Krane looked much better than he had when they stumbled into our village in the dead of night, broken and bleeding and half-dead from their ordeal. The morning light revealed a male who, despite the bruises that painted his skin in shades of purple and green, despite the careful stitches that held his wounds closed, carried himself with a certain bearing that spoke of strength not entirely diminished. He was bruised up, yes, but anyone with eyes could tell Alara had done good by him; had kept him alive through sheer force of will and desperate flight, had protected him even when her own safety demanded she flee alone.
He was a handsome guy, I had to admit, rising from the pallet where he sat taking broth with careful, measured sips. His features were sharp and angular in that way that photographed well, with high cheekbones and a proud nose that looked like it had been broken at least once; probably in some fight or flight gone wrong. His hair, now that someone had washed the blood out, fell in messy black waves around his face, catching the morning light with a blue-black sheen that reminded me of raven feathers. Not more handsome than my mates, of course; that would be impossible, but good looking enough that I could understand why Alara had chosen him instead of the ignorant Aleric who is now dead, why she had carried him through enemy territory rather than leave him to die.
I contemplated what Alara had told me in the dark hours before dawn, turning the words over in my mind like stones, feeling their weight and their sharp edges. Rina was now a heretic in truth as well as in spirit, her actions marking her as an enemy not just of our tribe but of the fundamental order that governed beast society. They were not following the beast gods’ way where women were respected, where bonds were sacred, where choice was the foundation of all mating. She allowed her mate to take females at will, bonded be damned, treating them as prizes to be claimed rather than partners to be courted. She had killed Aleric, her own chief, because he must have disagreed with her, because he stood between her and her ambition. And clipping the hawk tribe’s wings; the cruelty of it took my breath away even now, hours after hearing it. To take their flight, their identity, their freedom in such a brutal, permanent way.
But to get her way, Rina would do anything. I had learned that lesson myself since coming to this tribe I now call my own. She was not bound by conscience or tradition or mercy. She was bound only by her desire for power, for vengeance, for control.
I was watching my mates train when Alara came out to find me.
They had moved their practice to the clearing near our home, six powerful males moving through combat forms with a grace that belied their deadliness. Ravin led them, his golden hair gleaming in the sun, his muscles rippling as he demonstrated a defensive stance that Leon then countered. Veylan moved with economical precision, every motion calculated, while Caelion relied on graceful strength, his laughter booming as he caught Aureon off guard. Soryn watched from the periphery, his serpent eyes tracking patterns and weaknesses, offering corrections in his soft, husky voice. They were magnificent, these males who had chosen me, who fought now to protect what we had built together.
"Hey," her voice said, coming out softly behind me.
I turned to find Alara standing in the doorway of our home, her arm bound in fresh linen, her face pale but composed. She had washed the blood from her hair, and someone; probably Leon, had found her clean clothing to replace the rags she had arrived in. She looked small and lost, nothing like the confident female I had known in the hawk tribe.
"Alara," I said gently, patting the ground beside me. "Come. Come sit down."
She hesitated, her eyes flicking to the training males, to the woods beyond, to anywhere but me. Then she seemed to gather herself and crossed the space between us, lowering herself onto the grass with a wince as her injuries protested the movement. She sat next to me, her eyes averting from mine, staring at her hands where they twisted in her lap. She paused briefly, gathering her courage, then she looked at me, her dark eyes swimming with unshed tears.
"Thank you again," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "If it were not for you, my Krane would have died. I know it. I saw the wound. I saw how much blood he lost. He would have died before we reached another village, before we found another healer."
"It was no worry," I told her firmly, reaching out to cover her restless hands with my own. "You are my friend. If I do not help a friend in need, who would I help? What kind of beast woman would I be?"
"Still," Alara insisted, her lip trembling. "I appreciate it. And I know Krane appreciates it too. He told me, before he fell asleep again, that he owes you his life. That we both do."
"Please do not worry," I told her, squeezing her fingers gently. "You are safe here. Both of you. Focus on healing. Focus on getting strong again. We will handle the rest."
She nodded, though I could see the fear still lived in her, would probably live in her for the rest of her days. Some wounds did not heal with stitches and herbs.
I looked back at my handsome beast mates, watching them train with renewed intensity now that they knew what was coming. They moved with purpose, with deadly grace, preparing their bodies and their minds for the war that Rina would bring to our doorstep. And despite everything; the fear, the uncertainty, the weight of responsibility, I found myself enjoying the sight of them, the sheer physical beauty of their movements, the dedication in their expressions, the love that bound us all together.
We would face what was coming. We would fight. And we would protect not just our own, but those like Alara and Krane who had nowhere else to turn.
That was what it meant to be family. That was what it meant to be strong.
---
After watching my mates train, their bodies moving in perfect synchronization as they practiced defensive formations, I turned to Alara. She sat beside me on the stone bench, her eyes following the movements of the warriors with a distant, haunted expression. She was my friend, I realized, not merely an ally or a refugee, but someone who had once saved me. I believed I could trust her with my power, with the secret that could destroy me if it fell into the wrong hands.
"Alara," I said softly, waiting until she turned to face me. "There is something I need to tell you, but I need you to promise me that you will never tell a soul. Not anyone."
Alara’s eyes widened slightly, but she did not hesitate. "Of course, Krys. You saved my life, and my mate’s. I knew I liked you the moment we met, that time when Aleric had captured you and you still showed him stubbornness and fearlessness." She reached out and took my hand, her fingers warm and calloused. "But if it is hard, if it burdens you, you do not need to tell me. I would not have you carry more weight for my sake."
I sighed, feeling the tension drain from my shoulders. She truly was a friend. Others would have tried to persuade me, would have used guilt or curiosity to pry open my secrets. But Alara simply offered me the choice, the space to remain silent if I needed to.
"I can heal you," I said, the words coming out in a rush before I could second-guess myself. "As if you have no injuries at all. I can fully heal both you and Krane, not just the stitches and the surface wounds, but everything. The damage inside, the pain, the weakness. All of it."
Alara stared at me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she laughed, a bright, genuine sound that seemed out of place in the grim morning. "Oh, Krys," she said, wiping at her eyes. "Thank you for making me laugh during this time. I needed that."
She did not believe me. I could see it in the way she patted my hand, as if comforting me for a delusion or a joke taken too far. But I had not come this far, had not risked everything, to be dismissed.
"Watch," I said, and reached for the blue binds.
The power came at my call, rushing to my fingertips like water through a breached dam. But this time I did not hide it, did not cup my hands around the glow but I did keep it dim. I let Alara see the blue light that enveloped my palms, ethereal and otherworldly, humming with the energy of life itself. I placed my hands on her injured arm, where the slash mark still wept slightly beneath its bandages, and I pushed the healing into her.
The effect was immediate. The wound closed before our eyes, the flesh knitting together seamlessly, the bruising fading from purple to yellow to nothing. The weakness in her wing, the stiffness in her shoulder, all of it melted away beneath the blue light until she moved her arm freely, without pain, without restriction.
Alara looked at me incredulously, her mouth falling open, her eyes darting between my face and her healed arm. "How..." she whispered, touching the place where the wound had been, finding only smooth, unblemished skin. "How is this possible?"
I went inside without answering, moving to where Krane lay on his pallet of furs. He stirred as I approached, his dark eyes confused but trusting. I placed my hands on his chest, over the wound that had nearly killed him, and I let the blue binds flow. The stitches dissolved into nothingness, the internal damage I had only partially mended now fully healed, his strength restored, his breathing deep and strong.
When I emerged, Alara was waiting, her whole body trembling, her face a mask of awe and terror.
"How?" she asked again, her voice barely audible. "What are you?"
"I have this power," I said, sitting beside her again, feeling the exhaustion that always followed a full healing. "But if anyone finds out, if they try to use me, I could die. Or worse, I could be used for evil, forced to heal those who do not deserve it, to sustain armies or tyrants." I looked her in the eyes, letting her see the fear I carried daily. "I trust you, Alara. You are my friend. And I just want to heal my friend."
For a long moment, she said nothing. Then she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around me, holding me so tightly I could barely breathe. "Thank you," she whispered against my hair, her voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for believing in me. For trusting me with this."
She pulled back, her hands gripping my shoulders, her eyes fierce and bright. "I promise," she said, her voice steady and strong. "I promise I will keep your secret. And I promise I will protect you as well. You have my loyalty, Krys, for as long as I live. You healed my mate. You gave him back to me. I would die before I betrayed you."
I smiled, feeling the warmth of genuine friendship spread through my chest, a warmth that had nothing to do with the blue binds and everything to do with the bond we had forged in fire and blood. "I know," I said softly. "I trust you, Alara. Now let us figure out how to stop Rina, together."
I needed to tell Layla and Rhonda too, I realized, the thought settling into my bones with sudden certainty. This was the time to trust my friends, and I knew those two would never betray me. They had stood by me when others turned away, had fought for my children, had offered their homes and their hearts without asking for anything in return.
I hoped they would forgive me for keeping it from them, for being afraid when I should have been brave. We could not face what was coming divided, keeping secrets from those who should stand with us. We had to unite. All of us. Or Rina would pick us off one by one, using our fear and our isolation against us.
Alara must have seen something in my expression, because she squeezed my hand gently. "You are planning something," she observed.
I smiled, feeling the weight of the secrets I had carried for so long beginning to lift, replaced by something lighter, something stronger. Hope, perhaps. Or the beginning of an alliance that might actually stand against the darkness gathering at our borders. "Just thinking about the future," I said softly. "And who I want standing beside me when it arrives."
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