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Randa’s memories floated past him.

It was a kaleidoscope of colors and moments, none of them leading directly into the next, but all of them helping to shape who she was. Kahn was fascinated to see how her mind worked. His Match experienced life so differently than he did. The sharp details of her memories were softened at the edges, but all the sensations were turned up to blast.

He could feel so much. Randa had empathy for everyone, and she was incredibly sensitive. Her emotions went so deep. She could be easily hurt, but she also found endless joy in the world. It humbled him.

He watched her as a little girl, playing amid the cliff dwellings of the Stone House. Built right into the sides of the soaring canyon, they were insanely high off the ground. Randa didn’t even notice, as she raced along the steep edge, dark hair streaming behind her.

No adults called out for her to be careful. Instead, Kahn saw a man and woman in front of one of the stone houses, bitterly arguing with each other. Her parents. He recognized pieces of his Match within their faces. Neither one of them was paying attention to Randa, completely caught up in their own drama.

He instantly detested them.

Randa ignored her parents’ squabble as if she was used to their yelling. Coming to a halt at the precipice, she balanced on her toes and looked down, down, down into the canyon.

Kahn cringed at her precarious position. Somehow she didn’t fall. Lost in her own world, she nudged some pebbles off the edge just for the fun of watching them tumble. Leaning allllll the way over, she followed their descent with a fearless giggle.

Kahn was torn between the frantic urge to grab her back from the treacherous drop-off and grinning, because she looked happy. He loved to see her smile. There was so much brightness in her soul. It was no wonder she wanted to explore more of the human realm. Beneath her calm exterior, she craved adventure. Life.

The scene shifted and she was no longer carefree. Instead, her grandmother was lecturing her about how to sit like a proper lady. Randa was a few decades older, trapped in a school with uncomfortable chairs and three gray walls.

The fourth wall wasn’t a wall.

It was a balcony without a railing, overlooking a thousand-foot drop. Unable to resist, Kahn edged closer to the end of the floor and peered down at the rocks far below. He suppressed a shudder. It truly was a wonder Randa had survived her childhood, living with this kind of architecture. It was a wonder any of the Stone Phases did.

He glanced back over at his Match. She looked miserable, but she focused on copying the elegant way her grandmother crossed her ankles.

“Better.” Viola sniffed. “Not good. But better, at least.”

Randa seemed pleased with that faint praise. “May I go, now?” She asked with unrestrained eagerness.

“No, you may not.” Viola corrected starchily. She was the very image of a patrician grandmother, with elegantly arranged white hair and dark eyes that missed nothing. “Do you think I’ve forgotten about your misadventure in the library?”

As if presenting evidence in court, she marched over to her desk and came up with… a book of poetry? Kahn squinted at the title. The Barbarian’s Willing Captive: A Romantic Saga Told in Verse.

He chuckled. He knew she’d read a lot of poems. She’d identified the style of his tattoos so quickly. He’d just expected her to enjoy more cultured sonnets and less racy adventure tales. The woman was a constant delight.

“Trash like this,” Viola pointed to the book as if it was a dead rat stinking up the room, “is an obstacle to proper deportment. You’re drawn to lustful savagery, Randa.”

“I promise, I’ve never felt lust towards anyone.” Randa seemed disappointed with that fact.

Kahn arrogantly grunted. Back in the present, she’d told him she could now feel lust. It was a huge accomplishment for him. The alligator shirt must’ve won her over.

Viola kept talking. “It will be your ruin, if you give into these uncivilized impulses. You must learn to repress them.”

“Yes, Grandmother.”

Viola straightened her immaculate dress, uncomfortable with her own harsh words. She cared about her granddaughter. She just had no idea how to show it.

For a sensitive person like Randa, it would’ve felt like she was bombarded with criticism. Kahn was pissed at the older woman for causing her pain. …Although, he’d been even worse than Viola, when he’d first met his Match.

Kahn cringed at the thought.

It was a miracle that Randa had forgiven him, given the horrific things he’d said and how intensely she felt everything. He could see how deeply his words must have wounded her. It made him disgusted with himself. He vowed to make it up to her.

Kahn would show his Match that she was valued. And heard. And loved.

Viola tried to soften her stance, because only a literal monster could be stern when Randa’s huge eyes were fixed on them. “I won’t be around forever. You’ll need to know how to survive on your own. Your parents are useless, so it will be entirely up to you to secure a prosperous future. There’s no time for frivolity.”

Randa nodded. “Yes, Grandmother.”