Chapter 30
Kaede
The nestbed was warm. Selena lay between him and Zyxel, her breathing deep and even, her face slack with the kind of rest she hadn’t allowed herself in weeks. The soft swell of her belly pressed against his forearm where it draped across her waist. Their daughter.
He watched her for a long moment. Counted the slow pulse of bioluminescence along her shoulder—pink fading to purple fading to blue, her spots cycling through colors even in sleep.
Her lips were parted slightly—probably being comforted in a dreamscape with her Shadow.
One hand curled against Zyxel’s chest, the other tucked beneath her chin like one of their cubs.
Beautiful. Fragile. Carrying more weight than any single being should ever have to bear.
The neon-green thread between them hummed with contentment—hers, bleeding through even in unconsciousness. Last night had settled something in her. The desperate edge that had been sawing at her composure since they’d left Destima had finally dulled.
Good. She needed more of that. More rest. More peace.
More time he couldn’t give her.
Kaede extracted himself from the nestbed with the precision of a man who’d learned to move without sound long before he’d learned to love.
Selena stirred but didn’t wake—instinctively curling closer to Zyxel’s warmth as the space beside her cooled.
Zyxel shifted closer to her, his consciousness brushing the edge of awareness before settling back into sleep.
He stood at the edge of the bed, watching them. His star and the male she’d bonded. Two of the most important beings in his universe, tangled together in the sheets he’d just left with the new clanbrother who appeared like him.
Something possessive flickered through his chest. He let it pass. Zyxel had earned his place. More importantly, Selena had chosen him—and her choices were sacred, even the ones that made Kaede’s teeth itch.
He grabbed his living suit disc from the side table and activated it. The smart fabric crawled up his body, settling into its default configuration—dark, practical, unremarkable. The suit of a shadow, not a consort.
Old habits.
He slipped through the door into the adjacent sitting room, leaving it cracked just enough that he’d hear if she woke.
REI materialized before he’d taken three steps. Her teal form shimmered in the low light, hooded and patient, arms crossed in that gesture she’d developed to express disapproval without words.
“You slept four hours,” she said. “An improvement, though still inadequate.”
“Good morning to you too.” Kaede moved to the viewport, checking the stars streaking past. Still on course. Still two days out from the CEG Station. “Status report.”
“The Abyss remains on projected trajectory. No anomalies detected. The Royal Guard has completed their rotation without incident.” REI paused, her hooded head tilting. “Eshe has requested a meeting with you regarding defensive formations for the station approach.”
“After breakfast.” He didn’t turn from the viewport. “What about Ryzen?”
“The Verya male has confined himself to his quarters. He has made no attempt to contact Selena since the training session yesterday.” A beat. “His biometrics suggest he is meditating. Or sulking. The readings are remarkably similar.”
Kaede’s mouth twitched. Trust REI to deliver tactical intelligence with editorial commentary.
Golden light rippled at the edge of his vision.
Euouae materialized beside REI, his ethereal form solidifying into the shape he preferred—the one Selena had grown accustomed to.
Long golden hair pulled up in a high ponytail, sleeveless vest hanging open over a bare chest, baggy pants that cinched at his ankles.
He looked like a warrior poet from some ancient Earth dynasty, if that warrior poet were made of living sunlight.
The Oetsae emerged directly from Selena’s sleeping form, his projection tethered to her even across the room.
“She sleeps deeply,” Euouae said, his mental voice carrying the weight of observation. “The intimacy last night released significant tension. Her cortisol levels have dropped by thirty-two percent.”
“And the baby?”
“Thriving.” Euouae’s golden form flickered with something that might have been satisfaction. “Your daughter is remarkably resilient. She has already begun developing the neural pathways necessary for psychic sensitivity. Faster than expected.”
Kaede absorbed that. His daughter. Psychically sensitive. Growing inside the woman he’d built his entire existence around.
The weight of it never got lighter.
“I can extend her sleep,” Euouae offered. His ponytail swayed as he tilted his head, studying Kaede with those ancient, knowing eyes. “Keep her under longer. She needs the rest, and her body would not resist the assistance.”
Kaede considered it. The tactical advantage was obvious—a well-rested Selena was a more effective Selena, and effective was what they needed when they walked into the CEG’s political minefield. But—
“No.” He turned from the viewport to face the two Oetsae projections. “She’d be furious if she found out we manipulated her rest. Even with good intentions.”
“The intention does not change the outcome.”
“No. But it changes how she trusts us.” Kaede’s jaw tightened.
“She’s given up enough control over her own life.
Her body, her choices, her time—everyone wants a piece of her.
Everyone has opinions about what she should do, how she should rest, what risks she should take.
” He shook his head. “We don’t add to that.
Not unless her life is in immediate danger. Let her wake naturally.”
Euouae studied him for a long moment. Something shifted in his golden features—respect, perhaps, or understanding.
“And if she pushes herself again?” The Oetsae’s voice was gentle but pointed. “She has a habit of ignoring her body’s limitations.”
“Then we make sure she doesn’t have to.” Kaede’s gaze drifted back toward the cracked door. The nestbed. The sleeping figures within. “That’s why I’m awake.”
Movement stirred in the bedroom. A shift of fabric, a change in breathing patterns. Zyxel’s consciousness rising toward wakefulness, as the Rkekh male registered Selena’s warmth against him and Kaede’s absence.
Good. He’d wanted to speak with him anyway.
Kaede moved to the doorway and caught Zyxel’s eye through the crack. A subtle gesture—out here, quietly—that needed no words between warriors.
Zyxel extracted himself from Selena with the same care Kaede had used.
His demi-human form moved like water—silent, controlled, nothing like the serpentine bulk of his Ezzaska body.
He pressed a kiss to Selena’s hair before slipping through the door, and something in Kaede’s chest unclenched at the tenderness of it.
Good. He was learning.
Zyxel joined him in the sitting room, rolling his shoulders as if adjusting to the smaller frame of his humanoid shape. The chartreuse of his eyes caught the ambient light—alert, assessing. A predator’s gaze in a scholar’s body.
“You wanted to speak with me.” Not a question. Zyxel had spent centuries reading the subtle cues of those around him, cataloging intentions the way other beings cataloged stars.
“I did.” Kaede gestured toward the seating area. Didn’t take a chair himself—this wasn’t a casual conversation. “We need to discuss your role for the rest of this trip.”
Zyxel’s brow furrowed slightly. “My role? I assumed—”
“You assumed you’d shadow her. Guard her. Intervene if anyone threatened her safety.” Kaede crossed his arms. “That’s not enough. Not anymore.”
Something flickered across Zyxel’s features. Uncertainty, maybe. Or the sharp edge of wounded pride. “You doubt my capabilities?”
“No.” Kaede held his gaze. “I’m raising them.”
Silence. The kind that held weight.
“I’m going to be at the captain’s chair most of this trip,” Kaede continued.
“Coordinating with Eshe. Running tactical simulations. Managing the approach to the CEG with my ship’s Oetsae team and every contingency that could go wrong once we’re there.
I can’t be with her every moment.” He paused, letting that sink in. “You can.”
Zyxel’s spine straightened. “You want me to protect her.”
“I want you to care for her.” The distinction mattered. Kaede made sure his tone carried the weight of it. “Not as a bodyguard. As a mate.”
What they’d had just done was reminder that the Rkekh had earned his place in ways Kaede couldn’t dismiss, even if the possessive creature in his chest sometimes wanted to.
“She collapsed yesterday,” Kaede said quietly.
“Passed out from exhaustion because she refused to rest. Because she’s so busy carrying everyone else’s weight that she forgets her own body has limits.
” His jaw tightened. “That can’t happen again.
Not on this trip. Not when we’re walking into hostile territory with enemies who would love nothing more than to find her weakened. ”
Zyxel’s expression shifted. The uncertainty bled away, replaced by something harder. Determination.
“What do you need from me?”
“Make sure she eats. Regularly. The pregnancy is demanding more from her body than she’ll admit, and she has a habit of forgetting meals when she’s stressed.
” Kaede ticked the items off like a mission brief.
“Make sure she rests. Not just sleeps—rests. Sitting. Relaxing. Not running tactical scenarios in her head or worrying about every member of her scattered constellation.”
“And if she resists?”
Kaede’s mouth curved. Not quite a smile—something sharper.
“Then you remind her that she’s not just carrying herself anymore.
She’s carrying our daughter. She’s carrying your bond and the rest of our clan’s.
She’s carrying our cubs hopes that the war will end and their family would be whole once again.
She’s carrying the hope of every species that’s counting on her to end this war. ”
The words landed with the weight he’d intended. Zyxel’s chartreuse eyes darkened, the predator in him rising to meet the challenge.
“You’re testing me.” Not accusation. Observation.
“I’m trusting you.” Kaede stepped closer, close enough that Zyxel had to tilt his head to meet his gaze.
“There’s a difference. Tests are pass-fail.
Trust is earned, maintained, or destroyed.
” He held Zyxel’s stare. “You bonded with my nestqueen. You carry a piece of her soul. That makes you family, whether either of us chose it or not. But family means more than blood. It means responsibility.”
Something shifted in Zyxel’s posture. The lingering tension of a male trying to prove himself to an alpha—a dynamic Kaede recognized because he’d been on both sides of it—bled away. What remained was steadier. Calmer.
Resolved.
“I won’t fail her.” Zyxel’s voice dropped, rough with emotion he didn’t try to hide. “She gave me something I never thought I’d have. A bond. A place. A—” He caught himself, jaw working.
“A home,” Kaede finished quietly.
Zyxel’s eyes flicked to his. Surprised. Vulnerable in a way the ancient Rkekh rarely allowed himself to be.
“Yes.”
Kaede nodded. He understood that feeling better than he’d ever be able to articulate. The strange, terrifying miracle of belonging to someone after a lifetime of standing alone.
“Then don’t fail us.” The command was gentler than he’d intended.
“Take care of our nestqueen. Keep her calm. Keep her fed. Keep her from running herself into the ground before we reach the station.” He paused.
“And when we get there—when things go wrong, because they will—make sure she knows she’s not alone. ”
Zyxel straightened. The movement was subtle but deliberate—a warrior accepting an order he intended to execute with everything he had.
“I swear it.”
Something unwound in Kaede’s chest. Not fully—the tension of responsibility never fully released—but enough. Enough to let him breathe.
Behind them, Euouae’s golden form shimmered.
REI’s teal presence brightened slightly—an acknowledgment, perhaps, of the exchange she’d witnessed.
Two Oetsae observing their hosts navigate the complicated terrain of trust and territory and the woman who’d somehow become the center of both their worlds.
From the nestbed came a soft sound. Movement. Selena stirring, reaching for warmth that was no longer there.
Kaede’s heart clenched.
“Go.” He nodded toward the door. “She’s waking. Be there when she opens her eyes.”
Zyxel didn’t hesitate. He moved back toward the bedroom with purpose—not the prowling vigilance of a bodyguard, but the quiet certainty of a mate returning to his partner’s side.
Kaede watched him go.
Then he turned toward the bridge.
Two days. Two days to prepare for every possible catastrophe the CEG could throw at them. Two days to coordinate defenses, review intelligence, and plan contingencies for contingencies.
He’d make sure they were ready.
REI fell into step beside him—or as close to steps as an ethereal projection could manage.
“That was well done,” she said quietly. “Delegating care. Trusting another with her wellbeing.”
“Don’t make it sound like personal growth.” Kaede didn’t slow his stride. “It’s tactical necessity.”
“Of course.” REI’s tone carried the particular dryness she’d learned from observing him. “Purely tactical.”
He ignored her.
Through their bond, he felt Selena wake. Felt her confusion at finding Zyxel beside her and him gone. Felt the brief spike of worry smooth out as she registered his presence elsewhere on the ship—alive, alert, already working.
Love brushed against him through the neon-green thread. Warm. Steady. Eternal.
He let himself feel it for exactly three seconds.
Then he locked it away, set his jaw, and walked toward the war.