Chapter 31
Selena
Two days.
Two days of rest. Two days of tea. Two days of Zyxel hovering at my shoulder like a shadow with scales, watching me with those chartreuse eyes that tracked every movement I made.
I pressed my palm against the viewport and watched the stars streak past. The royal observation lounge was quiet at this hour—just me, my tea, and the vast emptiness of space rushing toward something none of us wanted to do.
The cup was warm in my other hand. Some floral blend Zyxel had insisted on—good for the pregnancy, he’d said. Good for stress. Good for everything except the gnawing restlessness that had been building in my chest since I’d woken up.
Two days of rest had cleared my head. And now my mind was working again.
Worrying again.
Planning again.
“You’re supposed to be relaxing.” Zyxel’s voice came from the seating area behind me, where he’d stationed himself with a tablet full of research papers he wasn’t actually reading. “Kaede was very specific about the relaxing.”
“I am relaxing.” I took a sip of my tea without turning around. “This is my relaxed face.”
“Your relaxed face looks remarkably similar to your ‘planning something dangerous’ face.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
The CEG Station loomed in my thoughts like a beast waiting to pounce. Neutral territory. A place where diplomacy was supposed to protect me, where the rules of interstellar engagement were supposed to mean something.
But the Verya didn’t play by rules. They never had. And the Quaww had declared war on us over my existence.
I traced a finger along the viewport’s edge, feeling the faint vibration of the Abyss’s engines through the hull. My daughter shifted inside me—a flutter, barely there, but enough to remind me what I was carrying. Who I was carrying.
What happened if they separated me from my mates? What happened if no one could reach me in time? What happened if there was a single moment—one heartbeat, one breath—when I was alone and vulnerable and the Verya saw their opening?
I needed a weapon.
Not my mates’ protection. Not Vowels’ intervention. Something that was mine.
I reached for my Oetsae through our bond—a gentle brush against his golden presence in my mind.
“You’re brooding,” he pathed, his mental voice warm with amusement. “I can feel it.”
“I’m thinking.”
“Same thing, with you.”
I smiled despite myself. He wasn’t wrong.
“I need to be able to protect myself,” I admitted through our link, keeping the conversation private from the bond web. “If something happens at the space station—if we’re separated—”
“You have me.” His presence brightened, fierce and loyal. “You have your mates. You have the Royal Guard.”
“And if there’s a moment—even a second—when none of them can reach me?”
Silence pulsed through our connection. I felt Vowels considering, turning the problem over in that ancient mind of his.
“There is one option.” His mental voice had gone careful. Measured. “The spirit weapons. Ryzen’s daggers.”
Something sparked in my chest. Hope. Interest. The beginning of an idea that felt dangerous and right at the same time.
“I can touch them,” I reminded him. “I’ve done it before. But I can’t summon them. Can’t wield them.”
“No. You can’t. Spirit weapons are tied to their wielder’s soul—their spiritforce. You would need to share that connection to access them yourself.”
“Share it how?”
Another pause. Longer this time. I could feel Vowels weighing his words, choosing them with the care of someone walking through a minefield.
“Bonding,” he finally said. “A true soul-bond. The kind Ryzen’s people have forbidden for generations.”
Forbidden.
The word sat heavy in my mind. The Verya had rules about this—old rules, ancient rules, the kind that carried the weight of cultural trauma. He’d stated before that his people didn’t touch… and yet, he’d been open to let me do it as of late.
I’d seen enough of intergalactic politics to know that forbidden usually meant dangerous. Usually meant permanent.
Usually meant you couldn’t undo what you’d done.
“I’m not suggesting you pursue this,” Vowels added quickly. “I’m only answering your question. You asked if there was a way. There is. But the cost—”
“I need to talk to Ryzen.”
“Selena—”
“I’m not making any decisions. I’m asking questions.” I set my teacup down on the viewport ledge, my reflection ghosting back at me from the starfield beyond. “He deserves to know I’m thinking about this. And I deserve to understand what I’d be asking for.”
Vowels went quiet. Not angry—contemplative. I could feel him turning my logic over, searching for holes.
“Be careful,” he finally said. “This is not a small thing you’re considering.”
“I know.” That was exactly why I had to do it. “Zyxel.”
He was on his feet before I finished turning around, that protective alertness snapping into place. Stars, Kaede had trained him well.
“I need to speak with Ryzen. Alone.”
Something flickered in those chartreuse eyes. Not jealousy—Zyxel was too practical for that. At least now. Now that we were at war. Concern, maybe. Or the protective instinct that came with our new bond.
“Is everything alright?”
“Yes.” I crossed to him, pressed my palm against his chest. Felt the steady thrum of his heart beneath my fingers. “I just have questions. The kind that only he can provide and need to be asked face-to-face.”
He studied me for a long moment. Then nodded.
“I’ll be here when you return.”
I smiled—small, grateful—and slipped out of the observation lounge before I could second-guess myself.
The Abyss’s corridors were quiet. Most of the Royal Guard were resting, and the ship had that hushed, waiting quality that came with travel through deep space. My footsteps echoed softly against the deck plates as I navigated toward the guest quarters where Ryzen had been assigned.
What was I doing?
The question circled in my mind as I walked, and I didn’t have a good answer.
Ryzen had already given me so much—his protection, his trust, his willingness to stand between me and the dangers that kept finding us.
He’d fought for me in the arena. He’d trained with my mates.
He was training me to expand my mental strength and range, in hopes that I could help rescue his brother, who might be the key to ending this war.
And now I was going to ask him for something forbidden. Something his people had outlawed for generations.
I stopped outside his door.
The metal was cool beneath my knuckles when I raised my hand to knock. I hesitated there, suspended between the corridor and whatever waited on the other side.
This was a big ask. Personal. Intimate in a way that went beyond bodies—beyond even the bonds I shared with my mates. This was souls. This was forever.
I knocked anyway.
The door slid open to reveal Ryzen’s quarters—sparse, military-neat, with none of the personal touches that made a room feel lived-in.
He’d been meditating, I realized. There was a mat laid out near the viewport, and his hair was loose around his shoulders, the emerald streaks catching the ambient light.
“Selena.” Surprise flickered across his features before he smoothed it away. “Is something wrong?”
“No. Nothing’s wrong.” I stepped inside when he gestured me in, the door sliding shut behind me. “I need to ask you something. And I need you to be honest with me, even if the answer is no.”
His head tilted—that curious, assessing look I’d come to recognize. He didn’t speak. Just waited, patient as stone, while I gathered my thoughts.
“Your spirit daggers.” I met his eyes directly. No point dancing around it. “I can touch them. I’ve done it before—and you’ve given me one to hold. But I can’t summon them. Can’t wield them myself.”
“No.” His voice was careful. Measured. “You can’t.”
“Is there a way?”
Something shifted in his expression. The openness that had been there a moment ago shuttered, replaced by something older. Warier. The look of a man who’d just realized where the conversation was heading and wasn’t sure he wanted to follow.
“Only one.” A long silence stretched between us. I could see him deciding whether to tell me—weighing the consequences against the truth. “And it’s forbidden among my kind.”
“Tell me.”
He turned away, moving toward the viewport. The stars painted silver light across his profile, catching the faint glow of the emerald runes that traced his skin. Even at rest, they pulsed with a life of their own—tied to his spiritforce, to the soul that powered them.
“Bonding.” The word came out rough, like it cost him something to say it.
“Sharing souls. Merging spiritforce.” He turned back to face me, and his eyes were darker than I’d ever seen them.
“It’s why my people have resisted it for generations.
Prevented it. Forbidden it. To share a soul is to become.
..” He paused, searching for the word. “Entangled. Forever.”
Entangled.
The word hung between us like a physical thing. I thought of my mental web—my golden threads connecting me to Zyxel, to Kaede, to my Circuli mates, to the Destima’s mental web. Those connections were part of me now. Permanent. Precious.
But this would be different. Deeper. A merging that went beyond the bonds I already knew.
“Why is it forbidden?” I needed to understand the history. The weight of what I was asking.
“Because it can’t be undone.” Ryzen’s voice was quiet.
“Once two spiritforces merge, they remain connected until death. And among my people...” His jaw tightened.
“We’ve seen what happens when bonds are forced.
When souls are stolen. The Verya used to do it—take our strongest warriors and bind them against their will, turning their own weapons against their families.
Others forced mating pairs, assigning and arranging two strangers to merge their spiritforces together by the abilities, spirit weapons and mental strength to create a stronger and more powerful generation to control. ”
Horror crept through my chest. Stars. No wonder they’d outlawed it.
“I’m sorry.” The words came out before I could stop them. “I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t know—”
“You had every right to ask.” He cut me off, not unkindly. “You’re walking into danger. You want to be able to defend yourself. That’s not unreasonable.”
“It’s asking too much.”
I meant it. Already I was backing away—not physically, but mentally. Closing down the idea before it could take root. This wasn’t a small favor. This was his soul. His forever. I had no right to ask for that, no matter how desperate I was.
“Selena.”
Ryzen’s voice stopped me. There was something in it—something I couldn’t quite name. I looked up to find him watching me with an intensity that made my breath catch.
“I would do it.” The words were quiet. Certain. “For you.”
Everything went still. The ship’s hum, the distant pulse of the engines, the stars wheeling past the viewport—all of it faded beneath the weight of what he’d just said.
“Ryzen—”
“You gave me hope when I had none.” He stepped closer, and the emerald runes along his arms pulsed faintly—responding to his emotion, to the spiritforce that lived beneath his skin.
“You’re going to help me save Xenak. You’re risking everything—your mates, your children, your empire—to end a war that isn’t even yours. ”
“It’s everyone’s war now.” My voice came out rougher than I intended. “The Verya won’t stop with your galaxy.”
“No. They won’t.” He was close enough now that I could see the flecks of gold in his green eyes, the way his runes pulsed in time with his heartbeat.
“And you’re walking into neutral territory to face the Quaww and demand assistance to face both warfronts.
If bonding with you means you can protect yourself—if sharing my spiritforce means you have a weapon they can’t take from you—”
He stopped. Swallowed. And when he spoke again, his voice was so quiet I had to strain to hear it.
“I’m willing.”
I stared at him. This male I’d known for only a handful of weeks—this warrior who’d spent centuries serving his refugees, protecting his people, following rules that had been carved into his culture long before he was born.
He was offering me his soul. His forever.
Not because I’d asked for it. Not because he owed me anything.
Because he believed in what I was trying to do.
“You barely know me.” The protest felt weak even as I said it.
“I know enough.” A faint smile curved his lips—the first I’d ever seen from him that wasn’t tinged with sadness or duty.
“I know you’re stubborn. Reckless. Too willing to sacrifice yourself for others.
I know you collect warriors like some beings collect trinkets, and somehow they’re all better for it.
” The smile faded, replaced by something more serious.
“I know you’re the best chance my brother has of surviving what the Verya have done to him.
And I know that if you fall, the galaxy falls with you. ”
My throat tightened. Too much. This was too much.
“Are you sure you want to?” The words came out steadier than I felt. “This isn’t an easy decision that you can make in this short exchaneg.”
“I know, but the offer still stands.” He inclined his head—that formal gesture I’d seen him use with Mwe, with anyone he respected. “Maybe I’ve decided to stop fighting whatever is between us.”
My pulse thundered as my thoughts skittered.
He was offering his soul.
His forever.
And I had to decide if I was brave enough to actually accept it.