by Kali Argent
“Fathers? You have more than one?”
“I have three,” Sion confirmed, smirking when her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. He’d known the information would draw a reaction, but he hadn’t been expecting one so comical. “Venar, Janin, and Rodair. They love me, I think. I mean, they were never exactly affectionate, but they showed it in their own way.”
“And your mother?”
“Ha!” he laughed. “Oh, princess, I don’t think Maisa Jabari even likes herself. On Helix, the more companions—mates—a female takes, the more prominent she is in the tribe. There is no love between my parents, and my mother isn’t life-locked with any of her mates. Their relationship is simply a means to an end. For my mother, it means status within the tribe. Power. It’s all about power.”
His bitterness had gotten the best of him, and he’d skimped on a few details. That much was evident by the blank look Rya gave him as she shuffled along beside him.
“You have questions,” he deduced. “You can ask me anything, princess.”
“You have three fathers? I mean, biologically, how is that even possible?”
“Only one of them is biologically my father, but they’ve never said which.” From what little he knew of his parents’ relationship, he suspected his mother’s first companion, Venar, to be his birth father. The timing fit at any rate. “I think they believed if they didn’t tell me, I’d love all of my fathers equally.”
“And do you?”
Sion nodded. “Of course.” Guessing her next question, he continued with his explanation. “The Helios live in tribes, and each tribe has a leader, just like your islands.”
“Tribes,” she mused. “Like a Krytos’ pack.”
Suppressing his growl, Sion shook his head. “We’re nothing like the Krytos.”
Another old prejudice, but one he doubted would change any time soon.
“I’ve never met one, but I saw them during my travels before I became Vasera. They’re a bit terrifying.”
“You traveled?” This was news to him. As far as he knew, no Xenon had left the planet in thousands of years.
“The rulers are required to journey into space to observe other planets and races before we can claim the title of Vasere or Vasera.” Her nose crinkled adorably, and she shook her head. “Don’t distract me. We’re talking about you. Tell me what you meant about status in the tribe.”
“Don’t get me wrong, there are those who mate for love, but that wasn’t really the case in my tribe. My parents, for example, are together for political gain. With each companion my mother took, the higher she rose through the ranks of the tribe.”
As for his fathers, well, there were certain benefits involved in being with a high-ranking tribe female, and they certainly enjoyed the elevated social status.
“I’m sorry,” Rya whispered. “I’m sorry for the little boy you were, the youngling who grew up in a home without love. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”
Neither would he, but nor did he feel sorry for himself. His upbringing had shaped him, made him stronger, but it had also taught him to fight for the things he wanted.
“I am curious about something.” Ducking a low-hanging limb, Rya stumbled, causing her hair to fall into her face. She laughed when Sion caught her and brushed the long strands back over her shoulder. “Oops.”
“You aren’t exactly one with nature, princess.”
“I love nature!” She set her jaw, feigning indignation. “Well, I like looking at it.”
They both laughed at that, and it eased some of the tension brought on my memories of the past. Well, until Rya asked her next question.
“How did you get this?” Reaching up, she traced the crescent-shaped scar on his cheek that ran from his eyebrow to the corner of his lip. “Will you tell me?”
He’d told her she could ask him anything, and he meant it, but the story of how he’d received the scar wasn’t something he liked to think about, let alone discuss. She’d trusted him with her deepest, darkest memory, however, and she deserved the same trust in return.
“Do you know anything about the Hunt?”
She shook her head, then waited patiently for him to continue.
“It’s sort of a rite of passage for those in the tribe who have recently turned twenty.”
The Hunt was held four times a year, when both moons of Helix were full. Those recently coming into adulthood were sent into the jungles to survive for a week without the assistance of the tribe. For those who made it back, they received a cut on their chests, just over their hearts, that healed into a thin scar, a mark of pride and honor.
Sion had no such scar.
During the week of his hunt, he and Tariq had trekked into the jungle together with promises to watch each other’s backs. For the first few days, it had worked. As a hybrid, Tariq couldn’t shift fully, but he was a better hunter than Sion. Together, they managed to evade the beasts that lurked in the night and keep themselves fed.
Until the last night.
In total, there had been five of them sent into the jungle that week. Whether borne from jealousy or prejudice, Sion still didn’t know, but two of their fellow Helios—one male and one female—had targeted Tariq.
“Oh, that’s awful!” Rya exclaimed. “Did they hurt him?”
“Not exactly. They shot him with darts that had been dipped in xili.”
Xili grew wild on Helix, a fairly innocuous-looking plant, but its properties were anything but harmless. Used as a drug, it altered the mind, making the user highly susceptible to suggestion.
“How suggestable?”
A low rumble vibrated through Sion’s chest. “You’ll pretty much do whatever your told, which is what happened to Tariq, and I guess what they wanted him to do was kill me.”
Rya gasped, her fingers going to her mouth in surprise. “No.”
“We fought, and I was able to knock him out, but not before he got a good swipe in.” He fingered the scar on his face absently. “I don’t exactly know what happened after that. I passed out, and when I came to, Tariq had already been banished.”
“Did you tell your tribe what happened?”
“Of course, but no one believed me, or they did, and no one cared. I think Tariq’s mother was just looking for an excuse to get rid of him, and my mother…” Shaking his head, he chuckled darkly. “My mother called me an embarrassment. She felt I should have died that night. That it would have been the honorable thing to do.”
“No disrespect, but your mother is a bitchface.”
He couldn’t help it. He laughed so loudly he scared a flock of firetails from their perch in the trees. “Yes, she is, princess. Yes, she is.”
“Well, forget them.” With her head up and her shoulders back, she nodded resolutely. “You don’t need people who treat you in such way. You don’t deserve that.”
“I guess I don’t.” And for the first time ever, he actually believed it.
CHAPTER TEN
As promised, Garrik and Fawkes returned at the end of the week, but neither of them had any new information to share. After everyone at the citadel had been interrogated, they still had no answers and no suspects.
“No one has any idea how the sentries in the holding cells escaped. Furthermore, they haven’t been able to locate any of them.”
Gathered in her father’s old office, Rya sat beside Sion on the small loveseat. With ornately carved wooden arms and decorative gold accents that matched the thin cushions, it was a beautiful piece of furniture. After ten minutes of sitting, however, she remembered why it had been gathering dust for the past millennium.
“I think one of the springs is broken.” She shifted her weight to her right hip. “Well, that’s no better.”
“I’m sorry,” Garrik said, his tone deceptively calm. “Am I boring you?”
“Oh, hush.” The rest of the planet might find him intimidating, but she certainly didn’t. “I’m listening. Prisoners escaped. No one can find them. What else?”
Garrik glared. “Right. Anyway. Myself and Captain Audra Whitehill were the only captains still on the island during the attack. Audra couldn’t be sure if her comms were down, but she didn’t receive any messages during the morning. We were able to contact the other captains the next day, and neither remember receiving any communications during that time, either.”
“And the kitchen staff?” Sion asked, his tone indifferent.
“Vasere Sundale questioned them,” Fawkes answered. “They say they saw Sion—or someone who looked like you—in the kitchens just before the incident in the library.”
“Was he acting strangely?” Rya could guess the answer, but it would help to keep the conversation moving. Besides, it didn’t hurt to have all of the information.
“They say he acted normally, except…”
“Except?” She leaned forward at the waist. “Fawkes, tell me.”
“Well, he kissed a kitchen attendant named Darbi Greendale.”
Only Sion’s hand on her thigh kept her seated, but she could feel her cheeks heating as her jealousy swelled. “I hate her.”
“It wasn’t actually me,” Sion reminded her.
Rya didn’t care. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”
“She’s young. It’s just a harmless infatuation. She’ll get over it.”
“Well, it’s not as if you do anything to discourage it.”
“Should we leave you two alone?” Splaying his hands out in front of him, Garrik looked between them with a mixture of amusement and irritation. “Or can I continue?”
“Continue.” She’d been working herself into an irrational rage over something that hadn’t even happened. Idly, she wondered if this was how Sion felt every time he’d been overcome by possessiveness.
“The male who attacked you, we were able to identify him.”
The cushion beside her dipped as Sion sat up straighter, alert for the first time. “Was he from the Northern Isle?”
Though his gaze cut toward Sion, Garrik spoke directly to Rya. “Lirsain Goldleaf. He worked in the mountains of Naduin mining lakatsa.”
Sion understood “mountains.” Everything else might as well have been gibberish. “Where is Naduin and what the fuck is lakatsa?”
“Naduin is the capital city of the Northern Isle,” Rya explained while her brother snorted impatiently. “Lakatsa is a black stone with flecks of gold that look like shining stars. We call it a wishing stone, but really, it’s an excellent conductor for magic. The younglings use it when they’re first learning.”
For some reason, it surprised him to realize that the Xenon needed to learn magic. He’d naively assumed they were simply born with the knowledge of how to control and manipulate their abilities.
“Ivy had one.” He hadn’t known its name, but he remembered the stone pendant. “She nearly burned down the citadel.”
Without context, Rya didn’t understand how the pieces of information related to one another, but she smiled politely and covered Sion’s hand with her own. She still had trouble deciphering all of his strange sayings, but she’d begun to realize not everything he said required a response.
Turning his hand over on his knee, Sion linked their fingers together and squeezed. “This guy who pretended to be me came from the Northern Isle, but you’re saying there are no suspects? Really?”
“What do you want? We can’t just start throwing people in cells because they happen to live in the same city.” Pushing to his feet, Garrik folded his arms over his chest and sneered. “Vasere Silveroak returned home because his soulmate needed him. Naturally, his brother accompanied him. It’s not exactly a ringing endorsement of guilt, kitten.”
Sion launched himself off the loveseat so quickly, Rya nearly missed the motion. Standing only inches from Garrik, he prodded him in the chest with his index finger while a series of rumbled threats spilled from his lips. Some were colorful. Some vulgar. Most Rya had never heard.
“Call me kitten one more time,” Sion challenged. “One more time, asshole.”
Silently, Fawkes crossed the small sitting area, took Rya by the elbow, and urged her to her feet. “Come, let us not linger.”
“Oh, but, shouldn’t we—”
“No, leiling.” Fawkes hurried her across the room to stand near the arched doorway. “In this instance, I think it’s best if we allow their quarrel to play out to its conclusion. I believe the confrontation has been building for some time now.”
It had been years since Fawkes had addressed her by the pet name, and that more than anything captured her attention. “True, but I don’t like it. Why do males always think beating each other senseless is the answer?”
“We don’t,” Fawkes assured her. “It is, however, quicker and more efficient than long discussions about feelings.”
Despite the seriousness of the situation and her mounting worry, Rya had to cover her mouth to muffle a giggle. “Fawkes Hollywell, do I detect a note of mockery?”
Fawkes folded his hands behind his back and stared straight ahead. “I’m not sure what you mean, Vasera.”
His coyness would have made her laugh again if Sion hadn’t chosen that moment to drive his fist into her brother’s face. Garrik retaliated with a sharp jab to the shifter’s midsection, followed swiftly by a sweeping kick to his legs.
“You don’t deserve my sister! You don’t even deserve to breathe the same air as her. If you had any honor, you’d crawl back under whatever rock you oozed out from.”
Rolling to the side to avoid a boot to the face, Sion used the momentum to gain his feet, but crouched low as he circled the captain. Rya had watched the sentries spar, had seen her share of blood and bruises, but she’d never seen anyone fight like Sion. He moved with the grace of a feline, his movements purposeful and fluid. She’d never thought anyone could best her brother, but then again, she’d never met anyone like her mate.
“Sion does seem to be enjoying himself,” she mused. “Look, he’s smiling.”
“Yes, well, warriors do enjoy a good battle.”
Fawkes angled his shoulders, allowing her a clear view while keeping himself between her and the dueling males. Instinctively, she knew that if he thought for even a moment she was in danger, he would remove her from the room, whether she liked it or not.
She wouldn’t.
Oddly, the sight of two people she loved throwing punches and kicks at each other didn’t elicit the anxiety she expected. As long as Garrik didn’t resort to magic, both males were equally matched, and though it pained her to admit it, Fawkes had been right. The hostilities between Sion and Garrik had been simmering for some time, and she’d known it would eventually spill over into a physical altercation. She just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon.
Damaging each other too badly would hurt her, and neither of them would want that. Not because she was some delicate flower who needed tending, but because they cared about her, the same as she would never do anything to intentionally hurt them.
That didn’t mean no one would bleed. A fact proven when Sion caught Garrik in the nose with a right hook, snapping the captain’s head to the side and sending a stream of crimson spraying across the tiled floor. Dragging his arm across his face to mop up the blood, Garrik only succeeded in smearing it over his skin. He made a truly gruesome sight, and for a moment, Rya considered intervening.
“You fucking animal!” Garrik raged.
Sion laughed. “I’ve been called worse. Is that really the best you’ve got?”
“I’m just getting started.”
Lifting his right hand, Sion curled and extended his fingers several times in quick succession. “Bring it on, cupcake.”
Rya saw it before Sion did, and she opened her mouth to shout a warning, but Garrik was too quick. With an enraged cry, he sent an explosion of green light hurdling through the
air. The concentrated blast of magic hit Sion in the chest, sending him tumbling head over heels across the floor where he stopped abruptly by crashing into the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf.
Even as leather-bound books tumbled around him and littered the floor, Sion rolled to his hands and knees, but he wasn’t Sion anymore, not exactly. His clothes ripped at the seams, falling from his body in tattered scraps. His body lengthened, grew, stretched, and realigned. Russet fur grew thick over his bronzed skin, and his canines extended dangerously. Massive paws the size of dinner plates padded across the floor, the sound inaudible beneath the snarling, growling, and hissing.
Rya had seen Sion shift before, and while it had been impressive, the feline currently stalking her brother was easily three times larger. By the ancestors, if he wanted, he’d devour Garrik in one bite.
“What the fuck?” the captain shouted, stumbling backward into their father’s old writing desk. “What the hell is that?”
“Sion!” Rya took one step, two, then bounced back when Garrik threw his hands up, creating a protective barrier between her and Sion. “Garrik, stop. He won’t hurt me.”
If anything, Garrik should have put the barrier around himself, because the massive cat continued to stalk toward him with low, rumbling growls.
“Vasera, please.” Fawkes held tight to her elbow, gently but firmly trying to pull her back toward the exit.
“Great galaxies and falling stars, just stop!” she yelled. “Fawkes, let me go!”
Suddenly, Sion’s huge, furry head whipped toward her, his penetrating gaze locked on Fawkes, or more precisely, the hand he had wrapped around her arm.
“Fawkes,” she whispered, not taking her eyes off her mate, “let go and back away. Slowly.”
In his current form, Sion couldn’t speak, but he chuffed his approval. Some part of him recognized the attendant, but he couldn’t remember why he shouldn’t hurt the guy. The male stood too close, held too tightly to Rya. He wanted her to leave. He wanted to take her away from him, but Sion wouldn’t allow it.
The farther he sank into his primal rage, the less aware he became of anything except his mate. Turning to go to her, he dropped his head and purred, communicating without words that she didn’t need to be afraid of him. He’d never hurt her. Never. The same couldn’t be said for the males in the room, however.