Chapter 25
The days dragged on in Oksha, with no sign of the Autumn Court seeking vengeance.
Malek met daily with Kroshak, Drak, and the other clan elders to discuss the alliance with Ceilte.
Leone remained secluded in the hut, but he was well, recovering quickly thanks to Uruha’s ointments and his Fae metabolism.
No one knew about the curse or my true identity.
To the Okshai, I was simply the new krash’uk—the female who had claimed the heart of the Ruk’hai.
Every time I passed someone, they bowed, even Ni’kira.
After our mating, she no longer tried to approach my orc and kept their relationship formal, as warriors.
Speaking of my Ruk’hai, his absence followed me almost constantly, like a silent shadow.
There had been a time when we spent hours together, learning Okshakai, sparring, giving in whenever desire burned too brightly to ignore.
Now, he was always busy. And when I did see him, it was only in passing—just enough for a few quiet words and stolen kisses when no one was looking.
The bargain and our mating, which for the Oksha served as an engagement before the blessing ritual, had given me a place in the clan, but it had also demanded a price: his time.
In the mornings, I trained with Drak. He was patient and playful, but very demanding. Kalisha appeared sometimes, but not to train; she only observed, her brow furrowed, her usual austere expression firmly in place. Whatever was unfolding between her and Drak was a slow, painful dance to witness.
In the afternoons, Leone’s cabin was my refuge. Only a select group of orcs knew of his presence, and a single order from Malek had been enough to ensure that no one approached the hut where he was staying.
"I can't stand staying here anymore," he grumbled for the fifth time that hour, tossing and turning on the bed of furs.
"We’re almost ready," I replied, smiling as I sharpened the axe I now carried with me. "Just a few more days."
He sighed, running a hand through his hair, which, without the oils and perfumes of Ceilte, had lost some of its luster.
"This is ridiculous. I’m the heir to Ceilte, and I’m hidden away like a fugitive."
"You are a fugitive," I countered, refusing to let my patience wear thin. "The Autumn Court wants you for a reason, and Malek’s risking his life and his entire clan to protect you."
"I know! It’s just... I’ve never felt so useless."
"Have patience, brother," I said. "Soon you’ll be able to bathe in the blood of your enemies."
He rolled his eyes before fixing his gaze on me.
"And you? How are things with your nearly eleven-foot-tall orc?"
"Very well," a smile escaped before I could contain it. "But I’m anxious. If Fenric’s truly moving the pieces for a coup, we need to act fast."
Leone agreed, his expression clouding over.
"I wish we knew how they are," he said.
My heart tightened at the memory of my parents and Kristan.
I couldn't even imagine what was happening in Ceilte at this moment, but I hoped they were well, especially Kristan.
My mother and father knew how to defend themselves, but my childhood friend did not.
She barely knew how to use the common magic that every High Fae was capable of using.
"They’ll be fine," I said, trying to sound more confident than I actually felt. "Mama would skin anyone who dared to lay a finger on Papa. You know that."
I finally managed to draw a laugh from him—brief, but sincere. I hated seeing Leone so miserable, but we didn't have much of a choice. Malek couldn't simply introduce him to the clan, not without knowing for sure that Alasdair would strike a deal with him.
"What will you do if the deal doesn't work?"
That was the question that haunted me. I knew I wanted to stay with Malek, even if it meant renouncing Ceilte and my title. The curse was a distant memory to me and, to be honest, I would rather not break it. If I did, what would happen to Malek? Would he still accept me as a High Fae?
And the other orcs? How would they react to that? I highly doubted they would accept a High Fae as krash’uk.
"There’s no other possibility, Leo," I replied. "For the sake of the people of Ceilte and Oksha, peace is the only path. We can’t allow hatred and greed for power to destroy what remains of both our homes."
"It won't be easy," he warned me.
"Nothing worth it ever is."
Leone sighed, his shoulders slumped under the weight of the responsibility we all carried.
"Peace... such a strange word," he murmured.
"That’s exactly why we need it," I said. "If no one makes the effort to build something better, what will we be left with? Only more bloodshed, more resentment, and nothing real to sustain the future."
He studied me, likely trying to gauge whether my words were born of idealism or stubbornness. In the end, a broad smile broke across his face.
"You’ve changed, sister. You’re nothing like the little princess who used to sneak away to learn how to fight."
"And you don't look like the pompous male who walked around without a single hair out of place," I retorted with a crooked smile.
He let out a short, amused laugh, shaking his head. In that moment, I realized: even if I stayed here with Malek forever, Leo and I would always be two sides of the same coin.
That thought comforted me.
? ? ?
Night fell, and the pungent aroma of roasted meat and herbs drifted through the village. As usual, all the orcs gathered around the bonfire for dinner. I hoped they were busy enough not to notice I was gone.
Lately, I had taken advantage of these moments, when everyone was focused on their meal, to use the An Talamh, just as I had promised Malek. With it, I enriched the soil, making it more fertile and speeding the growth of the forest’s fruit trees.
The changes were small, almost imperceptible to the orcs’ eyes, but they would make a real difference for future harvests.
The land of Oksha had never been as fertile as the fields of Ceilte; the High Fae had left behind a lingering dark magic that had drained the soil, leaving it poor and hard for cultivation.
That was why the Okshai had always relied on hunting and foraging to survive. Yet at certain times of the year, especially in winter, when many animals hibernated, and resources grew scarce, they faced even greater hardships.
I hoped that with the An Talamh, I could help them.
The process of channeling the earth’s magic demanded absolute concentration and a stillness of mind that wasn’t always easy to achieve.
Yet the more I used the power, the more natural it became.
I closed my eyes and drew a deep breath, feeling the ancestral energy flow through me, warm and steady, as if the land itself acknowledged my presence.
The earth hummed beneath my feet. It was the same vibration I had sensed in the forest just after the curse had taken hold, and it was what guided me now. My body absorbed Marukoksha’s strength and channeled it toward the roots and seeds struggling to sprout in the parched soil.
The process calmed me. In that moment, I forgot everything. I was merely a channel, an instrument for the magic. Here, doing this, I felt more at home than I ever had in Ceilte.
A wave of heat spread from my belly, traveling through my arms and down to the tips of my fingers. I opened my eyes. An emerald-green mist shimmered around the plants, a silent sign that the magic was at work.
Satisfied, I withdrew the energy and took a deep breath.
When I turned to go back to the hut, Malek was standing just a few feet away from me, arms crossed over his chest, watching me with an intensity that made my heart race. How long had he been there?
"Is this your magic?"
His voice was low, but weighted with curiosity and admiration. He stepped closer, his scent of wet earth and deep forest wrapping around me.
"Yes. The An Talamh," I explained. "It’s the magic that comes from my mother’s lineage."
Malek furrowed his brow, his beautiful brown eyes narrowing.
"Is it the magic they used to destroy our lands?"
The question struck me like a whip, slicing through the fragile calm I had managed to hold.
"No," I answered quickly, my pulse thrumming.
"The An Talamh was never used to drain the life from the earth.
" I felt my fingers tingle slightly, as if the ground itself were waiting for me to say more.
"It only creates and nurtures," I continued, my voice dropping even lower—a whisper that seemed to reverberate through the ancient trees.
"All I do is return life, accelerate growth, and protect what remains.
I have never taken anything from the earth that should not have been taken. "
Malek held my gaze, his brow still furrowed, but a flicker of understanding passed through his eyes. His silence carried the weight of years, loss, battles, and hard-earned distrust. Finally, he drew a deep breath and, in a voice calmer than I had expected, offered a truce:
"Can I see?"
I didn’t know how it was possible, but I fell even deeper for Malek. For an orc who had spent his life hunted by my people, his acceptance of my magic was more than a gesture of trust—it was an act of courage.
I cupped his hands in mine and, with a touch of magic, let the An Talamh flow.
Between our fingers, tiny sprouts pushed through the soil, blossoming into flowers whose colors were impossibly vivid for that long-punished earth.
Malek drew in a sharp breath. His eyes widened, reflecting the glow of the newborn petals just as they had when he first laid eyes on the Ashe.
"Incredible, akra’yn," he said, marveling. "You’re incredible."
My cheeks heated at the compliment, and even more so at the way he was looking at me—not like someone evaluating my power or usefulness, but like I was precious.
Malek traced his massive fingers over the petals with surprising gentleness; the sight of his large hands moving so carefully over the delicate flowers was almost comical if it weren’t so deeply moving.
Then he picked one of them and placed it behind my ear.
"Krishn orok ‘n hkai, akra’yn," he whispered, his eyes locked on mine, shining with so much affection that my legs trembled.
I had no idea what the words meant, but I didn't need to speak Okshakai fluently to understand him.
Some feelings didn’t need translation.
"I love you, Malek Strong-Axe," I declared in the Common tongue, surprised by the ease with which the words flowed.
He blinked, his eyes fixed on mine, the admiration in his expression pure. Malek said nothing, but the intensity of his gaze deepened. Slowly, like we had all the time in the world, he kissed me.
The kiss was a promise—a mutual acceptance of what we had just confessed. A warmth spread through my chest, but it was different from the heat of the An Talamh; this one was gentle, coming from his very soul.
When we pulled apart, the glow of the tiny flowers was the only light between us, flickering as if they might dissolve at any moment. Malek’s fingers traced my cheek, and a simple smile curved his lips.
"Let’s go home, krash’uk," he said, pulling me toward him.
As we walked side by side back to his cabin, I felt the night’s chill envelop us. But the warmth of his hand in mine—and the certainty that he felt the same as I did—was enough to keep me warm.