Chapter 21
Enslak
The quarters were too nice.
That's what hit me first when the door sealed behind us.
Not the size—though they were spacious, bigger than anything I'd had rights to in...
well, ever. Not the viewport showing stars I couldn't yet name.
Not even the bed that looked like it could actually fit me without my feet hanging off the edge.
It was the ours part.
Mine and Niki's. A space where nobody would interrupt. Nobody watching. Nobody deciding what happened next.
"This is nice." Niki moved to the viewport, already peeling off the tactical gear she'd worn on the Bardaga. She changed into gray pants that hung loose on her hips. Simple black tank top. Bare feet on the cool floor. She looked comfortable. Unguarded. The way she'd been on Avalon.
"Yeah." I came up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist. I'd ditched the formal uniform the second we'd gotten here—just kept the dark pants. The jacket they'd tried to give me was still hanging in the closet, untouched. Too stiff. Too much like a costume. "But I miss Avalon."
"Me too." She leaned back against my chest, her skin warm through the thin fabric. "It was peaceful there. Just us."
"We can go back." The words came out before I'd really thought them through. "After..."
"After what?"
"After I meet with my family." My stomach tightened. The words felt heavy. Complicated.
She turned in my arms, looked up at me with those dark eyes that saw too much. "Do you want to? Or do you feel obligated?"
"Both." I admitted it because lying to her was impossible. "I want to know them. Want to remember more. But I'm also..." I paused, searched for words that fit. "Scared. What if I can't be who they remember? What if I'm too different now?"
"Then you're different." She said it like it was simple. Like it didn't matter. "That's okay. You don't have to be who you were before. You just have to be who you are now."
"And who am I now?"
"You're Enslak." Her fingertips touched my cheek, gentle and sure. "You're a survivor. A fighter. A protector. You're my mate. That's enough."
"Is it?"
"Yes." She pulled me down and kissed me, soft and certain. "More than enough."
I kissed her back, lost myself in it. In the taste of her. In the feeling of her body pressed against mine. In the way she made everything else fade to background noise.
When we broke apart, I rested my forehead against hers, our breath mingling. "I love you."
"I love you too." She smiled. "Now—when do you want to meet with your family?"
"Tomorrow." The word came out rough. "Tonight is just for us."
"Okay." She took my hand and led me toward the bed. "Then let's make tonight count."
We made love slowly. Tenderly. Taking our time. Every touch felt sacred. Every kiss felt like a promise. And when we finally came together, the bond between us flared bright and strong—a living thing that pulsed with warmth and light.
Afterward, lying tangled in the sheets, I felt more at peace than I had in I couldn't remember how long.
"Thank you," I whispered.
"For what?"
"Everything. For saving me. For believing in me. For loving me."
"Always." She whispered it back. "I'll always love you."
I held her close and let myself drift, knowing that whatever tomorrow brought, we'd face it together.
The next morning I stood outside Mother's private sitting room trying to remember how to breathe.
My heart was doing that thing where it felt too big for my chest. Like it might crack my ribs if it beat any harder. Niki squeezed my hand and I knew she felt the same beat echoed in her own chest.
I'd finally put on the formal uniform they'd given me.
Deep blue fabric with silver threading that caught the light.
Cut to fit my larger frame but still elegant somehow.
The high collar felt wrong against my throat—too much like the collar I'd worn for a century.
Silver clasps ran down the front, each one bearing the crest of Vaktaire.
The pants were tailored perfectly, tucked into polished black boots that made almost no sound on the station's floors.
I looked like a prince.
Like someone important.
It felt like wearing someone else's skin.
Beside me, Niki had chosen something that balanced formality with her own style.
A deep burgundy dress that fell to mid-thigh.
Structured fabric but not stiff. Long sleeves.
Modest neckline. Simple black boots to her knees.
Practical but elegant. She'd left her hair down, dark waves falling past her shoulders.
She looked beautiful. Professional. Entirely herself.
She squeezed my hand. "You've got this."
"What if—"
"No what-ifs." She rose on her toes and kissed me. "Just go in there and be yourself. That's all they want."
I nodded. Took a breath. Opened the door.
The scent hit me first.
Flowers. Sweet and floral. Like the night-blooming ones that grew wild in Vaktaire's valleys. Mother must've found a way to cultivate them here, or something similar.
The familiarity of it punched through my chest.
Memory surfaced without warning. Sudden and complete.
I was seven, running through those valleys with Charick and Kavak.
Our laughter echoing off the mountains. Father had taken us camping to teach us to track.
To hunt. Mother had stayed behind at the lodge, but when we returned at sunset, she'd been waiting.
Flowers woven into her hair. Her voice warm with love.
"My precious boys."
I'd forgotten that.
Forgotten so much.
But standing here now, breathing in that familiar scent, it all came rushing back with such clarity it made my chest ache.
The sitting room was exactly as fragments of memory told me it should be. Cozy. Lived-in. Not the formal receiving chambers Mother used for official business. This was her private space.
Soft cushions in deep burgundy and gold scattered across low seating.
Woven tapestries hung on the walls, depicting the mountains of Vaktaire—my true home before everything fell apart.
A small table in the corner held smooth river rocks, the ones we used to collect as children during summer trips to the northern territories.
They were all there.
Mother sat in a velvet chair with Cullen beside her, both wearing the formal robes of the Alliance Prime. But despite the regalia, her face was soft. Vulnerable. Her eyes already bright with unshed tears as she looked at me.
Charick and Kavak stood on the other side in Alliance military dress, their uniforms marking their rank and station. Charick bore the marks of a chieftain and a new scar along his jaw that I didn't remember—recent enough that it was still pink.
Kavak's hand kept moving to his collar in a nervous habit I recognized from childhood.
Two human females were with them.
Olivia, Kavak's mate, had bright blue eyes and an easy smile. Beside her stood Willa, Charick's mate, with long brown hair and a soft, comfortable presence.
But what made my breath catch was the small child sitting on Willa's lap.
The boy appeared to be two or three years old, with Charick's dark hair sticking up in adorable tufts and curious gold eyes that matched mine exactly.
He wore tiny dark pants and a miniature version of the Alliance uniform jacket, clearly made just for him and crafted from soft fabric that wouldn't restrict his movement.
The sleeves were rolled up slightly to reveal chubby little arms. His small feet were bare, and his tiny toes curled and uncurled as he stared at me with complete fascination.
My nephew.
I had a nephew.
The thought struck me with unexpected force. While I'd been locked in a cell and fighting in pits, life had continued around me. My brothers had found mates, built families, and created something beautiful and new.
And I'd missed all of it.
I would hate the Ulkommenian forever for that.
Niki's hand tightened in mine as we stepped through the doorway together, and I felt her presence beside me like an anchor—steady, warm, and real.
Mother rose immediately, her robes rustling softly as she moved, the heavy fabric swaying with each step. Her smile was bright. "Enslak. Niki."
She crossed to us and pulled me into an embrace.
I felt the cool silk of her robes against my hands and smelled that familiar floral scent, stronger now, mixed with something uniquely her. Then she turned to Niki and embraced her just as warmly. I saw Niki's surprise at being included so immediately, so completely.
"I'm so glad you're both here," Mother said.
Her arms around me felt both familiar and foreign. I remembered her embraces from childhood—warm and safe and smelling of those flowers—but this one carried something else. Relief that I'd finally come home.
"Thank you for having us," Niki said, her voice easy and warm.
Mother pulled back, her hands still gripping my arms, her eyes searching my face. The silver circlet caught the light as she tilted her head. "You look like yourself. More yourself."
"I'm getting there," I said, the words coming easier now. "Still gaps. Still things I don't remember. But it's better."
"That's all I could hope for." Her voice cracked as fresh tears spilled over. "I'm so sorry, Enslak. So sorry we didn't find you sooner. That we gave up—"
"Mother." I covered her hands with mine, feeling the contrast between her delicate fingers and my larger ones with their elongated claws that would never go away. "You thought I was dead. You had every reason to believe that. You can't blame yourself for grieving."
"But I should have known," she said, her voice breaking. "A mother should know. Should feel it. I should have kept searching—"
"You did everything you could," I said firmly, meaning it. "And I'm here now. That's what matters."
She nodded, wiping at her eyes, but I could see the guilt still weighing on her. It would take time for her to forgive herself. Maybe she never fully would.
But I could give her this—my presence, my recovery, my forgiveness.