“Not a daughter of Ain…” is all he says.

I take a breath.

“No,” I shake my head. “I am not.”

Kol leans forward. Everyone else is completely silent, not even their whispering thoughts reaching my mind. He inhales deeply, scenting me. “But you are female. In the image of Rok sharing your water, I saw that you had no pouch. No member.”

Back to this again. I try not to blush, clearing my throat instead.

“You are correct.” I take another deep breath. “Not a daughter of Ain, but female still.”

A collective intake of breath that seems to draw the very air from the cave. The mental whispers suddenly intensify—a cacophony of wonder, disbelief, hope, and fear that makes my temples throb.

“I’m sorry.” I close my eyes so I can focus my thoughts. “I’m sorry if that’s disappointing. Sorry if that’s not what you want to hear. But I beg, my sister and the others, the other women, the other females, they need your help. They will die out there if no one helps them.”

I swallow hard, waiting for his response. When I finally open my eyes, Kol is studying me intently. As is everyone else in the cave except Rok. He’s meeting each of their gazes in turn, tension radiating from his frame. As if should one of them make a move, he will tear their throat out.

“We…” Kol starts. “We will not let females die. That would go against everything passed down from generations of Drakav. You say you are no daughter of Ain, but you fell from Ain and landed in the dust. You are daughter enough to us.”

The weight of his words settles over me. He doesn’t have to spell it out. They will help us.

The relief I feel can’t even be put into words or thought. Tears brim in my eyes, a single one running down my cheek.

The cave grows suddenly quiet—not a single thought coming through. Then all at once, every golden eye in the cave fixes on the teardrop trailing down my face.

“She…leaks water,” comes Tharn’s shocked exclamation, breaking the silence.

And suddenly the mental barrage intensifies, becoming a focused onslaught directed at me from all sides.

“—her face produces water!—”

“—is this how females share?—”

“—precious resource from her eye-holes⁠—”

“—what does it taste like?—”

“—is she injured? Why does she leak?—”

“—can all females make water appear?—”

“—Rok must be powerful to bond with a water-maker⁠—”

“—imagine never thirsting in the dust again⁠—”

The onslaught is like a physical pressure against my mind, dozens of voices clamoring for attention. I press my hands to my temples, wincing as the mental noise grows louder, more insistent.

Rok notices immediately. Without hesitation, he shifts to face me, gently taking my face between his hands. Pressing his forehead to mine, he creates a bubble of quiet around my consciousness, blocking out the invasive thoughts.

“Focus on me,” he instructs gently. “Only me. Build walls around your mind—strong, high. You control who enters.”

I concentrate, visualizing the barrier as he describes. To my surprise, it works—the chaotic voices recede, becoming distant murmurs rather than shouting crowds.

“Yes,” he encourages, his mental voice warm with pride. “Like that. You learn quickly, my Jus-teen.”

The tenderness in his thoughts, the gentle care in his touch—it overwhelms me with gratitude. Without thinking, I lean forward and press my lips to his in a brief, chaste kiss.

When I pull back, I become aware of the absolute silence that has fallen over the cave once more. Everyone’s attention is fixed on us, expressions ranging from shock to fascination to something darker, hungrier.

“What was that joining?” Kol’s voice booms in my head, absolutely cutting through the barrier I’d created. “What ritual is this?”

Heat floods my cheeks again. Oh fuck. This is like one of those alien movies where the clueless human accidentally marries the chieftain’s son, starts an interplanetary war, and overthrows a thousand-year-old religious order all before dinner. At this rate, I’m going to single-handedly destroy their entire cultural foundation before bedtime.

“It’s called a kiss,” I explain reluctantly. “It’s…a gesture of affection among my people.”

“Affection,” Kol repeats, as if tasting the word. “Like grooming?”

“Sort of,” I hedge, not wanting to dive into the intricacies of human romance. “More intimate.”

“Do all your females perform this type of water sharing, too?” Tharn asks, his voice carrying an undertone I can’t quite identify.

“Well, yes,” I admit. “With people they care about.”

This revelation sends a ripple of excitement through the gathered clan. I can almost see the wheels turning in their heads, imagining a world full of females who might bestow such “affection” on them.

Oh god. What have I done?

“Enough,” Rok growls, his arm encircling my shoulders. “My female needs rest.”

Kol studies us for a long moment, his face unreadable. Finally, he inclines his head. “Rest. At first light, we journey to find your lost ones.”

Rok stands and offers me his hand. “Come,” he projects softly. “You need rest.”

I take his hand, grateful for the escape from the intense scrutiny. My legs ache from sitting cross-legged for so long, and exhaustion weighs on me like a physical burden. The events of the day have left me completely drained.

Rok leads me through a narrow passage branching off from the main cavern. The tunnel winds deeper into the cliff face, occasionally opening into smaller chambers.

“Here,” Rok projects finally, gesturing to an opening in the stone wall.

He guides me into what is clearly his personal space—a modestly sized chamber carved into the living rock. The ceiling is low enough that he must duck slightly to enter, though there’s enough room for me to stand comfortably.

Rok watches my face as I take in his dwelling. His chest is puffed slightly, but as he follows my gaze, his expression shifts to uncertainty, then something like embarrassment.

“This is my chamber,” he explains. “I earned it when I became scout leader. Few have their own space.”

I can tell he’s seeing it through my eyes now, and finding it lacking. The chamber is Spartanly furnished—a pile of animal hides in one corner serves as bedding; various tools and weapons hang from pegs hammered into cracks in the stone; a small niche holds what appear to be personal items—a collection of unusual stones, a piece of metal that might be from a ship, and a few bone carvings.

Rok’s brow furrows as he scans the bare rock walls. “It is…not much,” he projects hesitantly. “Not worthy of a female.”

I reach for his hand, squeezing it gently. “It’s perfect,” I tell him, and I’m being honest.

Because at this moment, it is. It’s shelter, it’s safety, and most importantly, it’s away from dozens of curious eyes and probing minds. My legs feel ready to buckle beneath me, and my eyelids are growing heavier by the second.

Rok seems unconvinced by my assurance, his gaze still moving critically around the chamber. “Tomorrow I will make it better,” he decides. “More comfortable for you.”

“Tomorrow,” I agree, though in my mind, tomorrow holds more pressing concerns—finding the others, making sure they’re safe. The thought of Jacqui and the rest of the women alone in the wasteland sends a fresh spike of anxiety through me.

As if sensing my thoughts, Rok guides me to the pile of hides. “Rest now,” he projects gently. “We will find your people when Ain rises. That is my oath.”

I sink gratefully onto the surprisingly soft bedding, too exhausted to even remove my shoes. The hides smell of him. It’s oddly comforting.

“Sleep,” Rok projects, settling beside me, his body radiating warmth in the cool chamber. “I will keep watch.”

As consciousness begins to slip away, my last coherent thought is of tomorrow—of traveling through the desert, of facing unknown dangers, of the hope and fear warring within me.