Night of the Zandians (Zandian Brides 1)

“She was more broken. She can’t bear young,” Ronan points out.

“Not like that. Inside her soul.” Tarren thumps his chest. “And don’t vecking laugh at me,” he orders, piercing us both with his dark eyes. Neither of us move. He continues, “I’m not good at this. But what if she chose to leave first because she thought we’d throw her out?”

I blink, a seed of hope starting to grow. “That’s what I’m beginning to wonder.”

“If she knew she couldn't have young, and there’s a bounty on her head for murder, surely she was worried for her very life?” Tarren’s voice gains strength.

“What,” scoffs Ronan. “Like we’d toss her back to the Ocretians if we found out?”

The words hang in the air like a poisonous gas.

“Maybe,” I say eventually. “Perhaps she did wonder about it. After all, King Zander never made any mention of what might happen if a human couldn’t bear children.”

“What would happen?” Tarren furls his brow. “Would he… force her to leave her mates so a new human could try?” He wrinkles his nose. “That’s unpalatable.”

“But perhaps necessary, from a lineage perspective,” I point out, although something in me protests at the thought.

“But does that even make sense? After all, there are still many more males than females,” argues Ronan. “It’s impossible that all of us could father a child right now. There simply aren’t enough human females to go around. There are still many unmated Zandian males at this point, even if they team up in groups of three and four. So…”

We are silent again, this time longer.

“I don’t care,” Tarren says, and stands up. “I want her anyway. Even if she never can give me young.” He has that stubborn face I recognize, the one he wears into battle, the expression that inspires us all. Because when his visage is this strong and set, there is no chance we can lose. “I love her, and I can forgive her for what she did. And if you two are the Zandians I think you are, you’ll agree.”

I get up, and stand beside him, as if we are readying ourselves for war. “I am with you.”

Veck, I hope it’s not too late. What if King Zander has already sentenced her to some horrible punishment for her deceit? Or—star forbid—sent her away? And we weren’t there to defend her? To protect her? To vouch for her?

I grind my teeth and tighten my fingers into fists. It’s unconscionable.

Ronan hesitates, and I see his youth in his eyes, and a hurt he can’t hide. His emotions are on easy display.

“Cousin,” I tell him softly, although I stay next to Tarren. “If we are right, she only lied because she was afraid.”

He still doesn’t get up, and I hold my breath. We can’t even try unless all three of us are on board. Finally he gets to his feet and comes toward us, extending both hands. We each take one and squeeze.

Tarren smiles. “We will go to King Zander and tell him that we demand to have her back,” he orders. “That we do not care about young, although they are fine for others who desire them and can handle their annoying habits. Of course.”

“Yes,” I say, my heart exulting. “We will tell her that we mated her, and that bond can stretch, and it encompasses forgiveness and tolerance. Understanding. Compromise. She does not need to leave.”

“Cousins. Brothers,” Ronan says. “Let’s go get our mate.”

13

Riya

I can’t eat. I’ve just been hiding in Lily’s chamber, with my head under the covers, crying since I arrived the planet rotation before.

Lily tries to soothe me. She keeps popping in, offering teas of chamomile and lemon balm, and those I accept. I’m staying under her guardianship right now in the palatial pod, until I’m granted an audience with Zander at his weekly open throne. It’s an awkward situation at best, at least I haven’t been summoned for immediate sentencing. That makes me think Zander won’t banish me outright.

I betrayed him and my mates and have wasted valuable time by allowing them to all think I could become pregnant. If they’d been with another human, she’d probably be several lunar cycles into a pregnancy by now, and that would be one more Zandian baby to build our future.

I try to occupy my mind with my research. The books Dr. Daneth gave me contain calculus—something called differential equations. They make sense to me, the symbols dancing into my brain and locking into place, opening new corridors I should be eager to explore. My fingers attack the screen, tapping and clicking, moving the numbers around. I am the master here, in complete control. My brain lights up and my fingers move faster, as I figure something out. This is what I need to do, to figure out the right ratios for my latest—

“Riya?” Lily comes in with a tray of soup. “I have cream of mushroom—your favorite.”

I retch at the smell. “Please take it away.” I put a hand to my mouth as I look up from my screen. My voice is sharp, and I add, “I’m sorry, I’m just too upset to eat.” Part of my irritation was not just at the intrusive odor, but the interruption to my trance. Now I’m back in reality, a place that is ugly for me, right now.

S