Chapter 18
Telok hadn’t eased by the time everyone convened in camp.
As he watched his companions exchange names with the strangers, anger and unease roiled inside him, and his fine hairs bristled beneath the gaze of Tas’s larkhet, which stared at him from atop one of the tall roots that served as a natural barrier for the camp.
Though the newcomers hadn’t shown even a sliver of ill intent, Telok couldn’t ignore the truth—these small vrix had watched and followed his group at least since last night, when Lacey had first noticed Swiftclaw.
And they’d done so undetected. Telok’s companions were experienced hunters, hardened warriors, and not one of them had realized they were being observed.
Telok hadn’t realized.
And that lack of vigilance had allowed a stranger to come within striking distance of Lacey.
He tightened his grip on his spear and clutched her against his chest.
I could have lost her.
She could have been taken.
She could have been killed.
Telok had been distracted, his mind and instincts so consumed by his need to claim Lacey that he had endangered both her and all their companions. What if it had been a ravenous beast instead of Tas? What if it had been a vrix still loyal to Zurvashi, bent on avenging their fallen queen?
He’d failed in his duty as a hunter.
Failed as a…a mate.
How many signs had he overlooked, how many threats had he missed? How could he trust himself to keep her safe?
In his mind, he saw blood, smelled it, and heard the din of a slaughter echoing from the distant past. Something dark and cold constricted his chest, stifling his breath and making his hearts skip. The old scars on his face and neck throbbed.
By sheer chance, disaster had been avoided this time, but he knew all too well the consequences of failing to recognize danger. It had cost him everything…
And gods, that could have happened all over again today.
Lacey cupped the side of his face and turned it toward her, forcing his eyes away from the newcomers. “It’s okay, Telok.”
No, it is fucking not.
Her sincerity was clear in her soft voice, gentle touch, and compassionate gaze, but he could draw no comfort from her reassurance.
“I never expected to see thornskulls and shadowstalkers striding together,” Tas said, reclaiming Telok’s attention.
Garahk stepped closer to him. “For long and long, we did not. But the tangled threads of fate bound ours together. I did not think those threads would ever lead me to meet yours. I have known winddancers only from stories spun when my broodmother was fresh hatched.”
Winddancers. Now that it had been spoken, it seemed so obvious to Telok. He’d heard stories of their kind as well, but even when he’d lived in the Tangle as a broodling, he’d never seen one himself.
Though Telok knew they were full grown, the winddancers looked like young vrix compared to the thornskulls.
The tallest of them, a female with black fur, a dark gray hide, and purple eyes who Tas had introduced as his mate, Nes’Kahn Shir, stood barely a finger’s length taller than Cole.
The other female was eye to eye with the human, and the males were all around Lacey’s height.
While the thornskulls were powerfully built, with broad frames and hard spikes on their shoulders and headcrests, the winddancers were lithe, their fur giving them a much softer look.
The two groups studied each other with open curiosity, though that of the winddancers was dulled by a hint of wariness for all but Tas’s two male companions. The pair of males stared at Ayali as though sizing her up in a very different way, eyes glimmering with interest and intrigue.
With a sorrowful buzz, Tas glanced at the other winddancers.
“Our Nedrayas stays hidden. We are few, and with each year, our numbers are fewer. Long have we watched your kinds from afar. We have seen thornskulls, shadowstalkers, and fireeyes make war. We have seen spiritstriders hunt for vrix to drag into the dark.” His bright blue eyes turned to Telok.
“We saw your queen cut through vrix like a blade through grass and fill the mire with blood. And we knew such a war would be our unmaking, so we have done as always. Remain unseen and watch with all eyes.”
“And when you tried to take Lacey?” Telok demanded. “Was that hiding or watching?”
Lacey patted his chest gently, and when she spoke, it was in a low voice, just for him. “Be nice.”
Nice? Wen’Xal Tas still drew breath. That was about as nice as Telok could bring himself to be.
Tas bowed his head and brought his forearms together. “I sought only to protect her.”
Telok’s mandibles flared, and it took every thread of his willpower to keep himself in place. “I am her protector.”
The winddancer’s focus shifted to Lacey, making Telok’s hide itch with furious heat, before returning to him.
“I saw your war with all eight eyes, saw the savagery, the cruelty. I would shield my Nedrayas from that, and I would shield humans from it as well. They are not for this world, and do not deserve to face such horror.”
Cole snorted. “Guess you guys know English but not human history.”
“Wait, wait, wait. Back up!” Lacey wriggled in Telok’s arms, pushing against his chest until he reluctantly let her down. As soon as her feet were on the ground, she quickly walked toward the winddancers. “You have other humans with you? More people from the Somnium?”
Biting back a snarl, Telok strode to Lacey, banding his arm around her and pulling her to his side.
She looked up at him. “Telok, what—”
“I am keeping you safe,” he growled, turning his gaze to Tas.
The winddancer’s mandibles twitched. “We will not harm her.”
Telok’s hearts thundered in his chest, and fire swirled in his belly. His instincts insisted Tas was a challenge, a threat, yet he could hear the sincerity in the winddancer’s voice, and…
And Nes’Kahn Shir was right beside Tas, her foreleg hooked over one of his, absently brushing it. They were a mated pair. Tas was not trying to take Lacey as his own. No one was trying to take her.
Ketahn, Rekosh, and Urkot had spoken of this. Of this clash between reason and instinct, of possessiveness distorting friends into enemies. Each of them had been forced to reconcile that inner battle, and now Telok was facing his own struggle against himself.
His need to claim Lacey was overcoming all else. It was devouring him, and it would continue to do so until he took real action. Until his claim on her was solidified and their bond was sealed.
“These humans are ours. Our tribe. Our family.” Telok looked down and met Lacey’s gaze.
And she is mine.
“We understand,” Shir said. “Our human is our family too. Our Nedrayas.”
Lacey frowned. “Human? Just…one?”
Tas sighed, his posture sagging as though he were being dragged down by a great weight, and nodded.
“Shit,” Cole rasped, running his fingers through his hair. “I guess that’s better than none, right? And it means there could be more survivors out there. Could be a lot more.”
“Maybe,” Lacey said. “But there’s no way of knowing where they’d be, if there are any at all. Pieces of the ship could be scattered across hundreds of miles for all we know.”
“We searched for months,” Tas said, “but we couldn’t find any other wreckage. Your ship crashed many years ago. The jungle has long since swallowed its bones.”
Telok could feel the sorrow and disappointment flowing from Lacey. He gentled his hold on her and petted her braid with his upper hand, following it down the line of her back.
“Let us sit in friendship and share words,” Garahk said in vrix. He walked to the entrance of the camp, where he stood his spear against the wall of branches and brambles. The other thornskulls followed his example, leaving their weapons alongside his.
The winddancers exchanged hesitant, questioning glances with each other.
Telok shifted his gaze to his spear and the lock of red hair dangling from it. For so many reasons, he was loath to relinquish it.
Garahk returned to the center of camp and sank down onto the ground, his rear legs folded against his hindquarters and his forelegs bent in front of him. He turned his palms toward the sky. “Mine offer yours peace in our wild den, Wen’Xal Tas.”
A memory stirred in Telok’s mind. Moon cycles ago, when shadowstalkers and thornskulls had known nothing but war with one another, Ketahn had brought a lone thornskull into their tribe’s camp.
Garahk had chosen to surround himself with those who had been his enemies, those who had slain his friends and kin, because he and Ketahn had seen a chance for peace. For friendship.
Telok had thought them both mad. What could there have been between their kinds but hatred after Zurvashi’s war? But Ketahn’s hope—and Garahk’s courage—had spun the first threads of a new bond between Takarahl and Kaldarak that was helping both cities prosper today.
And all it had taken to change the world was an extension of trust. Just a little trust, and years of bloodshed and spite had been laid to rest.
The thornskulls seated themselves behind Garahk, spreading in a half circle.
After drawing in a deep breath and slowly letting it out, Telok released his hold on Lacey. She looked up at him with a brow quirked. He strode to the collection of weapons, added his own to it before he could reconsider, and swiftly returned to Lacey.
The soft smile she gave him made his chest flutter.
“Scarhide, Lacey, Cole, join us.” Garahk waved them over with an upper hand, patting the ground on either side of him with his lower pair. “I would have you share your words as well.”
Lacey and Telok sat to Garahk’s right, while Cole plopped down on his left, knees raised with his arms folded atop them.