Chapter 31
LIA
Iwake to warmth.
Not the harsh heat of the desert sun, but the steady, living kind. The kind that breathes and shifts and reminds you that you are not alone. Rakkh is curled around me, one arm heavy across my waist, his wing draped partially over us both like an instinctive shield—even in sleep.
For a moment, I lie still and listen.
The camp is quiet in that pre-dawn way, when the world hasn’t decided whether it’s ready to begin again. A distant ember crackles. Wind moves through canvas and sand. Somewhere farther off, something small and nocturnal skitters—then goes still.
Rakkh stirs when I shift, his hold tightening reflexively before easing again. His eyes open, molten gold catching the faint light that seeps through the tent seams.
“You are awake,” he murmurs.
“So are you,” I whisper back.
“I woke because you did.” His thumb traces a slow, absent line along my hip. Gently claiming without demanding, acknowledging that I’m real and here. “Are you well?”
I nod, then pause. “I think… I am now.”
That earns me a soft huff of breath—almost a smile. He leans down, pressing his forehead to mine again—the gesture familiar already in a way that makes my chest ache.
“You stayed,” he says quietly.
“So did you.”
“I always would have.” There is no drama in the words. No vow spoken for effect. Just truth, offered plainly. “Even if the ship had chosen otherwise. Even if the world did.”
Something settles in me at that. Not the dizzy rush of adrenaline and new love like before, but something deeper. Rooted.
Outside, light begins to creep into the desert, thin and pale at first. Tajss isn’t healed. It won’t be for a long time, but it’s alive. And so are we.
“We’ll have to tell them,” I say softly. “About what comes next—the signal.”
Rakkh nods once.
“We will. And we will face that when it arrives.” His arm tightens, anchoring me. “Today, we live.”
I smile against his chest, breathing him in—scales and heat and the faint scent of sand and fire. Today, we live. And whatever comes after—war, answers, or echoes from the stars—it can wait just a little longer.
For now, the desert wakes. And so do we.
I know, in a deep and pervading way, that the saying of the Zmaj is true.
Tajss provides.