Page 69 of Nansar
The elder nodded, seeming unoffended. "Yes. Exactly so." She gestured to her people, who watched with knowingsmiles. "A reputation we have cultivated with great care over many cycles. The prisoners who land upon this world—most are violent, desperate, cruel. They would take what we have built, harm our young, destroy our peace."
She turned back to us, her gaze sharp and intelligent. "But if they believe we are monsters? If they thought think we eat our captives, torture for sport, kill without mercy?" Her smile turned cold. "Then they give our lands a wide berth. They flee at the sight of our scouts. They avoid the Welati at all costs."
"So it's all an act?" Chloe breathed, wonder creeping into her voice.
"Not all," the elder admitted. "We kill to protect our own, always. But the rest is a necessary deception." Her expression warmed again. "We are a peaceful people. We wish only to live in harmony, to raise our families, to honor the old ways. But peace requires protection, and sometimes protection requires... a fearsome reputation."
Chloe crossed her arms, and I recognized the stubborn set of her jaw. "Okay, but then why put us through all that? The interrogation, the threats, making us think you were going to—" She gestured vaguely, drawing a finger across her throat, her cheeks flushing that delicious shade of pink that made me want to kiss her breathless.
The elder's smile turned knowing, almost indulgent. "Ah. A fair question." She looked at me. "We have seen you before, Nansar. You respect the land, take only what you need, harm none unless forced to defend yourself. We knew you were not like the others."
She turned her attention back to Chloe, her gaze softening with something that looked almost like affection. "But your arrival was... curious. We needed to be certain she was truly safe with you. That you meant her no harm."
"And?" Chloe asked, her voice small, vulnerable in a way that made my chest ache with the need to pull her close and shield her from every hurt the universe could throw at her.
"And we saw all we needed to see in the first few moments." The elder chuckled, a warm, rich sound. "The way you defended each other, spoke for each other, stood together even when you thought we might kill you both." She waved a hand dismissively. "After that, well..."
"Then I noticed Nansar scratching his horns," the elder continued, her smile turning positively mischievous. "And I decided to help you two find the desire the rest of us could plainly see rested between you." She shrugged, utterly unrepentant. "I am old, child. Sometimes I get bored."
Chloe's mouth fell open in indignation. "You—you were playing matchmaker? While threatening to execute us?"
"The threat was never real," the elder said with a laugh that seemed to come from deep in her belly. "But the entertainment? Very real indeed."
Chloe glanced at me, her brow furrowed, and I knew she was wondering about the comment regarding my horns. But thankfully, she didn't ask. Not here. Not now.
Though I suspected I would have to answer that question soon enough.
And what would I tell her when she asked? The truth felt like a cruelty I couldn't inflict—that the itching meant my soul had chosen her, recognized her as my mate in the most elemental way my species knew.
But I was a prisoner and would be until she was old and gray. Chloe deserved more than that. She deserved someone who could give her a real life, not a fugitive existence. Someone who could grow old alongside her, not watch helplessly as she wasted her life waiting on my freedom. Someone who could offer her the stars instead of hiding in the shadows. Someone free.
So when she asked—and she would ask, because my curious, stubborn human never let anything go—I would lie. I would tell her it meant nothing. Just an irritation, a minor discomfort. Anything but the truth that was carving itself deeper into my chest with every passing moment. That I wanted her more than I'd ever wanted anything, and that wanting her was the most selfish thing I could possibly do.
The elder's expression shifted, becoming more serious as she gestured to someone behind us. I turned to see a young Welati female step forward, her arms cradling an ornate wooden box. The craftsmanship was exquisite—dark wood polished to a deep sheen, the surface carved with intricate geometric patterns that seemed to dance and shift in the morning light, mimicking the living tattoos adorning the Welati's skin.
The young female knelt before the elder, presenting the box with both hands in a gesture of reverence. The elder nodded her thanks and carefully lifted the lid, revealing a cushion of woven fabric inside.
She reached in and withdrew something small that caught the light—a green stone, smooth and glowing like captured starlight. As she held it up between her weathered fingers, I noticed the intricate carvings etched into its surface, geometric patterns that perfectly mirrored the sacred tattoos marking every Welati. The craftsmanship was breathtaking, each line precise and deliberate, forming symbols that seemed to pulse with meaning beyond mere decoration.
"This stone," the elder said softly, her voice carrying the weight of something sacred, "is a symbol of our people. A token of friendship." She pressed the stone into Chloe's hand, her dark fingers closing gently around Chloe's pale ones. "You are friends of the Welati now. If you ever need help, show this to any of our people. We will come."
Chloe stared down at the stone cradled in her palm, her eyes wide with wonder, tears gathering at the corners. "I... thank you. I don't know what to say."
"Say nothing," the elder replied, her weathered hand patting Chloe's with affection. "Just remember. You will always have safe passage through Welati territory. You will always be welcome at our fires." Her gaze shifted to me, and something knowing—something that made my chest tighten—passed through her expression. "Both of you."
My throat tightened with emotion I hadn't expected. Such a gift was not given lightly among the Welati. "We are honored," I managed, bowing my head in respect.
The elder's smile softened, transforming her weathered features. "You have good hearts, both of you. The universe needs more of that." She gestured toward the village center with a sweep of her hand. "Now, let us see about getting you properly supplied for your journey."
Several Welati had already gathered, their arms laden with supplies. A young woman stepped forward first, offering two water skins that looked freshly treated and sealed. "These will not leak," she said simply, pressing them into Chloe's hands with a warm smile.
Another followed with cloth bags that smelled of dried meat and herbs, the scent making my mouth water. "Enough for many days," an older man said, his weathered face creasing with a smile. "The journey through the mountains is long and unforgiving."
More came forward—a pouch of dried fruit that gleamed like jewels, another of bread still warm from the morning ovens, a small clay jar sealed with wax that the elder explained contained healing salve made from mountain herbs. Each gift was given with quiet dignity, no fanfare or expectation of thanks.Just the simple generosity of a people who understood what it meant to travel far from home, to be strangers in a strange land.
Then I heard a familiar snort that made my lips twitch.
Starfield was being led toward us by two young Welati males, and I barely recognized her. The mare's coat gleamed in the morning light, brushed until it shone like burnished copper. Her sides had filled out considerably, and there was a contentedness in her eyes I hadn't seen since we'd left home—perhaps not even then.
