Tarni almost felt like home. What a joke.

Inrit could barely remember the last time she had a proper home. Did the Breikyr count? Or the Dronda? Did she really need to go back to the Temple of the Dead to find what she was looking for? She scowled and looked out at the crowds of people milling outside Nina Port, all ready to blast off to destinations far away from here.

Just like her.

But Inrit doubted that many were leaving without any intention to ever return. What was the point of a home if a person never came back? She pushed the crazy thoughts away. Tarni would never do. There were too many humans, and humans in any group got to thinking they were superior to other people just because of their species. By the hells, she’d been around enough of them to know that they had categories they thought were superior even within their own little group.

No, thank you. She didn’t have time for that petty bullshit.

Though Reina was nice, she supposed. Of course, it didn’t matter if Reina had been queen bitch of Tarni or if she smelled like rotten tryladran spores. She was a savior to the Detyen race and the mate of Inrit’s greatest—and only—friend. Inrit supposed that if she had any kind of home at all, it was with them. But the new couple was all secret smiles and stolen kisses.

Inrit was happy for Stoan. Really, really happy. He’d beaten the curse, found his mate, and would go on to have a dozen babies and rule over this little clan of Detyens like a king. How could she want anything less for him?

But being happy and being present couldn’t coexist. Not with the twinge of resentment growing within her and that little voice that said it should have been me.

A million years ago, or, more rightly, thirteen, back when Inrit had been a child scared to face the hard life that lay ahead of her, Stoan had been her only friend and family. Back then, she’d thought for sure that they would become mates when they were older, that the denya bond would bloom between them.

Instead, Stoan found his human and Inrit was left alone.

Ex-disciple, ex-apprentice, ex-pirate. For a woman of twenty-seven, she’d gathered a huge pile of exes. More yesterdays than tomorrows.

Inrit breathed in deep and let the smell of shuttle fuel and sweet air coat her nose and tongue. She pushed melancholy thoughts away as she’d learned to do before she could even walk.

She spotted Stoan walking towards her and waved back when he raised a blue hand at her. He was one handsome Detyen, his skin a deep teal and his clan markings dark and prominent. He stood half a head above many of the humans and walked with the casual confidence of a man born to rule.

Neither of them knew who their parents were, but Inrit had always liked to think that some of the old royal family lived on in Stoan. He’d never make a play for the defunct crown, and she doubted he harbored the same suspicions that she did.

Then again, she’d seen a lot more of the universe than he ever would.

Would she trade all that for a denya?

Of fucking course. In a damned heartbeat.

Detyens liked to wrap the whole thing up in poetry and give it a nice name, as if the idea of dying at thirty was romantic, rather than the shittiest trade-off in the galaxy. Find the love of your life and live for a few centuries, or die alone when you’re too young to even know what you’re missing out on.

The Denya Gift, yeah right.

Stoan crossed the last bit of distance and took a seat beside her on the metal bench. Inrit adjusted her hood until she could see him in her peripheral vision if she was looking straight ahead.

“You don’t need to leave so soon, you know,” he said, his deep voice an unwelcome reminder of just how much they’d both grown up. “There’s plenty of room in my building. And if you’re worried about Droscus coming after you, this city is about the safest place you could be in the Consortium to stay away from him.”

That made Inrit smile.

“Maybe you’re right,” she conceded. “But he can’t reach outside of the Consortium, at least not far.” The Consortium was an allied system of four inhabited planets that banded together for extraplanetary defense. On the planets of Tarni, Beothea, Thanatos, and Vuutera, there were dozens of independent warlords and petty kings. Nina and Droscus were the two most powerful on Tarni and had been in conflict with one another since Nina rose to power five years before.

Droscus lived on the other side of the planet in a place called The Citadel. Due to a mission that Inrit could only guess at, Stoan and his mate Reina had been there to steal a trinket from him. That was where she met them.

The fact that Stoan hadn’t spoken a word about his employer and Reina always had a stricken look in her eye each time Inrit alluded to the topic gave Inrit some ideas of exactly who had employed them.

Well, just one idea.

And if she was right and they had been conscripted by Commander Nina, then her resolve was even further hardened to leave. She didn’t need to come under the scrutiny of the government. They still hanged pirates in these parts. Inrit was retired, but the stench of crime would always cling to her.

For at least three more years.

“Promise me that you’ll come visit,” Stoan said. Neither of them looked at one another, as if the only thing keeping either of them from getting emotional was a steely stare into the crowded street.

“You know I can’t make that promise,” she said. “It’s a two year contract and who knows how far away I’ll be by then. I might not have tim—”

She cut herself off when Stoan sucked in a breath, as if to tell her she might be lucky enough to find her mate. “The gods smiled down on you,” she told him. “Reina’s great.” But there was one little fact he hadn’t realized yet. “But the chances of me finding a mate… they’re not ideal.”

“I didn’t think it was possible either,” he argued.

“You were waiting for me. You didn’t look,” she countered. Neither had she. But in her travels, she’d met thousands of men, and none, not Detyen, not human, not Oscavian, nor anyone else had triggered even an inkling of a bond.

“Then why isn’t it possible?” he asked. “Are you that ready to die?”

“Every human you know who’s bonded with a Detyen has been a woman. If this is evolutionary or something like it, it makes sense. There are more Detyen men than women. No need to save the women.” She’d been stewing it over since the first mention of human mates, but she hadn’t dared say it out loud.

“So why not a Detyen?” he asked. He didn’t tell her she was wrong, but she knew he didn’t agree with her. Gender among humans—and Detyens as well—wasn’t always as simple as male and female. Scientifically, there wasn’t much reason that only human women could mate with Detyens.

But the evidence was starting to suggest that was the case.

That wasn’t his question. “I just know it,” she said. It didn’t make sense, but some feelings were bone deep. “There isn’t a Detyen out there for me.”

“So you’re giving up?”

He finally looked over at her and Inrit saw fire in her friend’s red eyes. “No,” she said. “I’m not. But I’m not going to let it rule my life.”

“Then why didn’t you meet with any of the men here?” he pressed.

Inrit tore her gaze away. She couldn’t explain it, not even to herself, but she didn’t want to meet with a score of Detyen males and see the disappointment in their eyes as each one figured out that she wasn’t for them. “My shuttle leaves soon,” she said.

Stoan was silent for a beat, but then accepted her change of subject. “Does your new captain know about your old… career?” he asked.

“Of course not,” she said with a huff of a laugh. “And he never will.” She hadn’t chosen piracy six years ago, but she was good at it. Still, Inrit would never take to that life again, no matter what they did to her. She’d learned that survival wasn’t always the best option, not when the line you had to cross tore out a bit of your soul along the way.

“You’ll send me correspondence?” he half-asked, half-commanded.

Inrit nodded. “Expect it. For as long as I can.” He flinched. Inrit held herself perfectly still. And the heavy weight of inevitability settled over them.

The moment passed and Inrit stood, grabbing her bag and hitching it over a shoulder. “I’m glad you’re alive,” she said. “And I couldn’t be happier that you found your denya. Reina is…” She didn’t even know what to say, so she let the sentence hang.

Stoan grinned. “She’s everything.”

That was love… family… home. Everything Inrit’s insides cried out for, but she tightened the leash on those useless feelings and offered him a genuine smile.

“Be well,” she said and hugged him quickly before ducking out of the embrace and entering the shuttle depot without a backwards look.

Nina City wasn’t the place for her. But Inrit wondered if she would ever find one that was.