He huffed.

“I mean very, very fearsome,” I corrected, biting back a smile.

He huffed again, though it was shorter. Zaridan could be proud. Perhaps Lygath was as well.

I was within arm’s reach of him. I walked until I looked into one of his eyes. Golden and slitted black. I could see my reflection in them, so clear, even in the darkness. His pupil contracted on me.

I felt the warmth of connection. Like I knew him. I had seen him the majority of my life. He was familiar.

“I know I’m meant to be yours and you’re meant to be mine,” I said quietly. “Can you not feel that, Lygath?”

A breeze shuffled between us, blowing the ends of my hair, the tendrils caressing the Elthika’s scales. He watched me closely. I had the sense he could see all of me. Every facet of my being.

I heard the rustling. I held my breath because it was familiar. The sy’asha. The song of his scales.

But then he quieted it, as determination rose in me. He did feel it. He did know. My hand rose between us. His pupil flicked to it. A shudder racked through him, a low growl rising in his throat, but it didn’t sound ominous. More like a purr, though perhaps that was my own delusion.

Slowly, with bated breath, I pressed my hand to his snout. His nostrils flared, the muscles pulling and flexing beneath my palm. He was cool to the touch, his scales like armored silk. I traced my fingers over his cheek until they were right below his eye. His pupil contracted before widening.

Dannik and Sora had always wanted me to fight more. Fight more for what I wanted.

There is always defeat in your eyes, sister, Dannik had told me once.

No longer. Their words, their belief in me gave me strength. Sarkin gave me strength, especially knowing what I did now.

“I will be at Tharken again,” I said, the determined words pulled from me.

I knew what I had to do. To carve a place for myself within Sarkin’s horde. To claw my way to his side, where I wanted to belong. I didn’t have to prove it to Sarkin. But his people would never see me as their equal if I didn’t do this.

“If you’d like, come find me there. I’ll be waiting.”

Then I sat down next to him, gazing out at the lake.

“But until then, let’s just sit here together for a little while.”

I woke next to Sarkin, though I felt as awake as I had next to Lygath in my dream.

Calm had settled in place of shame. I felt determination rise in me, a wave that washed over me and gave me strength.

I watched my husband breathe as he slept, pressing my hand to his bare, warm chest to feel the steady beat of his heart.

Deep affection burst in me until I felt like I couldn’t breathe. He was every bit the mate I’d always dreamed of…one I’d never allowed myself to believe I’d actually find.

And he was stronger than anyone I’d ever known.

His story, the tragedy and loss he’d endured, losing everyone he’d loved so quickly…I couldn’t imagine his strength to withstand that. To come out on the other side as a Karath, taking the role of the male who’d sentenced his father to death.

I felt like I understood him better now. He told me he’d been reckless once, that Zaridan had taught him patience. I wondered if during rider training, with his newfound freedom far from home, far from his responsibilities, he’d taken his freedom too far, pushing limits he never could before. Maybe his anger had driven him, or perhaps the unfair fate he’d been given.

Only now, he seemed like the opposite of that young rider. His loss had made him strong but detached from the world. Never truly a part of it. I’d often felt that way in Dothik after losing my mother. We had more in common than I’d believed. We’d both lost those we loved dearly and felt the sting of their absence.

Compared to my woes of Lygath’s rejection, his story had only reminded me that the limits of our will knew no bounds. What was one rejection in comparison to what Sarkin had experienced?

There was no excuse for it. I’d been feeling sorry for myself, pitying myself.

No more.

Sarkin deserved a great queen at his side, a queen who could pull herself out of the shadows, just as he’d done. His horde would learn that they could not dismiss me. I needed to prove to them that I was worthy of their king.

Because for the first time…I believed that.

As I felt the reverberation of Sarkin’s heartbeat, my eyes trailed to his wrist. To the black cuff.

Slowly, I reached forward and unhooked the hidden metal clasp. Sarkin had barely slept since we’d left the mountain village. I hoped he was tired enough to not notice I was gone because if he knew what I would do, he would try to stop me.

I took the cuff, clutching it tight in my hand, and held my breath as I rose from the bed. Years in the quiet archives had taught me stealth. The carpet dulled the sound of my footsteps as I hurriedly dressed, not bothering to change from my shift dress but simply pulling up riding trews and shoving my feet into my boots.

The tether that I’d used on Lygath—the one that had slipped from my grip and fallen below into the shadows of the cliff pass—was hanging slung over a stool. Sarkin had retrieved it when they’d recovered the acolyte’s body. He’d said nothing, but I’d noticed its appearance that first night. Now I reached for it, winding it around my fist as I untied a few laces on the tent’s entrance, just enough that I could wiggle through.

It wasn’t yet dawn, but it would be here soon. The air was biting cold, and my nipples pebbled underneath the thinness of my dress I was using as a tunic. The encampment was deathly quiet. All the revelry from the celebration had died down, and I prayed to Kakkari that everyone was still sleeping.

No one roused as I snuck through the camp, keeping to the edges. I didn’t want to risk Sarkin hearing Zaridan land, so I dipped into the trees that grew up the mountainside, knowing there was another flattened landing not far from camp.

When I reached it, the stars sparkled in the indigo sky, as the moon lowered. I clasped Sarkin’s cuff onto my wrist to keep it secure. Though it was a tight fit on him, it drooped on me, and I hoped it wouldn’t fall off. Taking a deep breath, I pressed the button on the side. I heard nothing, but I knew Zaridan would hear the signaling call, no matter where she was.

Sure enough, a few long minutes later, I heard the telltale beat of her wings. She landed before me, her head moving meaningfully to look for Sarkin, but I approached her instead. She lowered her head to regard me as I pressed my hand to her snout. Her cool scales beneath my palm felt so much like her brother’s.

“Take me to Lygath,” I said quietly. “Take me to Tharken. Hanniva.”

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Chapter 39KLARA

Lygath appeared at dawn.

His scales sparkled like morning dew as the first rays of the sun broke over the cliffs. He came gliding into the Tharken Pass, heading straight for me.

The sight felt so familiar, even in sunlight. But as my gaze darted around the opposite cliffside, I knew this wasn’t like the illa’rosh. I didn’t truly have any concept of how this would be regarded by the Karag. Technically the choosing was over, the last of the acolytes relented.

Though by their own laws, an Elthika could be claimed at the Tharken cliffs at any time of the year. And here Lygath was…

As I’d known he would be.

I’d crossed the distance to him in my dreams, calling him here. And this time, I knew he wanted to be claimed. He’d been given a choice. Mine had already been made.