Everyone is heading to bed but Inga walks off on her own. Ashlee moves to follow her but is stopped and leaves the other female alone.

Ladon is on first watch and I should go to sleep myself but seeing Inga standing over there, alone, outlined by the stars, there’s an ache in my chest. My hearts pound so hard they hurt. My stomach tightens almost as if I’m sick.

Padraig’s words ring through my thoughts. A Zmaj takes what he wants. A male should be bold, forward, aggressive.

Padraig has his female. All the men do and they’re all, to a one, bold. They take what they want. Can I?

Doubt makes for a cold chill but at the same time…

She’s so beautiful. Dusk closes around and she becomes a shadowy outline, but even in dark profile her beauty shines. She is more beautiful than all the stars in the sky. There is nothing in the universe I’ve ever seen or heard of that can compare to her.

Can I?

I must.

Decisive action. Act. Do. Be a male, Samil.

Rising to my feet I walk towards her. This is the right decision. She’ll be impressed, she will want me, I’ll be a male worthy of her attention.

She doesn’t move as I approach even when I’m right behind her. Swallowing, pushing down the last remnants of my own indecisiveness, I reach out and touch her shoulder.

“Inga,” I say, forcing my voice to be deeper, more male.

“Ah!” she screams, jumping away from me.

She’s trembling, eyes wide, mouth open with water running from her eyes. She holds her hands up in front of herself defensively. My mouth dries out and I shake my head. This isn’t the way she’s supposed to react at all.

“Inga,” I say, shaking my head and holding my hands up.

“Don’t touch me!” she screams, still shaking.

“I’m sorr—" I start.

“What’s happened?” Ladon’s voice booms through, cutting me off as he’s suddenly next to me with his lochaber at the ready.

“Nothing,” Inga says, shaking her head.

Ladon looks at me then her, furrowing his brow. “Samil?”

“I’m sorry,” I say, looking at Inga, not him. “I wanted to—"

“It’s nothing,” Inga says, forcefully cutting me off. “Everything is fine.”

“Are you sure?” Ladon asks, lowering the lochaber but not putting it away yet.

“Yes,” she says. “I was startled, that’s all.”

“I’m— I—don’t know what to say,” I finish, feeling stupid for having come to her as I did.

“Okay,” Ladon says, finally putting the lochaber away.

Partly I wish he would run me through with it and put me out of my misery. This went all wrong but worst of all I don’t understand why. How do I fix it? Inga’s beautiful, perfect eyes are fixed on me with a look I don’t know how to interpret. There’s not a hint of romantic interest in them.

A weight settles on my shoulders and I can’t meet her gaze. Silently I turn away, intending to walk back to the fire alone.

“Samil,” Inga says, barely above a whisper. I look over my shoulder, not turning around. “Sorry.”

I force a smile, still not understanding any of this, but I know one thing. I’ve done something wrong. I only hope I can fix it with her, sooner or later.

Nodding, I walk back to the fire, my mind in too much turmoil to sleep. When I get there, Sverre is sitting alone next to it. He watches as I sit across from him but I ignore the older male and stare into the flames. In the red-hot embers I see tiny people dancing but to one side of them is a single ember, alone, by itself. Doomed to burn out alone, like me.

“Samil,” Sverre speaks.

“What?”

“What happened?”

Grimacing, I grit my teeth and debate how to answer or if I want to at all. Nothing makes sense when it comes to her or any of the females. If I was big and strong like Padraig, she’d like me better. I’m sure of it. Or if I was really smart and able like Errol. But I’m not. I’m me, small and not overly smart. I’m not clever or a great hunter like Melchior or Ragnar. I’m not a leader like Visidion or Drosdan. They’re all things I’m not. So what am I?

Weak.

“Nothing,” I say bitterly.

“Samil,” he repeats.

Something in his tone forces my attention out of the fire and to him. His eyes are intense, boring into me and I know he wants to help.

“I don’t understand her,” I say and he snorts.

“She’s a female, no male understands them,” he answers, smiling kindly.

“You do, all of you do. I don’t. I don’t know how to talk to her. I don’t know how to prove myself worthy of her.”

“What does your gut tell you?” he asks.

“I tried that,” I say. “Why do you think she screamed?”

“Was that your gut or someone else’s?”

That stops the swirling storm in my head. Frowning as I try to consider his words, I look over at him. “What do you mean?”

“I saw you watching Padraig,” he says. “Listening to his words so carefully. Was what you did your gut, your instincts, or were you using his?”

“Oh,” I say, shaking my head. I think about it. “I don’t… I don’t have any instincts.”

“Don’t you?”

“No,” I say, certain.

“Do you feel a fire in your core, deep inside, almost as if it’s too deep to fit inside of you?”.

“How do you know that?” I ask.

“Does it call to you, ache when you see her? Do you feel you would do anything to protect her? Is the sound of her voice the most beautiful thing that sets your blood on fire?”

“Yes!” I say excitedly as he somehow puts exactly what I’ve been feeling into the words I could never form.

Sverre smiles a knowing smile. “That, Samil, is your dragon. The essence of you. That is your instinct. Follow it, your own, not some other male’s. You are not Padraig, you are you. Your dragon has chosen your mate, all you have to do is follow it and trust that in the end, it will all work out.”

“But I’m not a hunter, or clever, or wise,” I protest.

“Compared to who?”

“You, Padraig, Errol, all of you,” I motion around the sleeping males.

“Why do you measure yourself against others?” he asks. “The measure of a male is against himself. Would you protect her no matter what danger you face?”

“Of course I would!”

“Would you let any harm befall her, even if it costs you your own life?”

“No,” I say.

“Good,” he says. “Then you are as male as any of us. We are each different. I’m sure Bashir would have some wise words and implications about how the planet made you as you are or some other mystical wisdom. I don’t. I know what I know though, no male should be measured against another male. You must be measured as yourself and on your own actions.

The only person who can find you worthy of your mate is yourself and her. She will see in you the same value you see in yourself, if you give her that opportunity.”

“What if she doesn’t?” I ask.

“Then she wasn’t the one,” he says.

“Oh,” I say, thinking his words over.

Sverre covers the glowing embers of our fire over with sand then heads for his furs, leaving me alone with the growing darkness and my thoughts.