Summer’s eyes stung. What if Ar’ar was right? Was her happiness worth Ke’lar’s life?
“I love him. Doesn’t that matter to you?”
“The Zerar took the luxury of love from us when they unleashed their plague on my people,” he growled. “Now it is about which of the g’hir are deserving enough—strong enough—to survive. The Betari must be among those who do.”
“Ar’ar, if there is one thing my time on Hir has taught me,” Summer said tightly, “it’s that surviving isn’t living. And your people have known enough killing.”
Ar’ar looked to the far side of the courtyard where the Erah stood, where Ke’lar stood, waiting for this battle to begin.
“Do you think me a monster? My heart is sick with what will result from this challenge,” he rumbled. “All that will be lost.”
“Then don’t fight it,” Summer pleaded. “You don’t have to. What if I agreed to go with you? What if—”
“No. The matter must be settled here, today. There can be no doubt to whom you belong.” His fangs bared. “And when I kill their clanbrother the Erah will hate us even more. It will not be long before our enclosures are at war.”
She shook her head. “I’m not worth a war, Ar’ar.”
“Why did you run from me?” he demanded sharply. “Why did you not tell me of the child? She is a daughter of mine—of the Betari!”
She closed her eyes briefly. “Because I had to get back to Earth to protect her. Me not being there when she was returned from a visit to her grandmother would have put Emma in great danger. I know,” she hurried to say at his frown, “you don’t understand. That something like that would never happen on Hir, but believe me, getting back to Earth—fast—was the only way to keep her safe.”
He searched her face.
“I believe you,” he rumbled at last. “I believe that you acted to protect our child. What I do not understand is why you did not trust me to protect her.”
“I think you would have—the g’hir way. You would have gone and tried to find Emma . . . if you’d known about her.”
“I will be a good mate to you, Summer,” he growled softly. “I am strong. I will protect our daughter . . . and all the offspring that follow her.”
Summer chewed the inside of her cheek. “Please don’t do this.”
His nostrils flared. “I do not have any choice.”
“We always have choices,” Summer said hoarsely.
He looked away, his face hard and set now. “Not if the Betari are to survive.”
It was clear that she wasn’t doing any good here, that she didn’t have any more chance of talking him out of this than she did Ke’lar.
Ke’lar was watching her warily, his expression guarded as she approached. “Is there something you wish to tell me, Summer?”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “Don’t die.”
“I dare not.” He gave a faint smile. “The All Mother has given me too much to live for and She will be much vexed if I am not here to appreciate it.”
She rested her hands on his chest, feeling the strong steady beat of his heart. “I love you.”
“And I love you . . .” he rumbled and brushed his nose against hers, then pressed a kiss to her mouth. “My sweet Summer . . .”
From the other side of the courtyard, Ar’ar came forward. Mirak and the other clanbrothers took up a place near Rotin but the Erah clanfather did not even acknowledge his rival.
“It is time,” Ke’lar said, waving his brother forward. “Ra’kur will keep you safe until this is ended.”
Ra’kur’s hand was at her elbow, seeking to draw her away, but she couldn’t make her feet move. “Ke’lar . . .”
His glowing blue gaze was steady. “I will not fail you.”
“No . . .” she whispered but Ra’kur’s hold was less gentle now, pulling her back, away from the combatants.
The men faced each other as Ra’kur hauled her up the clanhall steps.
“Wait!” Summer pleaded, pulling against Ra’kur’s hold. In the courtyard Ar’ar was already falling into a fighter’s posture. “Let me talk to them again!”
“Ar’ar!” Ke’lar roared, taking position before his opponent, his fangs fully bared. “I challenge you for the female, Summer. Will you fight me for her?”
“Let me—”
Ra’kur’s grip tightened against her struggles. “Be still,” he hissed. “Or I will take you into the clanhall!”
Ar’ar glanced her way then, his yellow gaze burning, his face savage, terrifying.
“No,” Ar’ar growled and straightened from his battle stance. “I will not.”
Twenty-seven
“You . . .” Ke’lar rumbled into the collective stunned silence, his brow furrowed, his body still tense as if suspecting a trick. “You concede?”
“Fight, Ar’ar!” Mirak urged, regarding his son in astonishment. “She is yours!”