Chapter 19
The old orc wasn’t pleased to have to heal a kir’shakur; however, a single stern look from Malek was enough for her to begin applying the foul-smelling pastes to Leone. My brother only groaned in pain as she smeared the ointment into his wounds.
I ran my hand through his hair, brushing a few damp strands away from his sweat-soaked forehead.
"It’s going to be alright," I sniffled, feeling my heart fracture at the sight of him in such a state.
Uruha shot me a suspicious look, but I didn't care. She could judge me all she wanted. My life had already been decided by the bargain I had struck with the Ruk’hai.
It was his duty to protect me, and in exchange, I would help him.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed him.
He hadn't moved from the spot where he'd stood since arriving at the hut with Uruha.
He had positioned himself like a sentry at the door, shoulders tense, hands balled into fists, jaw locked tight.
I couldn't begin to imagine what he must have been feeling then. To discover that not only had he helped the daughter of his greatest enemy, but that he was now sheltering the very warrior he had faced in countless battles.
When Uruha finally finished applying the ointment to all of Leone’s wounds, she spat something crude at the Ruk’hai and stormed out of the hut without a backward glance.
Leone’s breathing was no longer ragged, and the agony etched into his features had softened. I pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead before lifting my gaze to Malek, who was already watching me with an unreadable expression.
The bargain tugged at me, a golden thread stretching between us and binding us beyond life itself. I had never struck one before, but the sensation wasn't entirely unpleasant. Just unfamiliar. In a way, I could feel him at my very core.
I stepped closer to him, struggling not to shrink beneath his piercing stare. I didn't know what it was about Malek; though he was an orc, something was tempting about him. A magnetic pull drew me forward despite my better judgment.
"I-I..." I began in Okshakai. A knot tightened in my throat, but I forced the words out. "Maka’ri, Ruk’hai. You saved my brother. I’ll never forget this."
Before I could lose my nerve, I rose onto my tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
Malek flinched like he'd been struck by lightning.
His eyes swept over my face with searing intensity, searching for hidden meaning behind the gesture.
My heart hammered against my ribs, adrenaline rushing through my veins like a turbulent river, blurring my senses.
Malek didn’t move, tension rippling through his shoulders. His brown eyes, which now I could see were flecked with gold and green, fixed on me with so much confusion that guilt stirred in my chest for provoking it.
Slowly, he raised a hand to the spot where my lips had brushed his skin, trying to understand the invisible mark left behind. He looked away, swallowing hard, struggling to regain the composure I had just undone.
"You don’t need to thank me," he answered, his voice even raspier than before.
"Yes, I do," I insisted, ignoring the urge to retreat. "You did what most High Fae would never do. You saved an enemy."
He shook his head in denial, but I stood my ground. Seized by the same boldness that had driven me to kiss him, I reached out and rested my hands against his face.
"You’re good, Malek," I said with absolute conviction. "Much better than I am."
It was the plain truth. If our roles had been reversed, I didn’t know if I would have done the same for him.
I thought of the Orb of Caith, lost during the dùthragh attack, and how it had glowed in his direction.
The Orb didn’t point to where I wanted to go, but to where I was meant to be, and my place was in Oksha.
Malek didn’t pull away. The contact of my skin against his seemed to intensify the bond of the bargain, making the thread between us burn brighter.
"I’m the Ruk’hai of Oksha," he said. "My kindness is limited to my people. Don’t ask me to be anything else."
"I'm not asking," I countered. "I'm simply seeing who you are."
He closed his eyes again, releasing a deep sigh.
"Fionnuala." He used my true name for the first time, and the sound of it in Okshakai, shaped by his rough pronunciation, sent a shiver down my spine. "You’re dangerous."
"And you’re like an onion," I replied with a smile. "Full of layers."
The bargain had bound us, but the electricity between us was something else entirely.
A wildfire beneath the surface—too dangerous to touch, yet impossible to ignore.
I reminded myself that we came from different worlds, and that once I broke the curse, I would have to leave Oksha and return to Ceilte.
The thought settled heavily in my chest, refusing to fade no matter how hard I tried to ignore it.
He was the first to break contact, turning his face away and focusing on the open iron structure. He cleared his throat, rebuilding his Ruk’hai composure brick by brick.
"I’m going to clean him up," I said, pointing to Leone, who was snoring peacefully, blissfully unaware of the tension between his sister and an orc.
He only nodded, shifting his attention back to my brother.
"Tell no one about him," he commanded. "No one can know his identity."
"Understood," I replied.
He stood there for a few minutes, his eyes fixed on me, unable to look away. Involuntarily, my attention drifted to his full lips, the fangs peeking between them. I imagined what it would be like to feel them against my skin, nipping at sensitive flesh.
Malek cleared his throat; the sound jolted me out of my far-from-innocent thoughts. My face burned hot, and I quickly turned back toward my brother.
"Ruk’hai… could you help me take these chains off him?"
We removed Leone’s shackles carefully. Malek managed to spring them open using a small, needle-like knife he pulled from his hair. The chains had left deep scars on my brother’s wrists—bitter proof of how hard he had fought to break free.
What had happened since I left Ceilte that led to Leone’s imprisonment and torture? I ran my hand through his hair again. By Danu’s grace, Malek had found him. I didn’t know whether it was destiny or coincidence, but I was grateful.
"I’ll bring furs for him to sleep on," Malek said, drawing my attention back to him. "Remember: he cannot leave this place."
I smiled at him as warmly as I could. He stared at me for a moment before turning abruptly and leaving with the same tense posture as before. I picked up the basin of clean water that Uruha had brought and, with a piece of cloth, carefully began cleaning my twin’s face.
Malek returned minutes later with a pile of soft furs, a canteen of fresh water, and a large piece of bread.
He spread the furs on the floor beside Leone and lifted him with a gentleness that surprised me.
For someone who had fought against High Fae his entire life, he treated my brother with unexpected dignity.
With Leone sleeping comfortably nestled in the furs, Malek hesitated, uncertain of what to do next. His gaze flickered between me and the hut entrance, weighing whether he should stay or leave.
"You can go. I’ll stay with him, if that’s alright."
Malek’s gaze lingered on Leone, laden with indecision—and something darker. Dread, perhaps. But what was there for him to fear?
"I'm staying," he said through gritted teeth.
He walked to a corner of the cabin and sat on the floor, leaning his back against the wall, then crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes, his posture tense yet resigned.
His presence comforted me. It felt good to know someone remained by my side.
"You’re exhausted," I murmured. "Why don't you rest? I’ll look after him."
Malek cracked one eye open, exhaustion etched into the lines of his face.
He had been away from the village for days, patrolling the forests for invaders.
I doubted he had slept at all during that time.
Orcs—and fae in general—could go long periods without rest, but consecutive days running through the woods were enough to exhaust even someone of Malek’s size.
"I don’t trust sleeping High Fae," he declared.
I wasn't offended by his honesty.
"I’m a High Fae," I countered, trying to ease the tension with a subtle smile. "And I’m awake."
He stared at me in a way that made my heart race, his eyes scanning my face, searching deeper than words.
"You’re different. You always were."
The conviction in his voice stole my breath. Under the weight of his stare, a strange impression settled over me: he knew more about me than he was letting on.
"Different how?" I asked, curiosity overcoming my exhaustion.
He hesitated, holding my gaze.
"You’re... an orc with soft skin," he said, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly—almost a smile.
I frowned, surprised by the unexpected answer.
"Is that a compliment?"
"It’s the best way I can describe you," he affirmed, meeting my eyes. "You’re kind. Soft-hearted."
Not for the first time that day, my body reacted to his words.
Heat rose to my cheeks, and my stomach fluttered.
He saw me in a way no one ever had. To him, I wasn’t Princess Fionnuala of Ceilte, burdened by my lineage, nor the cursed orc.
I was simply myself—a soft-skinned orc, as he had called me.
A tightness spread through my chest, like something inside me had shifted out of place. Relief loosened it one moment, only for unease to coil in its wake. Being seen so clearly left me exposed, with nowhere to hide.
“You’re strange, Ruk’hai.”
He only shrugged. Silence returned, more comfortable now, broken only by Leone’s steady breathing.