Chapter 126

Veylan was already disappearing around the corner of the house, Niku still cradled against his chest, his tail the last thing visible before he vanished from sight.

Eryx stared after him, his mouth slightly open. "Was that progress?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"No," I said quickly, firmly.

"Possibly," Soryn answered at the same time.

Eryx’s face transformed, a smile breaking through the clouds of doubt like sunlight.

I pointed my needle at him. "Do not get excited."

He immediately stopped smiling, but the light remained in his eyes.

Poor man. He had no idea what he was in for.

The afternoon had settled into a comfortable rhythm when Reona arrived.

Unlike her son, she apparently believed doors were suggestions rather than barriers. Her voice reached us before she did, a bright, carrying sound that filled the space with energy.

"Krys! Where are you hiding?"

Then she swept into the house like a small storm, a basket balanced on one hip, her one month old daughter Aria sleeping peacefully against her chest. The tiny tiger cub was completely unaware that her mother entered every room as though conquering new territory, all noise and motion and irresistible life. Trotting behind her with slightly more coordination but equally little awareness came Aro, her son, his black and black stripes still showing the soft fuzz of youth. He paused when he saw me, his tail giving a hesitant wag, then yawned widely enough to show tiny, needle sharp teeth before padding over to rub against my knee.

"Aria, Aro, and I brought gifts," Reona announced.

I reached down to scratch the cub behind his ears.

Aro leaned into my touch with a rumbling purr, then spotted Aureon and immediately bounded toward his older brother with unsteady enthusiasm.

Aureon set down his baskets to crouch and receive the cub, who immediately began climbing him like a tree trunk, paws scrambling for purchase against his tunic. Aureon laughed and scooped up Aro, looking utterly ridiculous and completely content.

"Why am I still carrying everything?" he complained, though his grin belied the words.

"Because you have arms," Reona replied without turning.

"So do you."

"I am carrying your sister."

"You have another arm."

Reona stopped. Slowly, deliberately, she turned to face her son.

Aureon’s ears flattened against his head. Aro nipped at one of them playfully. "That sounded better before I said it," Aureon admitted.

"It did not," Reona said flatly.

Aro made a sound between a mew and a growl, delighted by the chaos, and suddenly everyone was smiling.

I laughed, setting aside my sewing entirely. Aureon dropped the baskets near the wall with a thump and immediately crossed to where Soryn guarded his eggs. He crouched down, examining the leathery ovals with genuine curiosity.

"Still seven?" he asked.

Soryn stared at him with flat, unimpressed eyes. "They will not multiply."

Aureon held up his hands in surrender. "Just checking."

"They are eggs, not rabbits."

"I am leaving."

He backed away, and Reona took the opportunity to deposit her sleeping daughter into his arms who quickly nestled with Aro. Aureon’s entire demeanor changed instantly, the teasing father vanishing, replaced by the protective older brother. He cradled his sister and brother against his chest as though they had been carved from glass, his expression softening into something almost reverent.

Reona surveyed the room, her sharp gaze taking in everything, the children playing in the yard, the various mates engaged in their activities, the general atmosphere of domestic chaos. Her face brightened with an idea.

"Let me take them," she said.

I blinked. "Take who were?"

"The children. To the southern meadow."

Every muscle in my body tightened. It happened before I could stop it, before I could school my expression into neutrality, a visceral, physical reaction to the word "outside." My hands froze on my fabric, my breath catching in my throat.

Reona noticed. Of course she noticed. Her smile softened, losing its brightness, becoming something gentler. More understanding.

"There is a large field near our home," she explained. "Tiger cubs play there every day. It is safe, Krys. Open space where they can run, climb, be children."

My eyes moved automatically toward the doorway. Outside. The houses. The paths. The people. The strangers. The traitor.

We still did not know who it was. Someone inside this tribe, someone who walked these paths, who smiled at us in passing, who might be watching right now, had helped enemies attack us. Someone had organized an ambush. Someone had tried to sabotage the alliance before it even began.

And Reona wanted to take my children out there. Into that uncertainty.

I trusted her. I did. Reona had been nothing but kind, nothing but welcoming. She was Aureon’s mother, which made her my children’s grandmother in every way that mattered. Aurin had given us the best land he had, had treated every one of my children as though they were already family.

But trust and fear were different creatures entirely. Fear did not care about logic or evidence. Fear whispered possibilities, worst case scenarios, endless variations of loss.

What if someone followed them? What if the traitor knew which children were mine? What if someone used them to get to Aureon, to me, to Aurin himself?

My fingers tightened around the fabric in my lap until my knuckles turned white.

Reona noticed. "You do not have to say yes," she said gently. "I understand."

"It is not you," I said quickly. "I trust you."

"I know."

"I just..." My gaze went toward the yard, where Atlas and Jasper were wrestling in the grass, where Chase had somehow convinced several Tiger cubs to participate in a game involving sticks and what looked like a truly impressive amount of mud. "They have already been through so much," I whispered.

Reona moved to sit beside me, her presence warm and solid. When she spoke, all teasing had vanished from her voice, replaced by something deeper. Understanding born of experience.

"I spent years fearing what might happen to Aureon as he was growing up," she continued, her voice dropping to match mine. "Even after he became of age that fear never really went away, that fear did not simply disappear. It changed shape. Became something else."

Her fingers brushed the sleeping cub in Aureon’s arms, a gesture of fierce maternal protection. "Fear is a parasite, Krys. It feeds on uncertainty. But you cannot let it consume everything."

I swallowed hard. "I do not want my children to live afraid because I am afraid."

"Then do not force yourself to choose between freedom and safety," she said. "Find another way."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

Reona smiled, and there was mischief in it now. "Send one of their fathers."

As if summoned by the suggestion, Aureon looked up from his sister. "What?"

I stared at him. He stared back, confused. Then slowly, his gaze moved toward the yard filled with children, toward Reona’s expectant expression, and understanding dawned.

"No," he said immediately.

Reona’s smile became sweet. Dangerously sweet. "My son."

"No."

"You love your siblings."

"I do."

"And your children."

"Very much."

"And me."

Aureon narrowed his eyes. "This feels like a trap."

"You should spend the afternoon with us," she continued, ignoring his suspicion. "Get out of this house. Breathe fresh air."

"It is a trap," he said, looking at me for support.

I laughed, but when I looked at Aureon, I saw him see my expression. The humor vanished from his face, replaced by seriousness. For all his foolishness, all his constant teasing, Aureon could become serious in an instant when I needed him to. It was one of the things I loved most about him.

He carefully returned his sister to Reona’s arms and crossed to crouch before me, his golden eyes meeting mine.

"I will go," he said softly.

"You do not have to," I said, though my voice wavered.

"I want to." He took my hands in his. "I will stay with them the entire time. Every second."

I nodded, the fear still tight in my chest but loosening slightly. "No wandering."

"None."

"No letting Jasper convince you to climb anything dangerous."

Aureon looked offended. "He does not have to convince me. I make my own poor decisions."

I stared at him.

"Right," he amended. "No climbing."

"Watch Atlas near the trees. He will try to scale anything vertical."

"I will."

"Ryder will follow anyone with a weapon. Do not let him near the training grounds."

"I know."

"Chase gets distracted by literally anything. Butterflies. Shiny rocks. His own thoughts."

"I know."

"And if you see anyone you do not recognize..."

"I bring everyone straight home," he finished, his voice firm. No joking now. No teasing. He understood the weight of what I was asking. "I swear it, Krys. On my life."

I reached forward and touched his cheek, feeling the warmth of him, the solid reality of his presence. "Thank you," I whispered.

He turned his head and pressed a kiss to my palm. "They are my cubs too," he said simply.

Something warm moved through my chest, loosening the fear a little more. I knew that. But hearing it still mattered. It always would.

Reona rose, her expression bright again. "I will guard them with my life," she promised. "Every single one."

"I know," I said. And I did.

That knowledge, that trust, was what finally allowed me to breathe.

Gathering the children took considerably longer than expected. Atlas wanted his specific stick, which had apparently achieved sacred status. Jasper wanted a different stick because Atlas’s was "too good" and he wanted one equally good. Chase refused to leave without his collection of "lucky rocks," which turned out to be seventeen ordinary stones he had found in the yard. Ryder wanted Leon to come. Levy decided she did not want anyone touching her except me and clung to my leg with the determination of a small barnacle.

The cheetah cubs scattered the moment they realized everyone was leaving, leading to a brief chase that ended with Aureon standing in the middle of the yard with one child under each arm and another hanging from his tail.

"I changed my mind!" he called out. "This was a terrible idea!"

"No refunds!" I called back, laughing despite the anxiety still fluttering in my chest.

"You made too many!"

"Our children," I reminded him.

"At this moment, they feel like your children!"

Leon laughed so hard he had to sit down, tears streaming from his eyes.

Eventually, somehow, Reona and Aureon managed to herd everyone toward the southern meadow. I stood at the edge of our property watching them leave, my hand raised in farewell.

Aureon looked back one final time. He raised his hand, pressed it to his heart, then pointed toward me, a silent promise. I have got them. They are safe.

I raised my hand in return.

Then they disappeared between the houses, and my stomach tightened with the sudden absence.

Soryn came up behind me, his arms slipping around my waist, his chin resting against my head. "They are safe," he murmured.

"I know."

"You are still worried."

"Yes."

"Do you want Aureon to bring them back?"

I considered it. For one selfish second, I wanted every child inside, every mate within sight, every door closed and locked. I wanted to build walls and never leave.

But that was not living. That was surviving, and we had done enough of that.

"No," I said finally. "They need to play. They need to be children."

"They do," Soryn agreed.

"And Reona will guard them."

"She will."

"And Aureon would tear apart the entire Tiger Tribe before allowing someone to touch them."

I laughed softly, the sound mixing with a sigh. "That was strangely comforting."

"It was intended to be."

We remained there for another moment, watching the empty path where they had disappeared. Then I turned back toward the house, ready to return to my sewing.

I stopped.

Veylan stood near the tree where Eryx had approached him earlier. Something was in his hand, a small wooden cup I recognized. Eryx had brought it with him, had been carrying it when he arrived.

Veylan looked down at it for several long seconds, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he raised it to his lips and drank.

I smiled.

He caught me watching. His eyes narrowed, sharp and knowing.

I immediately turned away, feigning innocence. "I saw nothing."

"You are terrible at lying," he called out.

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

Behind me came a quiet growl, frustrated, embarrassed, but not entirely angry.

When I glanced back a few seconds later, Veylan was still holding the cup. And he had not thrown it away. Had not crushed it. Had not tossed it into the bushes as a final rejection.

He was drinking from it, slowly, as though considering the taste of something he had not expected to find palatable.

Maybe Eryx’s attempt had not failed completely after all.

Maybe, just maybe, there was hope for them yet.

I picked up my needle and my finished pillow, and I kept sewing. Because life continued. Because fear could not be allowed to win.

Not today. Not ever.