Page 112
Shame courses through me. I have not spoken to Luca about my breeding time—that I will be forced to attempt to create a new Vyastil with whatever female has been selected for me. That there is a very real risk to my life because it is likely I will not be able to perform.
I have also not explained to Luca that he is VySytheh, either.
I have failed him in many ways, and I don’t know if I will be able to recover his trust in me when all of this is over.
When I look up, Sabik is across the room, and he takes a pouch off his table, returning to me with his arm extended, the strings hanging off his claws. “This may help delay your breeding time, but please be warned that if you take this, when your rut comes, it will be stronger than usual.”
“How much time will this give me?” I ask, taking the pouch.
“If you are generous with using it and are willing to accept the risks that come with using it often, you may be able to delay it for two second-moon cycles. But I can’t guarantee it won’t come close to destroying you if your rut comes on and you are not able to sate yourself and your urge to breed.”
I understand what he’s saying. It could very well kill me, and I cannot take Luca in a rut because it may very well kill him.
I need to ensure I have something in place to keep my plans going, even if my breeding time takes me out. But that is something I will worry about in the next moon cycle. For now, I can protect myself and Luca.
“Thank you,” I tell him softly, tucking the pouch into my tunic.
He nods, then tilts his head to the side. “You did not come here for a solution to your rut. What is it you want from me?”
“Information,” I tell him. I must be blunt now. I have so little time to waste. “The Vyastil cannot keep living like this. It is destroying who we are.”
He hums.
“But it’s hard to break centuries of conditioning where we see everyone else as the enemy. And the lies that this is how the Vyastil are meant to be.”
His tentacles move restlessly along the ground. “And how may I help with that?”
“I need some sort of proof that the Vyastil and Tarek were allies in the past. That we were more alike. That there is a shared history beyond the wars.”
His gaze flicks to the side, locking on the burning fire. “That is dangerous, my friend.”
“I know, but I think it’s the only hope I have of convincing people to join me.” I pace, my tail flicking along the ground as restless energy courses through me. Off in the distance, I hear the rumble of the storm, and then I feel a prickle of fear coming from Luca. I send him a question, asking if he is okay. I get a brief flash of the incoming storm. I push feelings of safety and home at him, to let him know he is safe, though I get no further response.
He is being brave. I know this. He is…not alone?
Fear races up my throat as I try to shove my way into his head, but the only image I see is a fuzzy glimpse of Gerald before I’m shut out again.
I force a calming breath into my lungs. At worst it will be Dhoryn with Lucie come to visit, but I think I’m just being paranoid. One wrong move and I will lose Luca, and I am far too aware of that possible future for my liking.
Sabik makes a small trill in the back of his throat to regain my attention. “Is something wrong?”
“The storm,” I say. “It will be Luca’s first.”
“He is strong. He is not like the other,” Sabik tells me. “It will be less safe for you to go out there to be with him than it will be for him to keep shelter in your home.”
He’s right, of course. I can’t risk using a portal here in the caves, and the last place I want to be when the storm hits is in the forest. Walking over, I take a seat beside the fire as he follows me, settling on his tentacles, towering over me, though he does not make me feel small.
“There are stories the Tarek tell of when the Vyastil and we used to live in harmony. I believe there are records somewhere, but it will take me a while to find them.”
“I will do anything for your help,” I tell him.
He thinks quietly for a moment. He’s calculating, I know that much. He is much more than he presents himself to be, and I know he’s using this to gain the upper hand. But, I suppose, the Tarek deserve the upper hand after everything we’ve put them through.
“When this ends—if it ends in your favor,” he says, and I try not to flinch, “whoever you put in power must be willing to negotiate the return of our lands.”
The Outerlands, he means. Where all the herbs the Tarek have cultivated now grow. The lands we stole by force without any regret.
“Assuming I survive it, I will do everything in my power,” I promise him. I know it’s impossible to avoid all conflict. I know my plans may fail before we get anything off the ground.
