“I am your oravirven. You have to speak for me to assist,” he commented before returning to plucking dead leaves and flowers.
True, but I didn’t want to talk any more than before. When a person appealed to the Crystal for their soulmate, they were given someone to guide them through the process, someone who’d been through it before. Usually, they were the same gender and soul type.
We believed in four types of souls: warriors, spirituals, seekers, and creators. For a very long time, warriors and spirituals had been venerated. Seekers had eventually risen to prominence with the growing science and technology. Creators were the hardest. They hadn’t been valued until recently, and many still didn’t see their worth. Drakcol had been originally a warring people, and, in many ways, we still were, and creators hardly helped in war efforts.
I watched Pimtimzol, who patiently continued to garden. He had a creator soul and seemed perfectly content with his fate.
I was not as magnanimous.
“I have not spoken to him since our bonding.”
“Why?” he asked.
“He will not leave his room.”
“This is a great change for him.”
I stretched my legs and crossed them at the ankle while my wings readjusted on my back, hidden beneath my shirt. “How can I help if he will not allow me to talk to him?”
“Maybe you can’t help him.”
“I have to,” I insisted. “He’s my mate.”
“He is. For now.”
My soul pounded as panic rushed under my skin. I tried to banish the fire in my gut, but it wouldn’t go. Light pooled beneath my scales, bathing the plants nearest to me and makingsome of the leaves wither from the heat, while the more distant plants began to grow.
“You think he will reject me?”
“I have no idea, but leaving is your Seth Harris’s choice. You cannot take it from him nor force him, Kalvoxrencol,” he said.
I allowed the informality because of our new relationship; besides, I liked Pimtimzol.
“Give him time. Allow his mind and soul to rest and catch up with the new reality.”
“I’m trying,” I whispered.
“You will need great kindness and patience. Wooing your soulmate is not an easy task.”
“You succeeded.”
“I did, but I possessed an advantage you do not have—I courted her before we were bound.”
The Coalition of Planets didn’t allow any association with people on unsanctioned planets besides taking samples. As a result, I hadn’t been able to court my intended before taking him. How much different would this have gone if I had? Would Seth have loved me? I’d like to think so, but there was no way to know.
“He doesn’t feel the bond the way I do,” I said.
“That’s not uncommon. Not all species do. Their minds work differently. My mate did not, and still doesn’t, feel the bond between us nor can she speak mind to mind as crystal-bound mates can.”
I’d known Seth might not feel the bond or be able to mind-speak after we’d reaffirmed the bond, but I’d hoped. How I’d hoped. The dream of him feeling the same as I did withered much like the dead blooms Pimtimzol efficiently plucked from the many vines and bushes.
“What kind of soul was your Seth Harris?” he asked, drawing me out of my thoughts.
The deep red of his glow had been strong and fierce. The trueness of the color indicated the strength of the soul type. Light red could’ve hinted Seth had been closer to another soul type like creator or spiritual, but no, he’d been a deep red, almost black—a pure warrior.
I wanted to scoff, but I contained it. My parents would be thrilled, unlike my own showing when I was a child of ten. My own light green soul showed the opposite of Seth’s. I was a pure creator soul, while a darker green might have indicated I was closer to a warrior or seeker soul. Warrior and seeker souls grew darker the stronger they were; whereas, spiritual and creator souls shone lighter the stronger they were.
“Warrior,” I replied, my tone harsher than I’d intended, as pain viciously stabbed me.
