Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Rask’s adorable not-dog tilts his head, a forked purple tongue lolling between his sharp black teeth. They still remind me of a shark’s, but the rest of him belongs firmly in Good Boy territory.
I’m not sure when I’ll stop being pleasantly surprised to find him waiting for me. It’s been almost a week since Rask snuck me out of my room, and so far, this silly beast has been the most dependable male around.
The others are decidedly… not.
Zolkan still takes most meals with me. But some days?
He simply doesn’t show up. Which might be where Rask gets the idea that we should only spar on the most random days.
So far, I’ve only been to his training tent a handful of times.
He always lets me win, in the end, though I have managed to actually flip him a few times.
He seems profoundly relieved each time. Probably because it means he can stop spending time with me soon.
I keep reminding myself that being near me is uncomfortable for them—painful, even. But it still sucks.
Of the three of them, Cylus is the only one who has steadfastly kept up his end of our deal. Though over the last few days, it seems like he’s trying to win some sort of contest for Least Words Used In Every Conversation.
The guy snaps orders, teaching me how to wrap sprained tails and patch torn wings with a mixture of monosyllables and grumbling mutters. Occasionally, I’ll ask a question which requires an actual explanation—and he sighs as if I’ve asked him to carry the entire planet on his back while he answers.
Yesterday, when I asked him how knots work, the alpha-hole actually pretended not to hear me. When that didn’t fly—obviously—he shoved a holotab at me and grunted, “Here.”
I barely know enough Roktusian to write my own name, but the pictures on the projection were clear enough.
I gathered that the knots expand to hold in all the good stuff after sex.
Cylus didn’t deign to answer any of my follow-up inquiries, aside from confirming that alphas can will their knots to release as they see fit—and, apparently, omegas have a special pheromone that speeds that process up during their heats.
It was barely any info at all, but I hoarded every bit, knowing it would be exhausting to get any more out of him.
Apparently, his tent isn’t a place for chit-chat. Not even with patients. Once, I tried to make conversation with a female alpha who needed her ankle mended and he growled. When a different lieutenant dared to make me laugh, I thought Cylus would huff and puff and blow the zvorn down.
By the end of his “lesson” on how stupidly grumpy Roktusian males can be, I was ready to smack him.
Between that mess, being left on my own for breakfast, and forgotten by Rask once again…
It seems safer for me to spend the afternoon wandering the palace than trying to convince Cylus he’s my “friend.”
I pause on the bottom step of the lower veranda, frowning at the grass-like turf spread before me.
Being that this place is literally carved into the side of a mountain, its grounds aren’t the lush, sprawling gardens I used to see on Bridgerton.
It only has one “green space”—a courtyard off the side of the morning room, situated against the very center of the palace.
Of course, it isn’t actually green. More like a very light seafoam color. Instead of blades, their grass reminds me of clover. A low woven carpet of rounded leaves, mixed with their pinkish, iridescent soil.
God. Even the dirt here is beautiful. How is a girl supposed to hate a place with pink dirt and pinker dogs? Where every man has two dicks?
Addy would be in heaven.
A pang strikes my heart every time I think of my friends. Missing them is somehow getting harder. Probably because this feels more permanent every day.
Rask’s sweet pup must sense my stupid scent shifting, because he lopes to my side, pressing his enormous head into the side of my ribs.
It tickles, and I giggle, letting my arm fall over his neck before I remember Norabi’s warnings about hoxuds and their alleged ferocity.
Which is why they don’t name their pets.
“Hoxuds are war beasts, omega,” she had scolded, rolling her eyes.
Though, when the magenta hound boops my hand with his wet purple nose? It’s sort of hard to summon any kind of fear.
“Screw Rask and Norabi,” I announce, letting my new buddy stay pressed to my side as we cross the courtyard. “I’m going to name you without them.”
The General’s hoxud gives me side-eye, but chuffs. I keep talking, asking him his feelings on some of the names I’ve brainstormed during my long, silent nights.
“What about…”
I swear the dog listens, his pointed ears pricking toward me while I list out options. All of them are rough, rhotic sounds or things that start with Z. Not my favorite for a creature so cute, but it’s not like I can call this war beast Dave or Stanley.
I’m so distracted, it takes almost ten minutes for me to realize he’s leading me.
While I was talking, we cleared the not-garden and ducked under an arch of fat, blush berries on the far side of the clearing.
On the other side, there’s a winding path I never noticed before.
We’ve already walked quite a way down it—which means we’re probably almost halfway around the mountain by now.
When I turn to peer through the hedges surrounding us, I discover a different view than the one from the palace. I squint, trying to make it out despite the ice-blue fern leaves in my face.
Rask’s not-dog makes his chuffing noise, nudging me again. More insistent this time.
“Alright, alright,” I mutter. “You want your walkies. I can look later.”
Satisfied, he trots alongside me, picking up speed when the end of the path comes into view. I gather up my skirt, laughing while I chase after him. “Buddy, what are you—”
Oh.
Zolkan.
The King of Khanos sits in the center of the small, rocky clearing beyond the walkway’s end.
He’s wearing his usual leather breastplate and breeches, but there’s something different about him today. It takes a moment for me to recognize—this is the first time I’ve ever seen him at ease.
I’m used to his implacable intensity. Here, though? Now?
He’s… still.
With one leg extended in front of him and the other bent, propping up his bulging muscle-clad arm, Zolkan stares straight ahead. His shoulders aren’t bunched, his tail doesn’t whip. Even his dark violet eyes seem restful, ponderously fixed on some distant point.
An unwelcome stab of pity sticks in my gullet. How many problems does this guy have to face every day?
Come to think of it, I have no idea what goes into ruling an entire planet. The responsibility of that—even just thinking the words—squashes all the air in my lungs.
Chagrin spins into my stomach. I trip to a halt. This is probably the one moment of peace he gets all day. I shouldn’t—
But Rask’s mutt is already moving. Barking out his coughing chuff.
Shit.
I expect Zolkan’s entire body to go taut, his familiar wariness returning all at once. Instead, he keeps his gaze on the horizon… and smiles.
Wry, but beautiful, he flashes his white teeth with a small shake of his head. “Well, come on, then,” he calls.
For a second, I think he’s spotted me, hiding around the corner. He’s talking to the not-dog, though, chuckling as the creature bounds out of the hedge and practically pounces on Zolkan. The king laughs—a rich, rumbling sound that sends goosebumps sweeping over my exposed skin.
Shit, shit, shit.
He must not be able to sense the wave of perfume that rolls off me right away. Instead, he hooks his right arm over the hoxud, petting the hound’s magenta flank as he murmurs, “I wondered if you’d show up, old friend.”
His tone makes it sound like the two of them have a standing date. Which makes sense, given the way the beast guided me straight to this remote cliff.
Oh my God. I can’t help the disbelieving giggle that tickles my throat as I realize, Rask’s dog is cheating on him.
It would be funnier if it wasn’t so sweet. While I spy, the pup licks Zolkan’s cheek and noses at his shoulder. Zolkan gives another huff of amusement, smoothing his brawny, three-fingered hand over the hound’s head.
“Have you been guarding her like we discussed?”
The dog gives a yap that actually sounds affirmative. And rightfully so. He has been guarding me.
… because this male told him to?
“Good.” Zolkan scratches behind the hoxud’s ears, his expression turning wistful as he leans back to look the hound in the eye. Concern weighs down the Zortaire’s slashing brows. “How is she today?”
My heart squeezes, then drops. I know he has to be talking about me… I just never expected him to be so earnest.
The urge to slip away undetected rears up again. I take a step back, but the wind picks up, gusting through the hedge-lined passage. Blowing my scent over the alpha.
Now he stiffens, snapping into the tense posture I’m more used to. “Sofi?”
Have I mentioned: shit?
Feeling seven kinds of awkward, I stumble into view. “H-hey. Sorry to, um—sorry. I didn’t think there would be anyone up here.”
Zolkan’s jaw clenches along with the fingers on his left hand. “It is not safe for you to wander alone, omega.”
For some reason, his sudden flip from vulnerability to polished command rankles me. I cock my hip and prop my fist on it, narrowing my gaze at him. “Well, since everyone I was supposed to see today either bailed or no-showed, I didn’t really have many options for companionship.”
To my surprise, Zolkan winces. When he doesn’t argue, I venture closer, finally coming around the last of the bushes.
The view stops me in my tracks. A gasp whizzes down my throat as my hand flies up to clasp at my chest.
Holy—