Chapter 10 #2
Her voice is quiet. Careful. Not timid. She sounds like she is deciding what kind of male I will be before she allows herself simple questions.
I answer at once. Let her learn that questions are permitted.
“The camp is not close to the capital.”
She waits. I understand then that human answers need more than that.
“Several hours by transport.”
Her fingers ease slightly on the frame.
“Into the wild lands.”
“Yes.”
She looks back out the window. “So this is the last city I’ll see for a while.”
Not a question.
I study her for a moment before answering. “Yes.”
She nods once. I can scent the shift in her again. Not panic. Grief. Thin and controlled, like the rest of her feelings. Leaving one world. Entering another. The body knows the cost even when the mind has already chosen.
I want to tell her something useful. That she will be fed before nightfall.
That she will be given rest. That the camp will not touch what is mine without permission.
That her room, my tent, her clothing, all of it is already being prepared.
That I will not let her be handled roughly.
That I see the fear and do not despise it.
The words gather and stop. Too much.
So I give her one truth instead. “You will not be harmed on my road.”
Her gaze lifts sharply to mine.
There. That matters. Not because she fully believes me yet. She does not. But because some part of her needed to hear me define the road as mine. Safe because it is mine. Protected because she is under me now.
Her mouth parts slightly. “I didn’t think I would be.”
No. That is not what she means. She means she did not know enough to think one way or the other. I can hear the difference.
“Now you do,” I say.
Silence settles again, but not the same silence as before. My words live inside this one now.
The city thins. Stone becomes lower walls, outer compounds, supply yards, transport enclosures, then long roads bordered by tall grasses and dark trees. Even the air through the filtered vents changes. Less layered city scent. More open ground. Sun-warmed earth. Water somewhere in the distance.
Once, through the side panel, I catch a small herd enclosure beyond a low wall, broad-backed animals moving in the dust. Not drenak. Smaller city stock. Keandra notices too. Her face turns slightly toward the vent, like she is trying to sort what she smells.
“Different,” she says under her breath.
I should let it pass. Instead I answer. “The city smells wrong.”
That startles something close to amusement across her face before she can hide it. It is small. Quick. Gone almost at once.
But I see it.
My whole body stills at the sight. That expression belongs nowhere except my camp. My furs. My morning light. It should not happen first in a transport leaving the capital.
Desire hits low and hot. Not because she smiled. Because I caused it.
I say nothing and force myself to look away for one long breath.
Dangerous. Every small thing with her is dangerous.
The transport hits a rougher section of road and jolts. Keandra catches herself against the side brace, but the movement throws her slightly off balance anyway. My body reacts before thought. I lean forward, hand half-lifted.
She freezes.
I stop.
For one suspended second, the space between us becomes the most important thing in the transport.
I lower my hand slowly. Another discipline.
“You should use the shoulder restraint,” I say instead.
She glances at the strap beside her seat as if she did not realize what it was for. Human city transports use different harness systems. Of course she did not know.
Without a word, I reach for my own restraint and fasten it across my chest first.
Then I wait.
Understanding crosses her face. Not full ease. But enough.
She fastens hers.
Good.
I settle back, though my blood is too warm from nearly touching her. Not because the touch would have been wrong. Because it would have been too easy to keep going once I felt her.
That thought alone is enough to tighten my jaw again.
My wife.
The last of the city falls behind us. The road opens. Sky stretches wider above the transport roof. Grasslands roll out in long gold-green reaches broken by darker brush and stone. Wind strikes the sides harder now. The sun lowers toward late day.
This is better. This is ground I understand.
As the transport leaves the capital fully, something in me eases for the first time since entering the government building. Not because the hunger is less. Because the road ahead leads only toward home.
I watch Keandra watch the world. Her eyes move over everything. The breadth of the land. The changing light. The sheer open size of it. Fear is in her. I can scent it. But alongside it now is something else. Wonder, maybe. Or shock softening into attention.
Good. Let the land begin working on her. Let the air do what city walls could not. Let her see that my world is not only law and pressure and the expectation of children. It is real ground. Real sky. Real weather. Real life outside hunger and corridors and locked doors.
I want her under that sky with my scent on her.
The thought hits so hard I almost shut my eyes against it.
Not yet. Soon. But not yet.
For now, I watch. I keep the ride smooth. Keep my warriors forward and silent. Keep every eye and instinct fixed on the female across from me.
The papers in the office made the marriage legal. This road is making it real. Because with every mile between the capital and Vek Talan, she leaves one world farther behind and comes deeper into mine.