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“My people don’t . . . name each other.”
“How do you refer to one of you who isn’t there?” She truly was from another world. Or her ancestors were, assuming her species reproduced.
“We don’t.”
“I guess you don’tneeda name.” I shouldn’t feel bad for her. Names didn’t mean much. It wasn’t like we picked them for ourselves. But . . . I guess without one she felt . . . generic. That wasn’t the right word, but I couldn’t think of a better one.
“If you were going to name me, what would it be?” she asked.
“Oh, I couldn’t do anything like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because . . .” I strode closer to her and lowered my voice to keep Nevarn from overhearing. “They think you’re a god.”
“And you don’t.”
“You aren’t one. Right?”
She said nothing, just stared at me.
“You can’t be a god.”
“Why not?”
“Because . . .” I didn’t have an answer.
“Not everything has an explanation,” she said. “Go ahead. Name me.”
“You should name yourself.” I explained about how babies were born on Earth and given names—ones they might never choose for themselves. “Name yourself and you won’t end up with everyone calling you Brunhilda.”
“I don’t wish to do this for myself, though Brunhilda . . .”
“Don’t even go there.”
“Then name me.”
“What if you’re insulted by my choice?”
“Name me!”
I jerked in a breath. “My mom’s name was Helena.”
“Helena.” She said it slowly as if tasting it. “I like it. Thank you.”
“You’re, um, welcome.”
Pounding erupted from outside, and we all looked that way.
“Her mate has come for her,” Helena said, her lidless eyes turning toward the door before flicking to Nevarn hovering near the wall. “You need to release her.”
Something slammed against the outer wall, and the entire tree shuddered.
Helena frowned. “He will harm this structure that has been here for many, many generations.”
“Vanessa,” Aizor bellowed.
“Aizor!” I raced to the door but couldn’t find a way to open it. “Let me out of here.” I looked back at Helena. “Thank you for healing my arm.”
