Page 115 of The Huntmaster

"Use this time," I said quietly, the iron in my voice shifting into something deeper, grounded in ancient law. "Use this time to be one with the Alu'un again. Remember who you are. Remember where you came from, because you have lost your way."

Vahn grunted in sheer frustration, looking away, his jaw grinding as he swallowed the angry retort. He knew better than to push me past the brink.

He stared at the wooden planks beneath his bare feet for a long moment before looking back up, confusion flickering across his scarred face. "Why no public declaration? Why are you not gathering the tribe to announce my banishment to the camp?"

A faint, bitter curve touched my mouth as I thought of the human female currently tending to our wounded below.

"My mate has managed to soften me in more ways than I care to admit," I admitted gruffly. "And after these three sun-cycles are over, our people do not need to be left carrying seeds of mistrust or disharmony. I want peace for my clan, Vahn. If that means keeping the full truth of your treason between us and letting them believe you are on an extended scout patrol... then so be it."

Vahn stared at me, visibly struck by the restraint—and the hidden mercy—in my decision.

"Pack what you need," I ordered, turning my back on him. "Be ready to leave by nightfall. Slip under the shadows without the others knowing. If you are still within our borders when the twin suns rise tomorrow... I will hunt you down myself."

I turned on my heel and walked away, not waiting to see the anger or regret settle on Vahn’s face. My bare feet carried me soundlessly over the worn timber walkways, the heavy tension in my shoulders slowly unravelling as I put distance between myself and the traitor.

As I descended into the lower roots, the sharp smells of ozone and ash gave way to the earthy, grounding scent of damp soil and crushed medicinal leaves.

The chaos around the healing pavilions had begun to settle into a hushed, steady rhythm. Vanguard warriors helped haul supplies, and freed Vakra captives sat together in small groups, sipping warm broths offered by the tribe’s women.

And in the centre of it all was Lyra.

She was kneeling on the wooden decking beside a young Vakra child, gently pressing a damp cloth to a shallow scrape on the girl's shoulder. Her hair was tangled, her clothes were stained with soot and soil, and the mark at her throat thrummed with a faint, soft light that mirrored the steady rhythm of my own hearts.

She looked exhausted—her shoulders bowed under the weight of everything we had survived—yet she smiled gently at the child, whispering soft, comforting words that needed no translation.

My bond flared, pouring a thick wave of tenderness and possessive relief straight into my chest.

As if feeling the sudden shift in my blood, Lyra’s head snapped up. Her dark eyes locked onto mine across the clearing. The tension in her small frame visibly melted. She handed the cloth to a nearby healer, said a quick word to the girl, and stood up, waiting for me as I crossed the remaining distance.

"Is it done?" she asked quietly as I stopped in front of her. Her eyes searched my face, looking for the blood she half-expected to find.

"It is done," I murmured, reaching out to wrap my arm around her waist and pulled her flush against my side. The sheer relief of having her body pressed against mine almost made my knees weak. "He is banished. Three sun-cycles in the wild to remember his place and his oaths to the Alu'un."

Lyra let out a quiet exhale, resting her head against my chest for a fleeting second. "No bloodshed?"

"No bloodshed," I confirmed. The tension she'd been carrying since I'd walked away finally eased from her shoulders, and she let out a breath she had clearly been holding. I dipped my head and pressed my lips against the top of her hair, inhaling the sweet, wild scent of her skin. "Elder Valra intercepted me before I could take his head. She... stayed my blade."

Lyra tilted her face up, a faint, knowing smirk touching her lips despite her fatigue. "Let me guess. She told you not to let your wrath blind you?"

"Something like that," I grumbled softly, though no real heat behind it. "She spoke of threads yet to unravel, and the sky answering for what happened below. But more than that... she reminded me of the mercy you showed Mara." I tightened my grip on her hip. "It seems my mate's gentle nature is catching up to me."

"Don't worry," Lyra teased softly, her hand coming up to rest over my hearts, feeling the powerful, steady double-thump beneath my ribs. "Your reputation as the lethal Huntmaster is completely safe."

Her smile faded slightly, her eyes turning toward the shaded archway of the main medical pavilion where Sora and Tyler remained by Toren's side. "Have you checked on Toren again?"

"The healers are doing everything they can, little star," I said gently, covering her hand with my own. "His body is strong, and his spirit is stubborn. Now... you have spent enough of your breath on others today."

Before she could protest, I slid my other arm beneath her knees and lifted her cleanly into my arms.

"Kaelen!" Lyra gasped, her hands instinctively clutching my shoulders, a sudden flush of colour rising to her cheeks. "Put me down, people are watching!"

"Let them watch," I growled playfully, turning my back on the busy clearing and carrying her toward the winding stairways leading up to our hut. "Their Huntmaster is taking his mate home. And this time, the door stays locked."

Chapter 72

Lyra

The soft, ambient glow of the Nest’s bioluminescent moss filtered through the heavy leather drapes of our quarters, casting long, amber shadows across the dark timber floor. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the air didn't reek of copper, ozone, or burning ash. It just smelled like home. Like crushed pine, dry earth, and Kaelen.