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“My former traedor told me that my clan could attend the gathering.” His gaze traveled to Vanessa, and he subtly turned, lifting his thigh as if he needed to protect his groin. “It’s been three years. I’m no longer banished.”
I grunted. “Then you’re rejoining your former clan?”
“We have our own clan, our own lands.” He stiffened his spine. “I’m traedor, and we will remain where we are. And . . .” He grumbled; his gaze fixed on my mate. “I apologize for spying on your clan. We promise to remain within our own lands from now on unless you invite us to visit.”
I wanted to snarl at him, to shout that he had no right to spy at all, but I also liked the idea of a secure border on his side.
And from the way Krute was nodding slowly and looking at me with an apology in his eyes, I knew letting this go would work out best for both of our clans.
“You’re welcome at my fire,” I said.
“Thank you,” Nevarn said quite solemnly. “I’ll bring . . . Helena. She would like to speak with your kitchen god. She mentioned something about cookies.”
“Your god is also welcome.”
Vanessa just grinned and leaned into my side.
I could respect a male who chose to lead rather than follow. If his former traedor, Firion, had forgiven Nevarn, how could I do anything less? As if thinking of them made them appear, members of the Dastalon, or sky warrior clan, appeared overhead, soaring their mighty crystal beasts in a circle like birds of prey before guiding them down to land a short distance from us.
“Whoa,” Vanessa said, cringing into my side.
I placed an arm around her back, holding her close “Their beasts won’t cause you harm, my mate. Nor will this clan. They’re friends. Come, I’ll introduce you.”
She shot me a wide-eyed look I’d become used to. She wasn’t familiar with our world yet, but she was slowly learning about not only the Indigan Clan but the other Zuldruxians I was friendly with.
We left Nevarn and strolled over to where the Dastalon Clan had landed their beasts. They unharnessed them and left them to graze, striding confidently toward us.
Firion was as tall and broad as me, and about my age. He wore dark blades in sheaths at his sides, and when the wind swept across the island, it whipped his hair around his pretty face. Would my mate find him attractive? I shouldn’t feel jealous, but . . . every female I’d known swooned when they saw Firion, even Jessia.
“This is Firion, the traedor of the Dastalon Clan,” I said gruffly, waving to the other male when we stopped on the path, facing each other. “Firion, this is my mate, Vanessa, who you will not smile at.”
Firion smiled. “Why not?”
Vanessa’s breath caught, and she held out her hand to the other male.
He stared at it before stooping down and sniffing it. “Lovely.”
“My lovely,” I growled.
“Of course.” He flashed his tusks.
Vanessa limped into my side, stroking her hand across my abdomen exposed by my formal, adorned vest. I’d asked the gods to dress me to impress the other traedors, and they’d delivered glorious clothing unlike any I’d worn before. Vanessa also looked amazing, wearing a tunic with intricate embroidery that hung to her knees and was belted with a sash as blue as our crystal homes.
“It’s nice to meet you, Firion.” Vanessa grinned up at me. “My mate is amazing, don’t you think?”
And maybe I didn’t feel jealous after all. I took her hand, squeezing it, and she squeezed right back.
“Fook eff,” I told Firion, turning and guiding my mate toward the central building.
Firion snorted and walked behind us with his males, entering the building but walking to the right rather than following us farther.
“He’s cute,” Vanessa said. “Not as cute as you, but cute.” Her mood sobered when she saw the pods holding her fellow Earthlings—the term she’d shared with me. “They’re all still lying there. I want them freed. They should be able to pick their own mate, not be given to a male they’ve never met,” Vanessa said. “Helena and I were just saying we thought this was wrong.” She stared past me, her eyes lighting up.
I turned to find “Helena” striding across the room, her limbs thudding against the floor with each step. The first time I’d seen her, I’d dropped to my knees. She’d laughed, then she told me to stand and look her in the eye, stating she wasn’t like the others.
She was a god come to life, and I’d praised her, worshipping her in the manner I’d found worked best with those of her kind.
She went on to explain that she was the same yet different from the others, that she didn’t need me groveling before her, that she preferred I treated her as a friend.
