“Well…except for a disgraced rider,” Sammenth amended, shrugging her shoulder. “But that happens so rarely.”

“Disgraced?” I asked, brow furrowing. “An Elthika can decide to leave their rider?”

“If the crime, in their eyes, is terrible enough, yes,” Sammenth said. “Only a few in Sarroth’s history have ever had that happened. The last time it happened was, you know, to the Karath’s father.”

Shock wiggled into my breast. “What?”

Sammenth blinked, frowning. “To Sarkin’s father. Tyzar rejected him after he stole the Elthika eggs? Surely you…oh.”

My mind spun.

“Sarkin…he never speaks of his father,” I said, feeling the obvious discomfort from Sammenth. “Or his mother, for that matter.”

“I’m sorry,” she breathed. “Ryena will be so angry with me. I thought you knew…because well, everyone knows. It’s followed Sarkin like a disease his entire life.”

“He told me…he told me he was challenged a lot after Zaridan. Because some didn’t think he was fit to be a Karath.”

“That’s part of it, yes. Especially by Elysom. His aunt is on the council. His mother was her sister.”

Suddenly it felt wrong to speak of these things. Sarkin hadn’t brought it up, though he’d given me an opportunity to the night of the starfall. He’d told me I could ask him anything and he’d tell me. Since then, we’d just been…happier. I hadn’t wanted to shake anything loose when we were finally on steady ground.

I heard an Elthika’s trilling cry into the sky, a familiar one. I turned to look over my shoulder, my heart beginning to pound.

“Zaridan,” I breathed, seeing her fly toward the mountain behind the village to rest. “They must be back.”

I stood, suddenly eager to see Sarkin, despite what I’d just learned.

“Ryena always scolded me for saying too much,” Sammenth said, biting her lip as she looked up at me from our place along the riverbank.

“I won’t say anything to her,” I promised.

“I really shouldn’t talk so much,” she sighed. “Go. Go find your husband. I’m sure you’re eager to see each other.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I promised, waving at her as I left.

I looked for Sarkin for long moments but couldn’t locate him. Thinking that maybe he’d already gone back to our dwelling, I went there, seeing that Sammenth had disappeared from the riverbank. I spied her walking down the path to the hatchery, likely to see Ryena.

When I reached our home, however, it was dark. Sarkin wasn’t here yet. Nevertheless, I lit the hearth and the wax candles that dotted the dwelling, golden light spreading across the furniture and dark stone walls. I was filthy from training, thinking to wash quickly before Sarkin returned. I stripped off and hopped into the heated bath, nearly groaning my relief as I sat on the ledge that ran along the edges, the water lapping at my collarbones.

As I soaked, I thought about what Sammenth had revealed about Sarkin’s father. A disgraced rider? I hadn’t thought such a thing was possible. I wondered why he’d stolen dragon eggs. I remembered Sarkin mentioning the Hartans, wanting the eggs before a war broke out. Had that had anything to do with it?

And what about his mother? How did she play into all this?

Only Sarkin could tell me. I only wanted him to tell me. But with such little time left before the choosing—the realization that we would likely leave tomorrow, which spread icy worry in my belly—I thought it could wait.

I was so lost in thought, I didn’t hear when Sarkin entered our dwelling.

I heard the quiet snap of the door bolting into place, and when I looked up, I saw him watching me through the gossamer curtains that separated the bath from the rest of the dwelling.

He held his travel bag and another bag, both of which he placed on the ground.

A sizzle of anticipation went through me as he approached, toeing off his boots, slipping off his vest, his tunic following. The laces of his trews were next as I felt my nipples pebble beneath the hot water.

Then he was naked, pushing back the curtain. The golden light made him look like a statue in Dothik of a Vorakkar of old. Perfectly sculpted, harshly beautiful, with a merciless expression.

“Welcome home, Karath,” I said quietly.

“What a beautiful welcome it is, Sorrina,” he answered, stepping down into the bath to join me, those swirling eyes never once leaving mine.

I licked my lips as I watched him approach.

“Do we leave in the morning?” I couldn’t help but ask.

Sarkin reached me, sinking down to take me into his arms. I pressed my face to his neck. He smelled like Zaridan. Like salty coastal air and crushed leaves. I breathed him in harder as black Elthika-scale dust floated in the water around us from his palms.

“Yes,” he replied. “I made sure to fly over Tharken on our way home. The Elthika are waiting. They are ready. We will leave at dawn.”

I ignored the sizzle of nerves. I would worry about it in the morning. Nothing would change now.

“Then let’s enjoy tonight.”

“Yes,” he rasped, pulling back so he could capture my lips. His hands roamed, and I arched into his touch, a gasp driving away all thoughts of the choosing. “Let me enjoy you, my aralye.”

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Chapter 35SARKIN

My fingertips trailed down Klara’s spine, skimming over the swell of her cheeks, making her twitch and shiver, making me smirk.

“Sensitive?” I asked, rolling into her in our bed, tugging her into the crook of my arm. How long it had been since I was so comfortable with a lover…

I thought it a blessing that I felt this way with my wife.

“Yes,” she said. Though I couldn’t see it, I heard her smile.

I smelled her hair, savoring this with her before the rush of the morning began. I rubbed my lips over the delicate—and sensitive—tips of her ears. I knew she needed to sleep, but I just wanted a few more quiet moments with her. We wouldn’t get any during the illa’rosh.

“Why had you never taken a lover in Dothik?” I asked, a question I’d been curious about ever since learning she’d been a virgin in Lishara’s temple. “Surely you had males vying for your attention.”

Saying the words out loud brought a discomforting feeling with it. One I thought might be jealousy. It was strange and foreign. It made me feel restless, and I hated the feeling. By nature, I’d never been jealous over past lovers. Some had tried to make me so, but not once had they ever succeeded.

And now I was jealous over faceless Dakkari or human males who might have tried to seduce my wife into their beds, long before I’d ever known her?

It was laughable. And irritating because I was getting jealous over a hypothetical, not a truth.

“Most men stayed away from me,” she said softly. “My scar kept many away. I’d learned most people don’t like to look at it, so I’d tried to hide it a lot. Keeping my face down, not making eye contact, keeping to the edges. Never bringing attention to myself.”

I jolted. To the Karag, scars were meant to be displayed. On females, they were considered attractive, alluring.

“I liked the archives. I never needed to hide there,” she told me. “Though in a way, I guess I was. There were other males, but I could always see their true intentions. They wanted to get close to me to get close to my family. Dannik usually scared them off, and I didn’t care for a single one.”

“You never wanted to experience sex? To know what it felt like, being with someone that intimately?”

“I did,” she said, her head lolling back onto my arm so she could meet me eyes. She smiled lazily. We’d made love twice—once in the bath, once in our furs. We were both sated, sleepy. “And now I do.”