once more, but they had taken much from her as well. And Tavar had allowed it.
“Come to the Golden City with me,” Erin whispered, her voice firm. “You do not have to stay here. You do not have to stay with him.”
A long, sharp breath escaped Kossira. She pulled her hand away from Erin’s grip and then stood to her full height.
“I am Mevirax,” Kossira said, her voice wavering slightly. “My place is with him. I have accepted it.”
Erin heard the certainty in her voice, a certainty that Erin didn’t think she would ever understand.
They held one another’s gaze for another moment. Then Kossira left. She was gone, but her words hung heavy in the air.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“My luxiva gave birth to our son shortly after you took the females from the Golden City,” Vaxa’an told him quietly.
A sharp breath whistled through Jaxor’s nostrils and he stopped his pacing of the command center’s quarters he’d been living in.
“We went to the Lallarix,” Vaxa’an murmured, “where our own mother brought us into this world. There, my Kat brought our son into the world. Your blood too.”
It had been seven spans since Jaxor had arrived at the command center. Seven spans since meeting Vaxa’an again, face to face, for the first time in ten rotations. Seven frustrating, agonizing spans of planning, of distrustful looks and comments from the council and the Ambassadors when they finally arrived from the outposts. Seven spans of dread and worry for Erin, of feeling powerless to protect her, to help her.
Yet, in those seven spans, this was the first mention that Vaxa’an had a son.
“Rebax?” Jaxor asked quietly, looking across the room at his brother.
“I would like you to give Kollasor’s blessing to my son,” Vaxa’an said. “I have spoken with Kat about it—”
“Nix,” Jaxor rasped, his hands suddenly trembling. Grief and anger and every emotion that he’d felt over the course of the last lunar cycle washed over him—even elation and joy. They mingled together until Jaxor couldn’t breathe. “Nix. You know I cannot.”
Vaxa’an frowned. He pushed away from the wall where he was standing, grasped Jaxor’s forearm to feel their sibling blood bond more fully. Vaxa’an stiffened at what he found in Jaxor’s mind and released him.
It was just the two of them. They were on a meal break from the war room, from their planning and re-planning, but Jaxor hadn’t any appetite the last week. Every time he went into the war room, he saw a map of the Mevirax base at the Caves of Pevrallix. He’d given Kirov every detail, to the last hidden tunnel and passageway winding through it, and it reflected back at him, a floating map, outlined perfectly by crisp streams of blue light. It looked so real that Jaxor could almost envision walking the stone corridors.
And whenever he looked at the lower quadrant of the map, he could almost feel the way the darkness of the dungeon pressed against his chest. He’d always forced himself to look away, but he knew that was where Tavar kept Erin. Remembering every moment spent there, knowing that Erin experienced that darkness too, made him feel enraged and helpless.
“You are my blood,” Vaxa’an said, catching his gaze. “I want you to bless my son.”
“After everything that I have done,” Jaxor said, his voice ragged, torn, “you still want me to give the blessing? You should not want me close to your son!”
Vaxa’an growled, taking him by the shoulders. They were the same height now, but Jaxor sometimes still felt like the little brother, craning his neck back to lock eyes with him, like he’d done when he’d been young.
“Enough,” Vaxa’an hissed. “I have forgiven you and you know this.”
“Nix.”
“You do not want my forgiveness?” Vaxa’an asked, his voice hard. He shook Jaxor’s shoulders. “Is that what it is?”
Jaxor had hated himself for so long, hated the decisions he’d made, hated the lives he’d affected.
“You want my hatred too?” Vaxa’an asked, feeling the emotions coursing through his body. “You wish I hated you instead of loved you?”
“Tev,” Jaxor admitted softly. “I wish that.”
“Do you hate me then, brother?” Vaxa’an asked, still, his claws gripping Jaxor’s shoulders tight.
“Rebax?” Jaxor rasped, brow furrowing. “Nix. Of course not.”
“Have you ever hated me?”
Jaxor paused. He could see himself in Vaxa’an’s eyes.
“It was not hate,” he finally said. “It was envy. It was grief for our parents. It was feeling so powerless, when all our lives we were raised to be strong. I do not know what to call that,