Stretches of stone between square structures. Enormous pots of exotic flowering plants.

Tristan paced the courtyard, noting every detail as if preserving it to draw later. It was a habit he’d picked up long before Nyarlea—taking mental snapshots of people and places he wanted to sketch. It doubled up as a good distraction from stress and hunger on the days he only managed to scrap together enough for a couple of candy bars.

But, this time… this time it was so much harder to deflect the thoughts that plagued him.

Mosaics built into the smooth ground. Sweeping designs, powerful dragons, licks of fire.

Destiny’s soft knock at the door.

Ara’s gentle smile as she sleeps.

Pawm trees, woven furniture, curved pool.

Matt’s… Dammit!

Tristan furiously shook his head. It wasn’t just his feelings for Matt that bound his chest so tightly that he could hardly breathe. He loved Destiny and Ara—the former he’d known for years; the latter was realized during their expedition through Shi Island. And he could never say it out loud. Not to either of them.

Nyarlea would never allow it. Nor would Tristan ever put them in a position that called for rehabilitation.

Cabanas, sheer red curtains, dragon-embroidered cushions.

“Tristan?” Zahra’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

He paused halfway around the enormous pool and looked up. Zahra padded down the stairs, shading her face with one hand as she peered across the water.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

Tristan offered a half-hearted smile but felt it falter. Not really. “Yeah, I think so.”

Zahra frowned, then jogged around the painstakingly detailed tiled edge of the pool. Tristan sped his walk, meeting her halfway.

“I did not know there was a courtyard like this,” Zahra murmured, gaze darting to the lush cabanas and what appeared to be a portable bar.

“Everything about the late king was overly extravagant, it seems,” Tristan replied. Back on Earth, the courtyard would have easily passed as a resort pool. It felt very… modern. “We should invite the Shells to a pool party.”

“They wouldn’t all fit in here,” Zahra laughed. “Maybe the oasis would be a better choice.”

Tristan nodded and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t think Naeemah would appreciate all the sudden company anyway.”

“I believe Lady Naeemah would find a way to make it work. She resolves conflicts faster and more efficiently than anyone I have ever met.” Zahra fingered a pendant around her neck, then shook her head. “We divert from the path. What’s on your mind, Tristan?”

Tristan swallowed against the building lump in his throat. There was no way he could talk about his feelings with Zahra, not when she had the ear of a woman who could send him to face the Queen of Nyarlea with a wave of her hand. “It’s nothing, really.”

“Your face says it is far more than ‘nothing.’” Zahra placed a consoling hand on his shoulder. “You helped me achieve my quest and allowed me to fulfill the wishes of my queen. The least I can do is lend you an ear.” She took a seat in one of the cabanas, patting the cushion beside her with a grin. “You may speak freely here.”

Accepting her invitation, Tristan sat, leaning forward to rest his elbows against his thighs and clasp his hands between his knees. “It’s complicated.”

“All of the best things are.”

He rubbed his face in his hands. How can I tell her without breaking at least a dozen laws? With a deep breath, he began slowly, “So, Shi Island is my island.”

“Right.”

Dropping his arms, he lifted his face to the sky. It was a cloudless day, just broad strokes of brilliant blue. “My first three years of Nyarlea were spent in one room. Reading, drawing, studying, and sleeping with whoever was scheduled for me.”

Zahra blinked. “That sounds like a prison.”

“In a way, it was. But in other ways, it was so much easier. I knew what my days looked like, and everyone was—” he hesitated, chewing the inside of his cheeks.

“Everyone was what?” she pried gently.

“Everyone was emotionally kept at arm’s length,” he admitted, letting the words tumble free before he could stop himself. “It’s part of my job here—to keep the population going. I should be better at not feeling protective or…”

“Or love,” Zahra finished for him.

Embarrassment heated his face. “Yeah.”

Silence stretched between them, and for a few terrifying heartbeats, Tristan feared that he’d misplaced his trust.

Then, Zahra touched his hand. “May I offer another perspective?”

“Of course.”

“We are raised to revere men. Much like the Goddess Herself, men are seen as out of reach for the majority of catgirls and are taught to respect their wishes and their time. This puts you in an extremely disadvantageous position.” Zahra squeezed his hand and drew away, resting it on her thigh.

“How so?”

“The weight of expectation upon you before you arrive is entirely unfair. Per Saoirse’s decree, men and catgirls should not show favoratism or preference. We should not be jealous of others’ positions or interactions. We must put the good of our island and of Nyarlea before our own personal feelings.” Zahra shook her head. “We are taught and trained in these things from birth. Men like you, who existed in an entirely different plain, must adapt.”

“And rehabilitation awaits us all if we fail.”

“As I said. Disadvantageous,” Zahra repeated. “When I was still a kitten, my mother told me that there were many who loved Krethik. He was brilliant, just, and kind. Much like yourself.”

Tristan blushed. “You and Ishani are too kind.”

“I imagine he felt similarly conflicted, too. Many times,” Zahra continued. “It is not a widely shared belief, but my mother told me that to deny your feelings is foolish. However, to love is to understand that you must let them go.”

Tristan’s heart sank. It was the same realization he’d come to with Ara, and he missed her more than words could say.

“I know it must hurt. Deeply. I—” it was Zahra’s turn to hesitate. She looked back toward the entrance to the citadel and surveyed the courtyard. Dropping her voice to just above a whisper, she said, “I see the same pain on Queen Naeemah’s face, and I am helpless.”

Behind Tristan’s personal turmoil, it felt as if the final piece of a puzzle he’d been waiting to solve had fallen into place. Cailu’s question of betrayal to Ravyn. His fluctuating moods. Naeemah’s solemn isolation from the rest of their group.

I am not alone.

“Dammit. It really isn’t fair,” he murmured. There was a fraction of solidarity in it. Understanding.

“It is not,” Zahra whispered. “Yet, still, we steel ourselves and press on. We must, or the whole world suffers for it.”

Tristan nodded. “You’re incredibly observant, Zahra. Cailu’s lucky to have you in his Party.”

“And it was my honor to be in yours, Tristan.” She clasped him on the shoulder. “Never stop caring for those closest to you, and may the wind carry your desires.”

“Thanks, Zahra.” He still felt frustrated and hollow, but hearing it out loud and knowing that this battle wasn’t his alone to shoulder eased some of the tension.

“Ah, there you are, Zahra!”

Cailu’s call snapped both of them to attention. Zahra leaped to her feet and offered him a quick salute.

“Come. I need your assistance.” Cailu waved a hand, gesturing for Zahra to follow.

That’s new.

“Of course, sir. Right away!” Zahra hollered. She turned to Tristan with an apologetic smile. “Come find me if you want to talk again?”

“Sure thing. Thank you, really.” He nodded toward Cailu. “Best not to keep him waiting.”

After Zahra disappeared inside the castle with Cailu, Tristan summoned Desiree. The sweet Familiar wove through his legs with a purr, then hopped into his lap. He scratched her behind the ears and leaned back, grateful for the cool breeze that toyed with his hair.

Polished white shells, tall thin torches, copper-colored wind chimes…