Page 8 of Healing His Mate

My gaze drifts down from the trees to the rooftops and unique designs of each structure surrounding the path we stand on. Each has a completely different shape, different sized windows, doors, and all are built around and against the neighboring trees, giving them the ability to continue growing.

“This is the main path of the village, and from here, you can see pretty much everything,” Aye-vah says, gesturing widely with her arms. “That’s Varrek and Chloe’s house over there.” She points to a tall, four-level home situated close to Kaiva’s med room. “Me and Ahlvo live in the one sort of diagonally behind it. That narrow path takes you through the forest to the clearing where all the ships are located.”

A tall, lanky male with maroon hair and a grimace on his face spots us from a distance, and a bad feeling twists my insides. He is familiar, this male, and clearly a Hexrin, but it is more than just what I remember from the day we left Trovilia. The caution I feel is tied to a more recent moment, a memory I cannot access. “Who is that?” I ask Aye-vah, gesturing toward him.

“Oh,” she replies, letting out a sigh of exasperation. “That would be Tibik. He’s the self-appointed leader of the Hexrins. We’re trying to figure out what to do with him after all the drama during the battle.”

I am inclined to ask more questions about him, but I am so distracted by the hate pumping through my blood and the growl rising in my chest that I cannot get the words out. Tibik hears my growl, and the moment his eyes land on me, I flash my lengthening fangs at him, and he quickly scurries back into the forest, the way he came.

“Wait. Do you remember him?” Aye-vah asks, a hopeful note in her voice.

“I do not,” I admit. “But I know I do not trust him.”

Aye-vah nods. “Not many of us do at this point.” She continues naming the residents of each home around the wide path––the names of whom sound vaguely familiar––as two humans (I think that is what they are, anyway), stride past and wave at Aye-vah.

“Hey, girls!” she shouts back, then leans toward me. “Those are two of our newest clan members, Heather and Iris. Six human women arrived a few days ago while you were still unconscious. They were discovered at a brothel on a neighboring planet. It seems like they’re settling in pretty well. Ekoya was kind enough to rescue them and send them here since she knew the presence of other humans would comfort them.”

Because of the name she just uttered, I am no longer interested in what these humans have endured or how they got here. “You said . . . Ekoya?”

“Yes, Queen Ekoya,” she says, nodding emphatically. “You must be so proud of her. Though being related to royalty must be kind of surreal.”

“Wh-what . . . I am sorry. I just . . . What did you say?” I stammer. I am not comprehending her words. “My sister is dead. She was the only sibling I had. She died from the virus. I do not—”

“Oh! Oh, fuckity, fuck, fuck. I am so sorry, Nalba. I keep forgetting all the things missing from your memories,” Aye-vah replies in a rush, smacking her palm against her forehead. “Okay, so um, Ekoya is alive, and she is now Queen of Trovilia. Varrek’s father was keeping her locked in a dungeon beneath the castle. He was planning on using her in his breeding program or whatever. I can’t remember the details, but she survived the virus.”

The world spins around me and my knees buckle. Suddenly, my fingers are clawing through layers of dirt and squishy blue moss. The air is heavy, and it feels as if I am being pushed down.

She is alive. Ekoya is alive. I never got to say good-bye to her, and she is . . . alive.

“Kaiva!” I hear Aye-vah yell. Her voice is distant now, despite the closeness of her body to mine. “Varrek! Chloe! I need you!”

Moments later, I am covered in hands as I am lifted to my feet. Kaiva’s hands are in my hair as she checks my head wound. The rest are placed on my arms and back, offering support. I take it, leaning heavily on them as they guide me toward the structure Aye-vah referred to as mine.

I am placed on a tall stool next to a long steel table that is covered in food scraps, dust, and various tools. This is mine? This mess belongs to me? Yignnuf would have my head if he knew I was leaving my workspace in such disarray.

I do not have the energy to accept that, however, because my entire existence has just been flipped on its head. “You said she is alive? Truly?”

“Yes, Nalba. Ekoya is alive,” Varrek replies. “And she is queen.”

“But . . . h-how did she survive the virus?” I ask. I cannot make sense of this. “I was told by the healers that she perished. They . . . lied?”

Varrek goes on to tell me how Ekoya developed a condition in the late stages of the virus that made her appear dead, and when she was discovered to be alive, the king saw it as an opportunity to revisit his idea of forcing females to breed in an effort to slowly rebuild the Trovilian race. The virus had decimated it, and this way, he could use females with “pure Trovilian blood” to reproduce under his supervision.

“You say Cruvo saved her?” I ask, astonished. Her mate is a Hexrin, and I have never been fond of him. Or any of the Hexrins. I do not trust their ability to create something out of nothing without the use of data and observations and constant improvements. Real innovation takes time. They do not innovate. They entertain. Nothing more.

“He broke her out of the dungeon, yes. We took down the guards together. Then Ahlvo killed the king,” Varrek says, shooting Aye-vah a thankful grin.

“Then Varrek recommended she take the throne, and a majority vote from the council sealed the deal!” a female with a long brown mane, pale skin, and large brown eyes adds excitedly. She has a soft middle, and curves that cover the rest of her body. Her lips are a deep crimson color, and Varrek continues stealing glances at her.

“You are his mate,” I say, still in a slight daze. This is too much information to receive in the span of one day. It is only morning and already I am exhausted and confused. “I do not remember your name.”

She smiles, exposing her little blunt teeth. “Hi, Nalba, I’m Chloe. I work with you here as your assistant, but I’m also your bestie.”

“Behs-tee?” I repeat slowly. That word is not translating for me.

“Best friend,” Cloh-ee clarifies, her cheeks turning bright pink. She seems slightly nervous, which I suppose is fair since she just had to introduce herself to someone who she considers a friend.

“I see,” I say, looking down at my still-shaking hands. Then I remember why they started shaking in the first place. “Ekoya. Can you contact her? I must see her face.”

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