Chapter Nineteen #3
Rhydek’s gaze searched my face before he finally broke the silence that had fallen between us.
“You don’t want to be left alone.”
It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway.
“No.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Because you fear sadness.”
The statement made me blink. He said it like someone saying I feared tripping in the dark instead of with the contempt I’d have expected him to have over something dealing with emotions.
I forced myself to nod and share the truth.
“Yes. I’ll think too much, and my mental state will deteriorate.”
His jaw tightened, but not in anger. He blinked several times, his tail waving behind him in a lazy arc before his chest expanded on a deep breath.
“And what would occupy you?”
The answer came easier than it should, and it escaped before I got the chance to think it over.
“The kennels.”
His expression closed as soon as the words left my mouth, and I couldn’t help wincing. I knew how he felt about me interacting with the varkuun, and my stomach sank as I waited for another rejection.
“I’m not asking to go near Zharrek,” I added. “Not if you don’t want me to. I just… I want to learn more about them. The animals, their handlers, how you train them… What they eat and how they communicate. They’re new to me, and I’m curious.”
He was still as he stared down at me, my spine crawling with tension. It lasted long enough I had no choice but to reveal something closer to the true reason I wanted to go to the kennels again.
“I can be useful there. Or at least less useless than I am here.”
The quiet words hung between us. Rhydek finally looked away, his gaze sweeping the training yard through the doorway as if the answer might be delivered by one of the warriors out there.
“You are not useless.”
His voice was a low rumble that made me want to lean closer. Perhaps I wouldn’t have the same issues once I had a better understanding of where we stood with each other, but until then, I needed something in my life to focus on.
Sighing, I looked away as he turned back to me, unable to meet his eyes.
“That doesn’t mean I’m useful.”
He grunted. He wasn’t the best at comforting me, but I had the feeling he understood, at least.
“Don’t your people have a saying about curiosity?”
The way my lips twitched was involuntary.
Straightening my shoulders, I looked into his golden orbs, picturing him with whiskers to go along with his slit pupils.
“It killed the cat.”
He arched a brow as if I’d proven his point. Crossing my arms over my chest, I did my best to look serious.
“But I’m not a cat.”
His next sigh was laced with a growl, but something stirred in my chest.
“So you want me to let you walk into danger?”
Biting my lip, I took a step closer to him. I had to make him understand how important it was, or I was going to go crazy.
“I’d rather risk being hurt by one of them, than lie in your bed and stare at the ceiling until I can’t make myself get up anymore.”
The honesty slipped out before I could stop it. His eyes narrowed and his features grew sharper.
“You would become depressed.”
It was strange to hear him say it so bluntly, but it wasn’t surprising that a world of warriors was aware of mental issues. A history of war led to a list of problems.
“Yes, I would.”
There was no point pretending otherwise. He’d already seen enough to know I was slipping towards it. I’d been on the slope for a long time, hanging on by my nails.
His tail lashed but he didn’t show any other signs of irritation.
“If I take you to the kennels again, you will keep your distance from the varkuun. Observation only.”
I nodded so fast my veil shifted and blocked my sight for a moment. I tried to tug it back into place, but it was larger, rough fingers that adjusted the opening so I could see again.
“And you will not approach Zharrek.”
I couldn’t help my hesitation, and I didn’t miss the way his expression hardened when I didn’t confirm his requirement fast enough.
“You cannot—"
“I just—”
“No!”
The word cracked like a whip and made me jerk back, blinking in surprise.
His kethra blazed yellow, every trace of orange gone.
They looked more like lightning than flames, and the way he’d tensed told me this was something he wouldn’t back down from.
It could have come off as being controlling, but it was fear radiating off him, and it cut through any argument I might have given.
Blowing out a breath, I forced myself not to push.
“Okay. I won’t go near him.”
His gaze searched mine as if he wasn’t sure he could trust me. I met it, trying to make him believe. Trying to let him see that I was willing to meet him halfway.
“I mean it. I’ll watch the others. I’ll learn. That’s all.”
For the moment, at least. I couldn’t let go of the hope that he might come to trust me enough to let me help Zharrek.
It seemed enough to satisfy Rhydek, though he still didn’t look happy about it.
“I must finish here first.”
Relief loosened something in my chest, and my shoulders slumped.
“Thank you.”
The words seemed too insignificant for the clawing need inside tugging me towards the kennels.
I hadn’t seen or heard of any Morraki keeping pets, and herd animals had never been my interest, so the varkuun could be the only option I had to still work with animals.
With how I’d begun to dread going to work each day, I’d thought giving it up wouldn’t be hard, but I had realized that being with animals still meant a lot to me.
The varkuun were my chance to have purpose besides being claimed and bred and turned into a political symbol.
Rhydek left the little room, and I followed him out into the training area again, keeping to the shade, but the waiting felt different. Temporary. It wasn’t the soul-sucking blackhole that it had turned into before.
He returned to the warriors, but I noticed his attention flicked toward me more often than it had earlier. Each time it happened, something warm and stupid fluttered in my chest, but I tried to ignore it.
Agreeing to let me go back to the kennels didn’t mean he cared. It wasn’t a hint that I might be something more than a responsibility. He just didn’t want to end up shackled to a broken husk.
But if he didn’t care, then why did he look at me that way?
I shoved buried the question as deep as I could, refusing to think about it. By the time Rhydek finally moved towards me again I was stiff and aching from tension, but I felt more alive than I had when the day started.
He gestured for me to follow him, and I did my best to keep up so he didn’t have to slow. I didn’t want him to have more time than necessary to change his mind.
When the kennels came into view in the distance, the open sides of the building more obvious since I knew what to look for, my pulse quickened, and I couldn’t help wondering if Zharrek was one of the low calls I heard bellowed across the sand.
I had promised to keep my distance, and I meant to keep that promise until Rhydek allowed me to see him again, but as I walked beneath the hot, hateful sun of Morrakan, I knew I couldn’t stay away forever.
I couldn’t let another animal be put down for being inconvenient.
I had to help him, because if I couldn’t, then what did I have left?