.
“I’m sure you can work it out between the two of you,” said Balar. Striding forward, he clapped a heavy hand on Soren’s shoulder, even as he snapped and snarled back. “But you have to want it.”
“You think I don’t want her?” Soren cried. “She is everything I could want. She is all I want!”
“Then claim her, damn you!” Shaking him fiercely, Balar shouted right back, “No one deserves happiness more than you! I know what you think of yourself, but damn it all, the pride doesn’t matter here. She’s your mate, your chance, and you’d let her slip through your claws?”
Soren shuddered, the shift writhing beneath his skin. “Can’t—force her—”
“Force her? That woman wants you, hurum-tu. She may even choose you, if you’d bother to ask.”
Soren yowled, smashing his paws into Balar’s chest. He’d meant to push his brother away, but his claws instead sank into Balar’s tunic and fur. He clung to Balar, desperate for—for—
“Imogen told me what happened last night. Your Maeve didn’t know about this new position. You still have a chance, seska. Which begs the question why you’re here, pulling weeds.”
“You know why,” Soren growled, heart breaking as he denied the hope that wanted to rush to fill in the cracks.
“Because you’re a stupid fucking idiot,” Balar growled right back, nodding as though they’d agreed. “Don’t be a coward. For once, stand up and claim what’s yours. Fight for it.”
Coward. The word tolled inside his head. His very soul withered to hear it, for he knew it to be true.
“If I fight, I lose.” That had always been true. Even when he wasn’t the smallest anymore, even when he proved a good hunter and strong male. Even in his anger now, against Balar he’d lose a fight—but not before inflicting unforgivable harm.
Which was why the lukan wasn’t allowed to rule him. Unfettered rage accomplished nothing except losing Soren the little he had. Violence wouldn’t have earned him a true place in their pride, and keeping Maeve with him wouldn’t win him her love.
“Would you?” Balar questioned. “Are you sure?”
…Yes.
The turuk seized on the momentary hesitation, throwing itself against the back of his skull.
“What if not fighting at all is also losing?”
Soren’s heart seized. Enket at inan! Strike him down, take him out of this misery! His head felt as though it might split down the middle, his overwrought mind spilling out.
Gripping Soren by the mane, Balar got a firm hold of him. “What is there to fight for if not kigara?”
To both of their surprise, it was Kiri who spoke up next—delivering the killing blow.
“You have to stop believing you’re unworthy, seska-ab. Before Maeve starts to believe it, too.”
The breath hissed out of Soren, and it was only Balar’s grip on him that kept him upright.
“Bintur…” Confronted with Kiri’s young face, even his thrashing turuk quieted. Kiri was their flesh, their cub—they could never hurt him.
Nodding, Kiri’s face fixed into a brave glare even though his eyes glittered with unshed tears. “You’ve sacrificed for everyone, Soren. Never thought of yourself at all. But it’s your time now. Don’t throw aside the gift you’ve been given.”
A guttural keen hollowed out Soren’s chest. “She means to leave,” he murmured.
Kiri shrugged. Shrugged. “Then go with her, hurum-tu.”
Soren’s ears rang, and he couldn’t help a gasping inhale, as though he’d been struck. “I-I can’t leave you.” His brothers, their pride, it was all he had.
“I’m grown now, seska-ab,” said Kiri. “I want to see more of this land. Perhaps even go to university. Can you imagine it—the first mantii in a university?” The boy grinned cheekily. “You don’t have to sacrifice for me. For any of us.”
“You know I’d choose Imogen over any of you in a moment,” Balar chuckled.
Soren gaped between the two of them.
“I can’t wait to find a mate and never hear any of you snoring ever again,” declared Diar, coming to stand beside Kiri.
“We came to this land looking for mates. All of us.” Akila shrugged, although something about his manner felt false. “Not just for Balar.”
“And isn’t that just the way of it, you two old bastards finding yours first.” Diar groaned, rolling his eyes as Kiri often did. “At least we’re still young and handsomer.” He ribbed Akila with his elbow, earning a grin that seemed forced.
Soren’s knees finally gave out from under him, and he slumped to the ground. Digging his claws into the dirt, he was left shaking, realizing…everything was quiet.
His turuk had lain down, content to laze. It’d only ever acted that way with Maeve.
What is this?
They’re right, said the turuk. Listen to the pride.
The lukan had never once thought such a thing before.
Descending to his knee, Balar grasped Soren’s shoulder to steady him. “We’ll always be brothers,” he said, “no matter what our pride becomes or where our paths may lead.”
Kiri squatted down to grin at Soren. “We’re out of your way now, Soren. Don’t you think you should get out of your own way, too?”
Such a wise cub, purred the turuk. We raised him well.
Together, his brothers pulled him up by his arms and set him right. With his feet under him, they pushed at his back, urging him up the slope.
“Go on,” Kiri laughed, “sha-het takal.”