Chapter 19 #2
I held my brother’s hand, noticing the stark difference between us.
My hand was larger than his, and our skin tones were now completely different.
Leone and I were identical twins—each other's mirror image.
When we were children, my mother used to dress us in the same clothes just to confuse people.
It had been fun to pretend I was him whenever someone asked. We did that until puberty, when our bodies changed too much to remain identical. Now, the difference was undeniable. I was green and large, and he was not.
Malek watched from the shadows, a silent yet reassuring presence. He offered the same sense of security I once felt at home—in the warmth of my parents' arms.
The exhaustion that had stalked me for days finally settled in with full force, and I fought to keep my eyes open.
"Go to sleep," Malek commanded, his voice softer now. "I will keep watch."
"I can't. I need to..."
"You are of no use exhausted," he interrupted. "Sleep."
The way he gave the order left no room for argument. Malek was right. If I wanted to help Leone, I needed rest.
I settled onto the floor, resting my head against the hard wall. My eyes closed, and the invisible armor I had carried for days finally crumbled as my mind slipped into darkness.
? ? ?
I jolted awake at the sharp bite of something pressed against my throat. When my eyes snapped open, I found a pair of blue eyes—identical to my own—wide with panic.
Leone knelt before me, brandishing a jagged shard of obsidian he must have taken from the floor. His stare held no recognition. It was the look of a wounded warrior, cornered and fighting for his life.
"Who are you?" he hissed, his voice hoarse but steady with determination. "Where am I?"
I opened my mouth to answer, but a snarl of pure fury tore through the air, vibrating against the hut walls. Leone tensed instantly.
I looked up to find Malek at the entrance, two steaming bowls in his hands, his eyes blazing, muscles tight like a predator ready to spring.
"Release her, kir’shakur!"
"Don't come any closer," Leone growled, pressing the obsidian deeper against my skin.
I moved quickly to intervene before the tension erupted into senseless violence.
"Leone, it’s me! Fiona!"
The panic in Leone’s eyes faltered, replaced by confusion. He scrutinized my face and frowned doubtfully. He still didn’t recognize me; to him, I was nothing more than an orc standing between him and survival.
"Fionnuala’s gone," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "You can’t be her."
Malek halted a few paces away, tension radiating from his frame, yet he waited, allowing me to handle it. Relief washed through me at his trust.
"Malek," I said. "He’s wounded and not in his right mind."
I turned my attention back to Leone, keeping my voice soft and steady.
"Do you remember the stories Mother used to tell us about Eldaerenth? How the forest spirits would snatch us away if we dared sneak into the kitchen in the middle of the night...?"
Leone’s eyes widened, and finally, the rigid tension in his frame cracked. That was a memory only the two of us shared.
"Fiona?" he whispered, his voice breaking as tears welled in his eyes.
"Yes," I answered, feeling the sting rise in my own. "It’s me. Your sister."
Leone blinked, and the shard slipped from his fingers, hitting the floor with a sharp clatter.
An instant later, he flung himself into my arms, just as he had when we were children—back when I traveled with our mother to our grandparents' summer estate, leaving him behind in Ceilte to his studies.
"F-Fiona?"
"Yes, brother," I choked, pulling him into a crushing embrace.
He grunted at the force of my grip, now stronger than his own, yet held on with equal desperation. His body shook with pain and exhaustion, but the familiarity of my touch seemed to calm him.
“You're alive," he whispered, breathing in the scent of my hair. "It really is you! What happened? When I returned, Father said you had vanished."
"It's a long story, Leo," I said, pulling back slightly to cup his face in my hands. "But what happened to you? Why was Grìosach hauling you in that… that cage?"
Leone gasped, struggling to steady his breathing and gather his thoughts. His eyes darted around the cabin, unfocused and frantic, until they landed on Malek.
The shift was immediate. Relief vanished from his face, replaced by cold shock. He went deathly pale.
With a sudden motion, my brother pushed himself to his feet. He swayed briefly before planting himself in front of me like a shield, body rigid despite his weakness. His instinct to protect me overrode pain.
"Malek Strong-Axe," he spat the name like an accusation.
"Leone, please," I said, reaching for his arm. "He saved me."
Leone hesitated, his stare locked on the massive war axe strapped to Malek’s back.
"He’s our greatest enemy, Fiona. Do you have any idea how many of our people he has slaughtered with that goddess-forsaken axe?"
The accusation stung. I stepped between my brother and the orc who, piece by piece, was carving himself into my life.
"And how many orcs have you killed, Leone?" I countered, my voice sharp. "Malek saved your life. If not for him, you'd be on your way to Ceilte right now, nothing more than a pawn to be used against our father."
"He's an orc, Fi!"
"So am I!"
My words cut through whatever argument Leone was about to unleash, leaving him stunned, as though the truth had only just reached him.
It made sense. He hadn't been there to see me leave Ceilte. He had been away with the guards, chasing Merith, and had missed the bitter arguments that ended in my exile.
Malek, who had been watching in silence, finally moved. He set the bowls on the table and stepped forward, his expression unreadable. Leone stiffened at once, standing before the orc whose deeds were sung in our halls—though never as heroes’ tales.
"I’m your enemy," Malek said, his voice low and controlled. "But for now, you’re in my home, wounded and weak. If you wish to leave, you may go. But I will not allow you to disrespect Fiona."
Shock stole Leone’s voice. The disbelief in his eyes mirrored what I had felt when I first saw him imprisoned in that iron structure.
"He’s right, Leo," I began. "He protected me, trained me, and gave me a place to belong. And now he's risking everything to heal you."
"Why?" Leone whispered, suspicion still weighing on his voice. "Why would he do that?"
Malek’s gaze shifted toward me. The tether of our bargain stirred between us, alive and burning.
"Your sister made her choice," Malek said, his attention fixed on Leone. "Peace between our peoples. She gave me her word."
"Peace? With Oksha?" Leone let out a breath that nearly became a laugh, but it broke into a pained groan. "This is madness, Fiona. Our father would never agree to it."
"He will," I said, the certainty in my voice drawn from years of knowing Alasdair to his core. "If he doesn't want to lose his daughter, he'll listen and do the right thing. Haven’t we had enough of this war, Leo?"
His shoulders sagged, tension draining from them. He dragged a hand through his tangled hair.
"This is madness, Fi. Though I always knew you had a screw loose."
A faint smile tugged at my lips, and he returned it—small, weary, but genuine. It was enough. He would help me. He always had.
"Well," he added, a hint of resolve threading through his voice, "if we're going to upend the natural order of things, we'd better have a plan."