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Before we leave, I insist that Draggar should be checked over as well and he reluctantly agrees. After using his scanner thing, Warrix gasps as soon as he reads the information on the screen. “There are traces of bane nectar in your body. You were poisoned?”
I can sense the hesitation inside Draggar, but after a brief pause, he nods his head. “The Tussoll shot me with a poisoned arrow.” He clears his throat. “If not for my amoris, I do not know if I would have recovered.” He exhanges glances with me and I can feel the warmth in his gaze as it sweeps over me.
After the medic asks a couple of more pointed questions, he declares that Draggar is well on his way to a full recovery.
As we continue on our ramble through the village, two young boys begin to trail alongside us. I recognize one of them as the boy who screamed when he saw me earlier. At first, they’re shy and they watch me with wary, but curious expressions. As the minutes pass, Draggar’s teasing puts them at ease and they flock around us. They clamber around and watch him with something that looks a lot like hero worship, and I feel a rush of pride swell my chest. He really is something special.
The boys are adorable with full cheeks and bright smiles, but I notice they lack the thick ridges I’ve seen on the older Laediriians. When I ask, Draggar explains that children slowly develop the thick protective ridges throughout childhood and they’re not completely formed until adulthood. They also don’t have full-camouflage abilities until they’re grown. I’m not sure of the boys’ ages, but one looks to be about the same age as Zoe with the other one being a little older, and my heart gives a pang at the thought of the little girl.
Draggar bends down and allows the smaller boy to clamber onto his back for a piggyback ride, and I cannot stop smiling as he eventually ends up giving the other boy a ride on his shoulders as we walk through the village.
We end our tour back close to the center of the village at a building that I didn’t notice before. It’s larger and more ornate than the others and it’s made entirely of black stone with intricate engravings. The bioluminescent vines hang from the eaves like Christmas lights, and a heavy wooden door with molded details shields the entrance.
The boys come to a stop a few feet away from the door and watch us with eyes bright with curiosity. The excited stream of chatter they’ve kept up falls silent and expectant, and I realize that this building must be a really special place to the tribe.
Maybe it’s like a temple or holy place or something. Their species probably has those.
Draggar opens the thick door and escorts me through it with a large hand against my back and I shiver in the quiet stillness of the room.
The large, airy room has windows along two walls that let in a steady stream of light from the the moons and the glowing vines that chases away any shadows that might be lurking. The wooden floor and even the walls shine in the light and an herbal scent lets me know that the room has been recently cleaned. Wooden benches are placed strategically around the room.
Finally, my gaze lands on the objects in the center of the room and I gasp in amazement. It’s not a shrine or anything else like I expected, but I really should have. After all, Draggar told me about them.
In the middle of the room are two clear tubes that sit on metal bases. Each tube is filled with blue liquid that gives off a bright luminous glow. One of the tubes contains what looks like a small creature.
These are the artificial wombs the tribe uses to reproduce.
I carefully cross to them, my breath held in reverent silence, and I study the fetus inside the tube. It looks nearly fully formed with fingers and toes and even little pointy ears. Its skin is translucent allowing me to see the dark lines of blood vessels running through it, and I suddenly realize that for all the enormity of the Laediriians I’ve seen, this fetus looks smaller than even a human baby. As I stare, it twitches and I would almost swear it tilts its head towards me.
I turn to Draggar and notice he’s come to a halt beside me with his gaze squarely fixed on the artificial womb in front of us.
“It is my brother’s.” He grimaces and I can feel the grief that descends over him. “Was my brother’s.”
“Your brother?” I move closer to him and link hands with him. His entire concentration is focused on the tube and its contents, and for a moment, I’m not sure if he heard me or if he even remembers that I am here.
Finally, he nods and squeezes my hand. “Danir. He died not long after depositing his seed in the womb.”
I want to ask how his brother died, but it’s clear that Draggar misses his brother very much and he is still dealing with his loss. So, I wait, letting him take as much time as he needs. We stand there in silence until finally a shudder goes through him and he begins to tell me about his brother.
“Danir enjoyed hiking up the mountain. He said he liked the view of the land and feeling closer to the sky.” He smiles sadly. “He was always climbing things when we were kitlings. Trees, huts. When he was a small kitling, our father found him sitting on the roof of our hut one day. He declared he was planning to live up there. He even tried to move his bed to the roof.” He huffs out a laugh before quickly growing somber again.
“We found him at the base of the mountain. I don’t know if he had an accident or what, but his body was. . . it was crushed. He was almost unrecognizable.” Draggar looks down at the floor for a silent moment, the muscle in his jaw clenching. When he raises his gaze to meet mine, my chest clenches with the agony clouding his eyes. “He was my younger brother. I should have been with him. I could have saved him.” Pain clogs his throat as silent tears trickle down his cheeks. Seeing this big, strong warrior wearing his emotions on his sleeve makes me crumble, and I pull him into a hug.
He goes into my arms easily and buries his face against my neck, hot tears spilling on my skin. I run my hands up and down his back and murmur soothing words, trying in any way I can to ease the hurt and sadness he feels. I wish I could take it all away and make everything better, but I can’t. Only time will lessen the grief he feels.
We stand like that for a long time, until finally a hard shudder wracks his frame and he pulls back to gaze at me. Wet tracks streak down his sculpted face, but his eyes are molten gold. I’ve learned over the last few days that whenever he feels strong emotions, his eyes change and the gold flecks expand until they drown out the silver.
He presses a long, gentle kiss to my lips that is so different from the hot, passionate ones we’ve exchanged so far, but somehow, it’s the best kiss, yet. It sounds completely cheesy, but it’s almost like our spirits are embracing, too, while we kiss. This spirit mate stuff is really intense.
When we pull back from each other, I’m breathless and dizzy with a warmth centered in my chest. It slowly spreads out to my limbs and leaves me feeling like I’m glowing. It’s a sensation that is quickly becoming familiar and I’m hooked on it.
But I have more important things to do right now. Draggar is hurting and feels guilt for his brother’s death, and it’s not in my nature to let anyone I care about hurt.
I cup his face with my hands and tell him, “You couldn’t have known your brother would die that day. No one could. Accidents are just that. . . they’re accidents and it’s no one’s fault. You brother sounds like he enjoyed life to the fullest and he was doing what he loved. He wouldn’t want you bear the brunt of guilt for his death. He would want you to live life to the fullest, just like he did. He would want you to be happy.”
I take a deep breath and plunge ahead. “When I was a kid, my mother died from cancer. It was just me and my dad after that. He tried his hardest to both my mom and my dad. He was my rock. Then, just after I graduated college, my dad was on his way to help me move into my first apartment. He was in a car accident. He died.” I don’t know if all of my words are translating correctly to Draggar, but he seems to be following along with my story.
I frown as my thoughts drift back to those days. “I blamed myself for both of their deaths. If only I had been a better kid, not acted out, gotten better grades. Maybe my mom would have had time to go to the doctor more and maybe the cancer would have been caught sooner. If only I had been with my dad in the car, maybe I would have been able to stop the accident from happening. Or maybe if I just hadn’t asked for his help. But maybes are nothing more than a figment of our imagination. We can’t go back and change the past. All we can do is keep moving forward and cherish all of the good memories we had with them. And if we do that, they’ll always stay alive in our hearts and minds.”
