Chapter 5
Savla
Present Day
I’d faced down demons, fought through the storms of Hellplane, and once survived an explosion involving enchanted wood and bad decision-making—but none of that compared to the absolute nightmare of trying to button a dress shirt designed for a male twice as wide as the doorway he had to walk through.
Pen—our clan chieftess, a human who I was more scared of than I really should be—was forcing us into three-piece suits with bowties for the naming ceremony of her and her mate’s new youngling. Apparently, this was ‘a moment for family photos.’ I’d have rather fought another demon.
“Hold still,” Enka, my younger brother, said around a mouthful of safety pins.
“I am holding still,” I growled. The collar bit into my neck like it had a personal vendetta against my breathing.
Across the room, my older brother Krusk was trying—and failing—to tie his own bowtie. The thing looked less like a knot and more like it was trying to wriggle off his neck and escape. He glared at his reflection.
“Why do we have to wear these things anyway? Dristan knows what we look like. Why do we need bows on our necks?”
“Pen wants clan pictures,” Enka said, pulling the pins from his mouth. “You don’t argue with a female who just had a youngling. It’s a death wish.”
Gabbi, Enka’s four-year-old daughter, sat on the bed swinging her legs, her curls tied up with bright ribbons. She was in a little green dress that matched them perfectly, holding a pink toy wand and looking far too pleased with herself.
“You all look silly,” she announced cheerfully.
I squinted at her. “You’re not helping.”
She giggled. “Abu, Uncle Krusk looks like a grumpy turtle.”
Krusk sighed, muttering, “She’s not wrong.”
Enka grinned, adjusting his cufflinks. “Get ready for the fireworks, Gruk-ir—your uncles are having an emotional breakdown.”
I growled low in my throat and finally got the last button through its hole. “This is humiliating. I wear the shirts and jackets they make us wear, even though my own clothes are so much better. They’re supposed to be uncomfortable. But this—” I tugged at my collar. “—this is evil.”
“Pen said you’d say that,” Enka said. “She also said you’d survive.”
Gabbi hopped off the bed and toddled over to me, her tiny hands patting my sleeve. “It’s okay, Uncle Savla. You look handsome. Like a prince.”
I blinked, caught off guard. “A… prince?”
She nodded solemnly. “A grumpy one. But still a prince.”
Krusk snorted so hard he nearly undid his bowtie. “She’s got you there, little brother.”
I shot him a look, but I couldn’t quite keep the corner of my mouth from twitching. Gabbi beamed, clearly satisfied with herself, and lifted her wand. “Now you’re ready. Poof! Handsome spell complete!”
The room went quiet for a beat. Then Enka said, deadpan, “I think it worked. He’s slightly less terrifying.”
I rolled my eyes, tugged at my cuffs, and muttered, “Let’s get this over with before someone decides we need matching hats.”
As we left the room—three hulking orcs and one tiny witchling in ribbons—Gabbi reached up and slipped her free hand into mine.
Her other hand was in her father’s, with her wand clasped between.
Her small fingers barely wrapped around one of mine, but the warmth of it eased something tight in my chest.
Maybe it wasn’t such a terrible thing, being part of a family that made me wear bowties. I looked over at my brothers, both of them already grinning like idiots—content, happy, settled. All the males of the clan were now mated and smug about it.
Except me.
The lone standout. The only one of us with any common sense, if I was being honest. Being mated might bring short-term happiness, but in the long run, it was the surest way to ruin your life.
They couldn’t see it yet, but they would, and when they did, I would be there to try to scoop up the broken pieces. Gritting my teeth, I looked forward, ignoring the voice that was screaming inside me.
You know her. You’ve met her.
“No, I don’t,” I growled to myself, and the little witchling holding my hand sent me a small, knowing, innocent smile. I narrowed my eyes at her, but she just started humming as we walked to the elevator. Our gathering hall—or reception hall as Pen called it was on a lower floor.
Gathering inside the elevator, Gabbi lifted her little arms to me. I complied immediately, settling her easily in one arm, tucked against my side. She pressed her hands to my shoulder, leaning over to whisper in my ear.
“I had a dream last night about you, Uncle Savla,” she told me.
I swallowed hard, because this little female definitely had the sight, and I wasn’t sure that I wanted to know what she’d seen.
“Yeah?” I asked, patting the top of her head with a single finger, careful to not disrupt her curls because I was afraid of her mother as well. In fact, I was terrified of all the females in the clan. “That’s nice, sweetling.”
She completely ignored my dismissal of her words.
“She won’t be around forever,” she said in a voice that was years older than she was. I gave her a sharp look and saw that her eyes were a little cloudy.
I should have been surprised. Shocked at the very least, but once again, I wasn’t. Not when it came to her.
“If you don’t act, then she can be taken from you,” she murmured in a voice that wasn’t completely her own. I was about to ask her about her words, but then her eyes cleared and she smacked a kiss to my cheek, resting her little head on my shoulder.
An eerie chill ran down my spine and the face of the female I’d been thinking of non-stop for the past year, since we’d come to this plane, popped into my head before I shoved everything aside.
It couldn’t be true. It was just a trick of the light. Everything’s going to be fine.
The denial I lived with on a daily basis replaced the worry that was filling my chest. Gabbi was just being the silly little witchling that she was. Hanna was safe in our clan and what had happened to her before would never happen again.
Not under my watch.
By the time we made it to the hall, I was seriously reconsidering my life choices.
The clan hall was already packed with members of Dristan and Rudgar’s companies—orcs, elves, witches, and a few fae scattered among them—all dressed up like they’d stepped out of a fashion catalog Pen had bullied them into.
Even Gabbi’s little centaur friend, Jael, had been invited.
The scent of roasted meat, sweet breads, and incense filled the air.
Bright ribbons hung from the rafters, and someone had enchanted the lights so that they shimmered in bright purple and green.
I was certain my best friend Zara had something to do with the color choice.
It should’ve felt festive, but my shirt collar was still plotting my slow death.
Pen spotted us instantly. Because of course she did. A small, sleep-deprived human woman in a flowing blue gown, waving like she was commanding an army—which, technically, she was.
“Finally!” she called, her voice cutting through the chatter. “You three look—” She paused, giving us a once-over. “—surprisingly good! Krusk, your tie’s crooked. Enka, fix it. Savla—” Her eyes narrowed. “Stop scowling.”
“I’m not scowling,” I said, defensively.
“You’re always scowling.”
Dristan appeared behind her, looking far too pleased for a male holding a squirming newborn.
The youngling’s tiny fists waved at the air, a soft coo escaping her mouth.
For all his strength, Dristan held the baby like something sacred.
I felt that weird pinch in my chest again—pride, affection, and something else I couldn’t quite name.
Not longing, definitely, because while I loved my niece, and I very much looked forward to more younglings in the clan, I did not want my own.
Pen clapped her hands. “Pictures, everyone! Gabbi, sweetheart, stand in front with Uncle Savla.”
Gabbi squealed and dragged me forward by the hand, positioning me like I was a prop. The clan photographer—a gnome with a camera nearly as big as he was—barked instructions about posture and smiles.
“Bigger smile!” he called to me, waving his hands. “Like you’re happy to be here!”
I bared my fangs. “This is my happy face.”
Someone snorted from the crowd next to me. I turned my head just in time to see her.
Hanna.
She was standing a few paces away, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
Her dark green dress brushed the tops of her boots, a few wild curls escaping the braid over her shoulder.
Her eyes—sharp and bright—were fixed right on me, and the amusement there was unmistakable.
She laughed softly when our eyes met, biting her bottom lip like she was trying not to make it worse.
Perfect. Just what I needed—an audience for my humiliation.
I looked back at the camera, muttering under my breath, “Glad someone’s enjoying this.”
Krusk leaned closer. “You mean your witch?”
“She’s not my witch.”
Enka chuckled. “Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that.”
I wasn’t sure at what point my older brother had decided that he was going to start poking fun of my friendship with Hanna, but he’d also brought Enka in on it. And it irked me down to my bones.
The flash went off, bright and blinding. Gabbi cheered. Pen squealed. And somewhere in the back of the hall, Hanna’s laughter carried over the noise—light, easy, and far too distracting. I tugged at my collar again, but this time, it wasn’t the fabric choking me.
After the pictures, I made a beeline for the refreshment tables like a warrior escaping a siege. The food was the only safe ground left—roasted meats, glazed roots, and Pen’s mother’s infamous cookies stacked in a pyramid that looked like a structural hazard waiting to happen.
I’d barely reached for a bottle of ale when I heard her laugh again. It was unfair, honestly. There were a hundred people in the hall, but her voice somehow found me like magick—which, knowing witches, it probably was. Some kind of bewitchment that I was incapable of wresting myself from.
“Nice bowtie,” Hanna said, appearing beside me.
I glanced down at her. She looked far too comfortable here—confident, relaxed, the kind of female who could walk into a room full of strangers and make everyone think they’d known her for years.
Her green dress shimmered faintly when the enchanted lights shifted above us, and her lips were still curved with amusement.
I grunted. “It’s strangling me.”
“That’s because you tied it wrong.”
I frowned. “Enka tied it for me.”
“Then he tied it wrong.” She stepped a little closer, eyes flicking to my collar. “Hold still.”
Before I could protest, she reached up—soft fingers brushing my throat as she straightened the knot. I froze. The scent of her hit me—herbs, rain, and something faintly sweet. My pulse thudded hard enough I was sure she could feel it.
“There,” she said, smoothing the fabric. “Now you look less like you’re being punished.”
“I am being punished,” I said, but it came out rougher than I meant.
She smiled—slow and knowing. “You clean up well, though. Very… respectable.”
I gave her a flat look. “Respectable’s not my goal.”
“Oh? What is your goal, then?”
“To survive this ceremony without committing violence.”
Hanna laughed again, full and warm, and I had to look away before I started smiling like an idiot. She leaned on the table beside me, eyes glinting.
“You know, for someone who insists he doesn’t like attention, you’re doing an excellent job of standing out.”
“I’m not standing out,” I muttered.
“Yes,” she said softly. “You definitely are.”
The way she said it—quiet but certain—did something strange to my chest. I cleared my throat, grabbed a cookie, and stuffed half of it in my mouth just to give myself an excuse not to answer.
She giggled. “Smooth.”
“Can’t talk,” I said around the cookie. “Too busy surviving.”
“Of course.” She tilted her head, eyes twinkling.
I couldn’t help but admire the fact that this beautiful female found joy in everything, when I could barely work up the enthusiasm to tolerate it.
“Well, try not to suffocate before the dancing starts. I might even save you a turn,” she told me with a mischievous wink.
I swallowed—barely. “I don’t dance.”
“Then I’ll teach you.” She said with a shrug before she turned, and disappeared back into the crowd—all sunlight, green silk and witchcraft.
I stared after her, still chewing, then sighed.
Perfect. Just what I needed—a witch that I couldn’t keep my mind off of who had a smile like trouble and no sense of self-preservation.
And apparently, I was going to be forced into a dance lesson in my near future.