Vuhr went rigid, the charts forgotten. His ears flattened against his head, and a sound emerged from his throat that I’d never heard before—not quite a growl, not quite a keen, but something between the two. The hair along his spine stood on end, and his wings, which had been folded neatly against his back, snapped open with enough force to send several of the charts flying.
“Vuhr?” I stepped back, startled. “What’s wrong?”
He turned to me, his expression unreadable to my human eyes. His pupils had contracted to narrow slits, giving him a wild look I hadn’t seen since the day we’d met, when he’d stood between me and danger.
“I need air,” he said, his voice tight and controlled in a way that sent alarm bells ringing through my mind. Without further explanation, he strode toward the terrace doors, wings still partially extended, tail now held stiffly behind him.
I watched, bewildered, as he launched himself from the terrace into the open air, powerful wings carrying him rapidly away from the Sanctuary building.
“What just happened?” I whispered to the empty room.
I replayed the moment in my mind, trying to identify my transgression. Had I hurt him somehow? The tail was strong, muscular—I couldn’t have injured it with a simple touch. Was touching the tail taboo outside of intimate settings? But thatdidn’t make sense either; he’d wrapped it around my wrist just yesterday as we walked through the gardens, a public display of affection.
I sank back onto my cushion, a sick feeling growing in my stomach. Three days of bonding, of what I thought was growing understanding, and I’d already managed to offend him deeply enough that he’d literally fled from my presence.
Perhaps this was the inevitable outcome of trying to bridge our differences. Perhaps there were too many cultural gaps, too many unspoken rules that I would never fully grasp. The thought sent a chill through me. I’d committed myself to this union, believing we could overcome our differences. What if I was wrong?
The door to the common room slid open with a soft hiss, and I looked up expectantly, hoping to see Vuhr. Instead, Counselor Patel, the Sanctuary’s cultural counselor hurried in, her wide eyes full of concern.
“Mira!” she exclaimed, her voice melodic even in distress. “I just saw Vuhr take off from the terrace in quite a state. Everything seemed to be going well. What happened?”
I explained the incident as best I could, ending with my confusion over his reaction.
“Wait—you touched his tail? Just like that, unprompted?” Veela’s color shifted to a deep blue of understanding. “Oh stars. Oh my. No wonder he reacted that way.”
“What did I do wrong?” I asked, dread building.
Veela settled beside me, her expression gentler now. “In Manticore culture, deliberately touching another’s tail outsideof established intimacy is a very specific gesture. It’s a pre-challenge for mating combat.”
I stared at her. “A what?”
“Mating combat.” She blinked all four eyes in sequence. “It’s an ancient practice. When a Manticore is already mated, if another wishes to challenge for the right to that mate, they signal their intent by touching the tail. It’s the equivalent of...hmm, in human terms, perhaps throwing down a gauntlet? Or slapping someone across the face to demand a duel?”
Horror washed over me as understanding dawned. “So when I touched his tail...”
“He thinks you’re unsatisfied with him as a mate and are challenging him to prove his worth again.” Veela’s skin rippled with sympathetic pink. “It’s particularly confusing because you’re already bonded. In the old days, such a challenge so soon after bonding would indicate serious dissatisfaction.”
I covered my face with my hands. “I was trying to be flirtatious! I thought it would be, I dunno, playful?”
“Cultural misunderstandings are inevitable in cross-species relationships,” Veela said gently. “This is why the Sanctuary exists—to provide a safe place for these learning experiences.”
“Learning experiences,” I echoed weakly. “Is that what we’re calling my accidentally challenging my husband to combat three days after our wedding?”
Veela’s skin flashed briefly with amused turquoise before she composed herself. “If it helps, this isn’t the first time this particular misunderstanding has occurred. There was a human-Drakloid couple last year who—well, that’s a story for another time.”
She rose, extending a hand to help me up. “Come. We should find Vuhr and explain. He’s probably circling the southern cliffs, working off his confusion. Manticores often fly when emotionally distressed.”
As we headed toward the terrace, I couldn’t help but ask, “What would have happened if we were among his people? If I’d made this gesture publicly?”
Veela’s color shifted to a thoughtful purple. “He would have been expected to demonstrate his worthiness through a display of strength or skill—not necessarily combat in the modern era, but something impressive. It’s rather romantic, in a primal sort of way.”
“Romantic,” I repeated, wondering how many more ‘romantic’ Manticore customs I had yet to discover. “I have so much more to learn, don’t I?”
“Yes,” Veela agreed, her tone kind but honest. “But so does he. That’s the beauty of interspecies unions—two souls discovering each other across the gulf of different evolutionary paths. The challenges are many, but so are the rewards.”
As we stepped onto the terrace, I scanned the sky for the distinctive silhouette of Vuhr’s wings, hoping he would understand that my gesture came from affection, not challenge. Perhaps this misunderstanding, embarrassing as it was, would become one of those stories we told in later years.
seven
