They got back to the jungle the following night and the whole group was exhausted. But even so, they assembled around the campfire. Zara knew that Solar wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed with her, but he stayed. He knew the importance of his presence on a night like this.
Zara, however, insisted that Javi go to bed. He was too weak still to be burning the midnight oil.
When she got back to the campfire, the Surgere had formed a circle around the fire. There were questions fired at Solar, and he was answering them the best that he could.
“Is Dalyer dead?”
“Why didn’t the army come after us?”
“Will O recover?”
“Is Dalyer dead?”
“Did Zara kill Dalyer?”
Zara felt a pit grow in her stomach. All she wanted to do was shrink into the background, disappear into the jungle, and sleep for a year. But instead she walked to her mate’s side. She sat next to Solar and laced her fingers with his.
Solar squeezed her hand and cleared his throat. “I don’t know if Dalyer is dead. Zara damn near killed him with her fire. Our fire.” He turned and searched her eyes for a second. “But if he’s not dead, the fact that his army didn’t attack us is a good thing. It means that they are still following his orders, not their own righteous ideals about us. They didn’t strike us down simply because we’re the Surgere. They waited for orders that didn’t come. Hopefully because Dalyer is dead. But we won’t know. Not until he gives us some sign.”
“Power like his doesn’t like to stay dormant,” Zara said, and the attention of the group transferred to her. “Trust me. If he’s alive we’ll know it soon enough. Being thought to be dead is too much like impotence for Dalyer to stomach.”
The conversation around the fire swelled then, the Surgere discussing everything that had just happened. The future. The battle. The battles to come.
When the last few stragglers around the campfire dragged themselves off to bed around daybreak, Solar and Zara finally felt that they could, too. They held hands as they picked their way through the jungle. Feeling equal amounts of relief once they’d closed themselves in their little hut. They undressed and immediately climbed into bed, clutching each other, even in the raw heat of the jungle.
“I can’t stop seeing it,” Zara eventually whispered into the darkness. “His jaws on your neck.”
“I can’t stop seeing your fire,” Solar said, turning to face her in the bed.
Zara squeezed her eyes shut. “I can’t believe I did that. Solar, what does it mean?”
She opened her eyes and stared into him, her heart racing.
“You know what it means, Zara.” He gripped her hands. His eyes were gems in the dark. “You know that it means that we’re true mates. Fated. Perfect. Unbreakable.”
Her eyes filled with tears as she clutched her true mate to her breast. She already knew that, of course, but it was the fire that confused her. “But Solar, if there was fire, doesn’t it mean, doesn’t it mean...” Zara couldn’t finish. Instead she pressed the flat of her hand over her stomach.
Solar’s hand met hers there. “Yes,” he said. And for the first time in days, a smile broke out over his face. Zara could have wept with the joy of it. “Yes. We’re true mates in the real sense, Zara. We’ve mated. We’re going to have a hatchling.”
His lips found hers in the dark and Zara clutched her belly. Her family was there.
Solar’s hands stroked along her body. “I’m going to love you forever, Zara. Until the day I die.”
His words were right, but she could feel the uncertainty uncoil within him. Something was wrong. “Solar, what is it?”
He pushed himself up from the bed and paced in front of her. “I have to tell you something. And you might hate me for it.”
She almost laughed out loud. Hate Solar? Not possible.
“A few years ago, I asked O for a prophecy. He gave me one. It wasn’t good.”
Zara felt her stomach drop out. “What did it say?” Her voice was a whisper in the dark.
Solar recited from memory. “Thirty summers before your life as you knew it sunsets. Your image will be your legacy.”
A tense silence passed between them before Zara burst out laughing.
“Hey!” Solar growled. “What are you laughing at?”
“You think it’s saying you’re gonna die?”
“Of course, how many ways are there to interpret that? I’m going to die when I’m thirty, which is pretty fucking close, I might add. And the symbol of my leadership in the Surgere will be my legacy.”
Zara wiped her eyes and reached out for her mate. “Or, ‘sunsets’ doesn’t mean that you’ll die, it means that a certain part of your life will be over. Perhaps the part where you don’t have a child? And then you’ll have one, your spitting image perhaps? One who will be your legacy?”