CHAPTER THIRTEEN

JAHLE

His mouth tasted like quarry sand, and his eyes were bleary when he blinked against the bright light filtering down from the sky. The divan was empty beside him. Where is she? Licking his lips, he tasted a dusting of dirt and dried sweat. He groaned rolled to a seated position.

When he raised his hand to brush aside the dust lingering on his face, he stopped for a moment to study his hand. His mouth drew into a grim line.

It happened.

As expected, he had changed last night, shedding his weaker form for the form all Ennoi coveted. Mating with his Avowed had helped him reach his full Potential. The ache in his body was gone, replaced by renewed vigor and strength.

I have found my Virtue of the Avowed.

I am complete.

He fisted his fingers, admiring his new claws and the heavy scales covering his skin. They swirled across his flesh in hues of rich browns, cinnamon reds and deep saffron yellows. When they caught the light, they gleamed golden.

I have been so weak.

“Good morning.” The words came from his left.

He turned to face Mel and spotted her sitting on a bench a short distance away. She had dressed and sat with her arms wrapped around her knees. The thin sunlight lit up her hair, sending golden sparkles along the strands. She appeared the same as she had last night, but somehow, she had grown even lovelier.

Only thanks to her.

He wanted to stride across to her and sweep her into his arms. He craved making love to her again, and again, and for the rest of his life. To thank her for this gift she had given him. He quashed the urge.

I cannot do that to her.

I have already taken too many liberties.

“What happened to your face?” Her eyes were wary, quenching his ardor further.

His tentative touch confirmed that horns sprouted from his jawline, and from his forehead, curving upward and back. He ran his tongue over his new fangs, and when he stood, he took in the increase in height. With a trembling hand, he reached out and touched his chest, feeling his second heart beating. The thundering reminded him of raindrops on soil.

It would beat for as long as he and his Avowed Mate lived. When Mel died, both his hearts would cease to beat.

What would happen to Mel if I die first?

“You look like Zayef and Ketug now. All horny.” She flushed in a fetching manner. “I mean, you have horns. Not horny. Totally not horny horny, if you know what I mean.”

In her typical way, Mel kept rambling while Jahle dressed. His pants were too short, and the shirt, which had been baggy, now sat properly across his shoulders. His boots were too small, but the scales on the soles of his feet would protect them.

When he turned to Mel, she stared at the ground, her face crimson and splotchy. “I mean, it’s not like we have to be exclusive or anything, but I mean, I don’t even know what this means. I mean, back on Earth…”

Back on Earth, he repeated to himself. She wants to go home.

She glanced up and caught him staring. She bit her lip. “I mean, why are you like… this, anyway?”

Be honest. She is your Avowed.

Lie. She deserves better.

How could he tie her down to him? How could he explain that because of her, he had become the Ennoi he was supposed to be? How could he tell her that when an Ennoi found his Avowed mate, he became a stronger warrior? How could he tell her of the Virtue of the Avowed when he did not deserve it? How could he tell her those things, when he had failed his people, leaving himself bereft of honor?

He shrugged as casually as he could manage, listening to his double heartbeat thundering from the lie. “It happens to Ennoi on occasion.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Just happens, huh?”

He nodded, and retrieved the lantern, which he clicked off. “Just happens. We should return to the Water People.”

They walked in silence back to the camp. When her hand brushed his in an alleyway, he stepped aside, letting her go ahead. Her face crumpled, but she kept her head high as she walked past.

I am doing this for her, he reminded himself. Rejection now would save her from heartbreak later.

He could not afford to avoid his brother for any longer. Dogan would be angry. Beyond angry. But if Jahle turned himself in, the Water People might be able to escape Dogan’s wrath. Mel might be able to escape.

The Water People liked her. Perhaps they would be willing to escort her to her destination. Meanwhile, Jahle would be the bait, keeping Dogan’s anger focused on him and his new form.

What levels of abuse can this new body withstand?

How far will Dogan push it?

As the camp came into sight, Jahle handed the lantern to Mel and leaned against the building. “Go gather supplies. Today I must return to Kreebo. The Water People can lead you the rest of the way.”

She whirled on him. “What? No! No, you promised me. You promised me. You told me you would take me to a ship that would get me off Geran.”

“It is clear I can no longer keep my word.”

“Why, because you’re afraid your brother is coming for us?”

“I know he is.”

“You still gave me your word.” She stared at him, but he said nothing. She shook her head. “For all of your talk of honor…”

He watched her walk away. Guilt weighed down his chest. What else could he do?

A tent flap flew open, and Zayef stepped out. She spotted Mel, she beamed and threw open her arms and hugged Mel. When she broke the hug, she kept her hands resting on Mel’s shoulders. “They are healing. The children are healing. We administered the second dose this morning.”

Mel laughed. “That’s amazing! Jahle will be glad to hear.”

She turned to him, and Zayef instinctively leaned around her to follow her gaze to where Jahle stood. Perhaps she forgot, or perhaps she was so wrapped up in her happiness, but her eyes met Jahle’s for an instant. He resisted the urge to look away, to hide from her joy.

Zayef’s cheeks blanched as she took in his horns and scales. Her eyes flicked to Mel, and Jahle straightened. She dropped her hands from Mel’s shoulders, as if they burned.

No. A fist closed around Jahle’s chest as he began walking toward the camp. With each step, his feet seemed to grow heavier and heavier. No, no, no.

Zayef stepped away from Mel, and dropped her eyes to the floor.

Mel tipped her head in confusion. “Are you okay, Zayef?”

Zayef’s mouth tightened. When she spoke, her voice was low, but it carried to Jahle’s powerful ears. “I say this because I consider you my friend. Take what supplies you wish, and leave.”

Mel stepped back. “Wh-”

“Leave,” Zayef hissed. “You are no longer welcome here.” She spun around, and ducked back inside the tent, letting the flap fall over the darkness within.

Jahle reached Mel’s side, and she turned to him with a dazed expression. “Wh-what did I just miss? Why did she…”

He pulled her into a hug. The glimmer of tears in his eyes broke his heart.

I should have been stronger last night. I should have refused her.

“It is not you,” he whispered into her hair. “It is my fault. They punish you for your association with me.”

She pushed him far enough away so she could study his face. “Why? Because I slept with you last night? Is that why?”

They know you are my Avowed, and thus my lack of honor will always mark you.

“Yes,” he said.

She snorted, and stepped back, crossing her arms. “Well, they’re making a lot of assumptions. What if you were simply showing me the stars, huh? She’s got some nerve. What a bunch of prudes. Who needs friends like that, huh?”

He wanted to reach under her mask of anger and brush the hurt from her eyes. “Certainly not I,” he replied. He tried to keep his tone light. “Go gather your belongings. You should get going now. Before Dogan arrives.” He pointed down the tunnel around which the vehicles were clustered. “Your salvation is a four day walk in that direction.”

Her eyes flashed. “What's the rush? Why are you trying to get rid of me? You afraid of what happened last night?”

“It was a lapse in judgment. It should not have happened.”

Her jaw dropped, and she snapped it shut. “No, probably not.”

Jahle swore he could see her anger boiling the moisture from the air around her as she gathered the travel lamps and backpacks from beside the embers of the campfire. The sonar evaluator took its place of honor on her hip. She thrust the empty canteens into his hands.

“Go fill these. The water truck is that way.”

“I should not touch the Water People’s belongings.”

“Yeah, well, I have to go find Olex’s tent and get some protein bars for my trip. Unless you want to do that instead?”

“Fine,” he said, taking the canteens. “I will fill these.”

“Two for me and one for you,” she called after him. “And hustle. I want to be done with the lot of you.”

The water truck sat across the camp, and Jahle took his time walking there. As he filled the first canteen, he mulled over the hurt and confusion in her eyes, and the careful way she hid her emotions beneath her ferocity. She did not have time to weep, so she did not. She pulled herself together, coiling her feelings deep inside, the way he sealed the mouth of the canteen with the lid.

A strong heart, indeed.

As water dribbled into the next canteen, he sighed. He had made the right choice. She had proven herself capable. She would be safer without him. The main tunnels to the spaceport would be safer than the route they took to reach Kastika.

Keep justifying your actions, he chided himself. You are still wrong to let her go alone.

He pushed away the thought firmly as he screwed the lid back on the second canteen.

Fewer hazards along the path. She will be fine.

The borebugs stuck close to Kreebo for the warmth of the geothermal towers. Everything else was dead, either from starvation or the earthquakes.

Earthquakes.

Perhaps the tunnels had been reshaped by the tremors. Perhaps she would find herself in a dead-end.

As if to underscore his thoughts, the ground began to rumble again. She would be buried in a landslide. She would suffer. She would get turned about, even if he drew her the symbols indicated the spaceport. She would starve. She would die of exposure.

Water spilled over the lip of the canteen, splashing his fingers. He cursed and shut off the valve. He tightened the cap on the third one, and slung it over his shoulder. He straightened, and glanced back at the camp, expecting to see Mel waiting for him by the fire, but she was not there.

What other choice do I have?

He had sacrificed himself as a diversion for Ketug. He would do the same for Mel. By throwing himself against Dogan’s wrath, he would buy her time to make her escape. Dogan could not focus on more than one target when consumed by rage. Even as a boy, Dogan had never been able to control his temper. Jahle had preferred Roana’s gentleness or Trinni’s vivaciousness to Dogan’s temperamental fickleness.

The ground beneath Jahle’s feet shuddered. Jahle frowned at the dancing pebbles beside the wheel of the water truck. They leaped about in a steady pattern, pitter-pattering across the packed dirt, almost as if…

He looked up in time to see the heavy digger explode from the wall beside him. The drill bit at the front of the machine whirled, cutting its way through dirt and stone with ease. Jahle flung his arms over his head to protect himself as the machine sent clods of dirt and pebbles raining down on him.

He’s found us.

Skies save us, he’s found us!

Jahle broke into a run, straight toward the digger.