Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
QUIN
The hatch opened onto a rush of wind strong enough to lift my hair from my shoulders and scatter it across my face. I caught the loose strands with one hand as I followed Vennox out of the bubble craft and stepped onto the island.
Salt struck me first, sharp and clean in the back of my throat.
Beneath it lingered the scent of stone baking under the rising twin suns and faintly green from the sparse vegetation clinging stubbornly to the exposed summit.
The ground beneath my boots was hard blue earth broken by flat slabs of pale rock, coarse grass, and low bushes shaped by the constant wind into hunched, twisted forms.
For several moments, I forgot to breathe.
The largest island rose beneath us as a low, flat-topped mountain.
From where we’d landed on the summit, the slopes fell away on every side, steep and rocky, dropping toward the sea in terraces of pale blue stone that the waves had carved and undercut over time.
Caverns pocked the stone below us, some no larger than shadows, others wide enough to have swallowed a house.
Beyond the summit, the Caspeen Sea stretched in every direction, dark blue water rolling beneath the twin suns in endless, churning folds.
Light fractured across the waves in broken silver paths.
Far below, water slammed against the craggy shoreline and exploded upward in bursts of white spray before sliding back between the rocks.
The second island sat close enough that a narrow strip of land connected it to the one beneath my feet, while the smallest rose farther out, completely surrounded by restless water.
It was beautiful in a wild, lonely way.
Then I remembered the tentacle.
The image returned with brutal clarity: dark flesh lifting from the sea, curling high above the waves, rows of pale gripping discs flashing before it crashed back into the water. My appreciation of the view ended abruptly.
I took one step backward, then another, until my shoulders met something cool and solid. The bubble craft's invisible hull pressed against my back, reassuring only because I could feel it.
"Can the squidlin reach us up here?"
Vennox had moved several feet away, scanning the field and the sky with the casual vigilance of someone who expected danger to announce itself from any direction. At my question, he turned toward me.
"No." His answer came without hesitation. "Vallon said the shoreline is too steep and crowded with rock. The squidlin cannot swim close enough to extend their tentacles onto the upper field."
I looked past him toward the cliff edge. "You’re sure?"
"I would not have brought you here otherwise."
"The exiles considered this place safe from squidlin.” He followed my gaze toward the broken stone around the island. “They encountered a wetlock once, however.”
My attention snapped back to him. "The dragon creature you told me about?”
"During suns-fall. It crossed the sea and attacked the settlement.
" His hand settled over the hilt of the sword at his hip as naturally as mine might have gone to the bio-analyzer I had forgotten in my room.
"Vallon told me everyone fled to the caves below.
The creature pursued him, Elise, and the young patooga, Chompers, into one of the cloaked crafts. "
I stared at him. "So, anything with wings can reach us out here?”
“Wetlocks are only active at suns-fall, during the dark hurs. Although no place outside the dome is without risk." He patted the sword at his side, his expression taking on that unwavering certainty I was beginning to associate with him. "You need not worry. I will protect you."
I could feel the truth of it through the faint connection between us, warm and solid beneath my sternum.
There was no doubt in him, no consideration that he might fail.
Vennox stood between me and the open island as though the Caspeen Sea, wetlocks, squidlin, and every other nightmare his world could produce would first have to go through him.
The feeling that rose inside me was too tender to examine closely, so I pushed it down.
"I know you will." The words slipped out before I could temper them. "You’re like my own personal silver slayer."
A perfectly arched silver brow lifted.
"Silver slayer?" he repeated, sounding both confused and entertained. "That’s how you think of me? As your personal protector?”
The way he repeated it made the teasing fall out of the moment. My pulse stumbled.
"You protected me on the anomaly planet," I said, feeling heat creep into my cheeks. "You were always there before I even knew I needed you." I laughed softly, shaking my head. "I don't even remember when I started thinking of you that way. It just... happened. I meant it as a compliment."
He closed the distance between us in two easy strides. His grin softened into quiet tenderness that touched the connection inside me and sent a slow warmth spreading outward.
"I find no insult in the title," he said. "Especially if I am yours."
The word hung between us. Yours.
Such a simple thing, but Vennox did not treat it casually.
Pleasure moved through our mingled essence, faint but unmistakable, and I understood what that small claim meant to him.
He expected me to leave. He had already made peace with losing me, or was pretending he had.
To be called mine, even in jest, had reached some guarded place inside him.
I should have corrected the misunderstanding, should have told him that was not what I meant, that I had only been joking, that he wasn’t mine.
Instead, I studied the silver male standing inches from me and felt the strange, undeniable truth pressing back. Somewhere along the way, I had begun thinking of him that way.
Mine.
The realization should have frightened me. Maybe it did. But beneath the fear was something hotter, a thing that felt less like surrender and more like finally admitting what had already changed.
"Then I guess silver slayer stays," I said softly.
His smile transformed. It was not a teasing curve but open and unguarded, filled with a happiness so pure it pressed gently against my sternum in a swirling ebb and flow.
"I like it," he said.
"I can tell."
"I like being your protector more."
The words settled low in my chest. I glanced away toward the sea, needing the distance even though I had no intention of moving from him. "You already decided that was your job."
"It is not a duty." His broad palm curved gently around my cheek, the heat of his scales sinking into my skin as he guided my face back toward his.
"Then what is it?"
His molten gaze did not waver. “A privilege.”
My throat tightened unexpectedly.
People had made promises to me before. They had offered help, loyalty, friendship, then disappeared the moment those things required effort. I had learned early that the safest way to avoid disappointment was to expect nothing from anyone.
Vennox was different in ways I still did not understand. His protection did not feel like a bargain or a trap. He gave it freely, even knowing I would someday leave him behind.
The wind gusted harder, carrying the scent of the sea between us. My shaw lifted from one shoulder, and Vennox caught the edge before it could slip farther. His fingers brushed the fabric back into place with care, covering the faint glow hidden beneath it without comment.
Then he offered me his hand.
I looked at his open palm, broad and silver beneath the growing light of the twin suns. Taking it felt like more than agreeing to follow him across the island. I placed my hand in his anyway.
His fingers closed gently around mine, and that quiet pulse of happiness bloomed inside me once more. He turned toward the path leading down into the caverns, but for a moment, I remained where I was, holding his hand and looking at the male I had accidentally called mine.
The strangest part was that I did not want to take it back.
Still holding Vennox's hand, I followed him away from the broad summit and toward a narrow trail disappearing between weathered outcroppings of stone.
The steady wind sweeping across the island faded with every step we descended, trading the sharp scent of salt for the cooler, mineral smell of ancient rock.
Tufts of hardy grass clung stubbornly to cracks in the stone, their blades bending in the lingering breeze before giving way to the shelter of the mountain.
Natural steps emerged beneath our feet. Some were broad and shallow, others uneven enough that I had to watch where I placed my boots.
Vennox never released my hand, slowing whenever the footing became uncertain.
The farther we descended, the quieter the island became.
The crashing surf remained a constant presence, but it reached us now as a distant, rhythmic murmur echoing through the caverns instead of the roar it had been atop the summit.
"The island appears barren from above," he continued, "but beneath it are many connected caverns. The exiles made their homes here until Huren was reclaimed."
The passage widened, opening into a cavern so large I instinctively slowed.
Sunlight poured through broad natural openings carved into the seaward wall, illuminating the interior in soft bands.
Beyond them, the Caspeen Sea stretched endlessly toward the horizon, the waves flashing silver where the twin suns caught their crests.
The cave itself remained almost entirely natural.
Broad stone walls curved overhead, worn smooth by untold ages.
I slowed to take it all in.
Beside one of the broad openings overlooking the sea sat a small wooden table with two simple stools, positioned to catch both the morning light and the sweeping view of the Caspeen.
The waves rolled endlessly beyond the stone opening, their steady rhythm echoing softly through the cavern while the breeze carried the scent of salt and distant rain inside.
The table had already been set.