Chapter 3 #2
A rough sound escaped him—not quite a laugh, but close. “Ye think too highly of yer status as a burden, princess.”
“Then, why?” she pressed. “You don’t strike me as someone who bends easily to his father’s will.”
Khaeric was silent long enough that she wondered if he would answer at all.
“I volunteered.”
Aeryn blinked. “You what?”
His gaze was steady on hers. “When the treaty terms were bein’ discussed, I volunteered.”
“Why?” The word came out hoarse.
He shifted. “Ye’re surprised.”
“Of course, I’m surprised.” Aeryn pushed herself higher on her elbow. “I was told this was a political necessity. That neither of us had a choice in the matter.”
“Aye, that part’s true enough.” His eyes held hers. “The treaty required a marriage. But it didnae specify which orc would do the marryin’.”
Her thoughts raced as she tried to make sense of his admission.
“I did it for my kin.” His voice was low and unadorned. “For peace.”
Shock drove her upright, the tunic slipping from her shoulder. “You... sacrificed yourself?” The idea felt impossible. “For peace with people who have only ever seen you as monsters?”
His brows rose, eyes narrowing. “Is that so hard to believe?”
“Yes.” Aeryn’s voice was firm. “No one does that. Not in my father’s court. Not anywhere.”
“Then, ye ken different men than I do.” Khaeric shook his head, propping himself on one elbow. “My father fought wars his entire life, and my grandsire before him. Every generation spillin’ blood over the same mountains, the same rivers.” His voice remained even. “I’ve buried enough kin.”
“But why you? Why not send some lesser son, someone... expendable?” Aeryn winced at her own words.
Khaeric’s expression didn’t change. “Had to be me. A lesser orc would’ve been an insult. It would’ve told yer father and the other human kingdoms that we didnae value the peace.” He sat up fully, the furs falling away from his chest.
Aeryn’s gaze dropped, a heaviness settling in her chest. The contrast between them cut with painful clarity.
“I didn’t. Volunteer, I mean.”
“I ken.” His voice softened. “Yer father chose his most disposable daughter.”
Aeryn stared at him, her lips parting. “How did you—” Her voice broke. She swallowed hard and tried again. “How did you know that’s what he did?”
One eyebrow rose. “Because I’ve met the man, lass.”
Her heart hammered against her ribs. Of course. The treaty negotiations. Khaeric would have been there, watching her father weigh her worth like a merchant appraising livestock. “He discussed it?” she whispered. “Openly? In front of you?”
“No’ in those exact words,” Khaeric admitted. “Been at enough councils to ken when someone’s tradin’ off what he thinks holds little value.”
Heat flooded her face—shame or anger, she couldn’t tell which burned hotter. “I see.” She turned away, twisting the fabric between her fingers. “And that didn’t… bother you?”
“No. It didnae bother me.”
Aeryn glanced up. “Why not?” The question came out sharper than she intended, edged with the hurt she’d tried to bury since her father had summoned her to his chambers and informed her of her fate.
“Because I didnae care what he thought of ye,” Khaeric said. “I cared about what ye might become.”
“Become?” Confusion tempered her anger. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“The treaty needs more than words on parchment to hold.” Khaeric’s gaze searched her face for something. “It needs blood. Connection. A bridge between our peoples that cannae be broken by the next king’s whim.”
Her father’s words echoed in her mind. You’ve always craved purpose. “Children,” she whispered. “You mean children.”
Khaeric raised both his hands. “Aye. Eventually.”
Of course. That was one of the purposes of political marriages—to bind bloodlines, to produce heirs who carried the blood of both houses. Aeryn had known this, but facing it now, in this warm chamber carved beneath a mountain, made it suddenly and unavoidably real.
“And you think I’ll make suitable... breeding stock?”
The moment the words left her lips, she flinched. They weren’t meant for him, who had shown her nothing but kindness. They were meant for the court, for her father, for the way she’d been stripped down to usefulness and taught to hide the damage behind sharp edges.
Khaeric’s brow furrowed. He shook his head, his tusks catching the dim light. “That’s no’ what I said.”
She scoffed, drawing the furs tighter around herself. “It’s what you meant.”
“No.” His voice hardened. “That’s no’ what I meant.” Frustration and hurt flickered across his face. “Ye think I see ye as breeding stock?”
The hurt in his expression caught her off guard.
At court, men absorbed insults like armor absorbed blows with cold indifference or calculated retaliation.
They didn’t flinch. Didn’t let emotion crack through their masks.
But Khaeric’s face showed everything: frustration, confusion, a rawness that made her chest tighten.
“What else am I supposed to think?” Her voice rose. “Every story I’ve heard says orcs see women as nothing but breeding stock. You volunteered for this marriage—for heirs.”
“Ye think I asked for this because I wanted heirs?” He laughed—bitter, tired. “Lass, my people only ever have sons.”
Aeryn blinked. “Only sons?”
“Aye.” His jaw tightened.
Aeryn stared at him. “How is that possible?” Her curiosity edged past her anger. “There must be female orcs. Where are they?”
Khaeric’s expression turned rigid. “That’s no’ a discussion for tonight.”
“But—”
“No.” Khaeric’s voice dropped.
“You can’t just make a statement like that and refuse to explain,” Aeryn insisted, frustration building in her chest. “If I’m to live among your people, shouldn’t I understand them?”
His jaw tightened, the muscles beneath his gray skin shifting. “Ye want to understand?” The gentleness disappeared, his expression closing off. “Then, understand this—” He leaned forward. “Ye are the beginning. If ye choose to be.”
The words caught Aeryn off guard. “Don’t pretend I have options,” she said bitterly. “We both know I don’t.”
Khaeric reached over the low chest beside the bed. His hand rummaged briefly before emerging with a small dagger in a leather sheath.
Her heart slammed against her ribs, a wild thing trapped in too small a cage. The room tilted. Every muscle in her body locked, frozen between flight and paralysis.
He was going to hurt her. Of course. She’d pushed too far, questioned too much, insulted him with her careless words about breeding stock.
She’d forgotten where she was, forgotten what he was.
An orc. A warrior who could snap her neck without effort, who had every right under his own laws to punish a disrespectful wife.
Her father’s warnings flooded back with sickening clarity. Savages. Brutal. They’ll turn on you the moment you show weakness.
He settled back against the headboard and held it out to her, hilt first.
“What’s this?” She didn’t reach for it.
“Choice,” he said. “Take it and keep it wi’ ye. If ye want to leave, use it. I’ll no’ stop ye.”
Her mind stuttered, struggling to process what she was seeing. The dagger lay across his palm, handle extended toward her. Not a threat. An offering.
What kind of game is this? Her eyes darted between the blade and his face, searching for the trap. Men didn’t hand weapons to their wives. Certainly not on their wedding night. Certainly not when those wives had just insulted them.
He’s was testing her, surely. Seeing if she’ll take it. If she’d be foolish enough to believe—
But his expression held no cunning. Just that same directness she’d seen since they’d entered this chamber.
“I don’t understand.” The words came out thin, stretched too tight across her confusion. “You expect me to believe you’d let me go?”
“Aye.” His expression remained serious, the dagger steady between them. “A bond built on force will never bring peace. Or the future we need.”
Her fingers twitched.
She dragged the furs up to her chin and turned onto her side. “Keep it,” she said. “I won’t need it tonight.”
A thud resounded as he set it on the nightstand.
“It’s there if ye change yer mind.”
Aeryn closed her eyes, trying to sort through the tangle of emotions that knotted her chest. She had been given a choice.
No one had ever offered her that before. Not truly. Her life had been a series of corridors with only one direction to walk.
But Khaeric had placed a blade between them and told her she could leave. She was lying beside an orc, a creature she’d been taught to fear since childhood, and he was the first person to acknowledge that she might want something different than what had been decided for her.
“Why would you give me a weapon?”
“Because a captive bride will never truly be a mate. And I need a mate, no’ a prisoner.”
When Khaeric’s breathing finally deepened into the steady rhythm of sleep, Aeryn remained awake beside him, her gaze on the ceiling. Her thoughts circled restlessly around his words. Orcs only had sons. Surely, there had to be orc women. Anything else made no sense.
Her gaze drifted to the dagger on the nearby table. Choice, he had called it. She lay there, wondering whether it was a test—and whether he expected her to use it.