"There is a scent in this tent. A cold scent that does not belong to the land."
I swallowed hard. Here we go.
"Damar... you rember that one week promise I made to you guys?" I started, stepping closer to him. "The one about taking Thalor as my mate."
I watched his body turn rigid and his face began to harden.
"Right. I’ll tell you that I didn’t hurry to take him as my mate after the one week ended," I said, walking towards him. "I missed you too much and decided to get busy, so I made him wait as well."
"Ari," he called as I reached my hand towards his, interlocking out fingers. "It happened, didn’t it?"
His voice sounded strained, hard and a mix of sothing bitter.
"Yeah," I answered, my voice coming out in a faint whisper. "I took Thalor as my mate,"
I felt the air in the tent grow heavy, as if the oxygen was being sucked out of the room.
Damar didn’t pull his hand away from mine, but his grip hardened—not hurting , but locking us together in a way that felt desperate.
He looked directly into my eyes, and I saw the raw, jagged hurt he’d been carrying across the mountain passes. He hadn’t been surprised—he’d probably spent every night under the stars counting down the days of that one-week promise, until the day the fish wrapped his arms around .
And so, he knew exactly what he’d find when he returned.
"I see," he whispered, his voice cracking. He didn’t ask anything further and just let out a sharp exhale that sounded like a wounded animal.
He looked down at our interlocked fingers, his thumb brushing over my knuckles with a repetitive motion.
He was calm, but I could feel the rapid beating of his pulse from his hand and the hurt in his eyes.
He wasn’t shocked, yes, but the reality of the scent cut deeper than the anticipation ever had.
"I told myself I could bear it," he murmured, his other hand wrapping around my waist and pulling so close I could feel the frantic, heavy thrum of his heart. "That as long as I was the one you called ’husband’ first... it wouldn’t matter. But the scent... it is everywhere, Ari."
"Damar," I breathed, stepping into his space until my chest was pressed against his.
I reached up, cupping his face, forcing him to look at . The hurt was so raw there that it made feel like I had betrayed him sohow.
I pursed my lips.
"That fish," he continued, the hurt in his eyes turning into an irritated snare as he turned his face away. "He is very crafty,"
"He didn’t entice . He didn’t use a song. He’s been working hard just to make a lasting contribution and show he’s serious," I explained. "And it probably looks like I’m defending him but well, that’s it. I’m defending him because he’s worked just as hard to gain my recognition. And for the past few days, he... He’s been helping take care of the babies while I built these walls."
I felt like I was talking to a brick wall and my words were bouncing off, not penetrating one bit.
"He even stayed in the palace today because he didn’t want to ruin your hocoming." I added quietly. "He’s not as bad as you think, Damar,"
My efforts to make Damar like him were futile because this only made it look like I was taking his side.
Damar’s erald eyes shimred with a bitter light. He wasn’t the type to throw a tantrum, but the silent, cold fury radiating off him was enough to make the temperature in the tent drop.
"He is wise to stay away. If I see him near Lyra..."
"He has been a father to her while you were gone, Damar," I said gently, though I knew I was stepping on a landmine and I could see it from how Damar gritted his teeth. "He protected her. He held her when she cried. He fed her. He respects you—even if you’re not exactly friendly with him."
Damar closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against mine. He looked so tired. Not just from the journey, but from the ntal weight of sharing the woman he worshipped.
"I cannot be mad at you," he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, possessive rumble. "I could never be mad at you, Ari. But do not ask to like him. Do not ask to welco him."
He pulled back slightly, his gaze dropping to my ankle, sensing the mark even through my boots.
"He marked you."
"He did," I admitted, my voice steady. "But Damar... Thalor gave a gift. And it’s a way for to finally mark you. It’s a permanent bond."
That got his attention. His pupils dilated, the slits thinning to needles.
"A permanent mark? For ?"
"For all of you," I whispered. "But it has its downside so I haven’t been able to try it out. Still, I’ll be able to mark you. And since you’re back, you’ll be the first."
The bitterness in his expression didn’t vanish, but it softened into sothing like awe.
The idea of being permanently claid by —of having a mark that wouldn’t wash away or heal—was the ultimate prize for Damar.
"Ari, you can... finally leave your mark on ?" he repeated, his voice dropping to a low, possessive rumble.
"Yes, Damar. I can finally mark you." I said, a little relief in my tone.
He didn’t say anything for a long mont, just held in the silence of the tent while our children slept.
Then, he looked toward the tent flap where the orange glow of the feast fires was starting to bleed through.
"He is out there, isn’t he? The fish."
"He’s in the palace, working on the pipes. He... he didn’t want to intrude."
Damar’s lip curled into a tiny, almost imperceptible smirk.
"Good. Let him stay there. Tonight, Ari... tonight I want to have you to myself,"
"But the feast..."
He suddenly picked up, tucking against his chest with a strength that told he was anything but tired right now.
"The feast can wait. I have been in the wild for two months, and I want to hold you in my arms again Ari." he looked into my eyes. "Allow to claim you once again,"
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