Chapter 4 #2
“Aeryn, this is Mael of Clan Druin, my clan-brother. Scholar to the clans. Pain in my arse since we were orclings,” Khaeric said, returning with two wooden platters balanced easily in his hands.
He set one before Aeryn—heaped with roasted meat, dark bread, and roots covered in thick gravy—then the other before himself.
Mael inclined his head. “I assure ye, princess, I am vastly more pleasant than he suggests.”
Aeryn blinked, then looked down at the overflowing plate before her. “This is… for me?”
“Aye,” Khaeric said, settling beside her. “Ye’ll need yer strength.”
“I can’t possibly eat all this,” she said. The orcs around her seemed to have no trouble with their similarly sized portions.
Khaeric playfully bumped her shoulder. “Eat what ye can, lass. No one’s askin’ ye to match an orc’s belly.”
She began with small bites, then surrendered to her appetite. By the time she set down her fork, her stomach felt uncomfortably full. “Do your people always finish their plates?”
He looked up from his own plate. “Aye. In the mountain, nothin’s wasted. Food is life. To leave it is to show disrespect for what sustains us.”
In her father’s court, leaving food had never been an issue. Servants simply whisked away whatever remained. “Oh.” Aeryn glanced at the half-full plate. She had already eaten more than she was accustomed to.
“I didn’t realize.” She picked up her fork again, cutting a small piece of meat. Her stomach protested, but she forced herself to take another bite.
Khaeric leaned closer, his voice low. “Ye dinnae need to make yerself sick over it.”
Her brows drew together. “I don’t want to offend anyone.”
Mael watched the exchange with interest. “Offense comes from waste,” he said. “No’ restraint. Ye’re doing just fine.”
Khaeric nodded. “Aye, I overfilled ye.” He pulled her plate toward him and finished it. “That’s the proper way to make sure naught goes to waste,” he said, wiping his hands. “And next time, ye tell me when I’m feedin’ ye like a soldier, aye?” He bumped her shoulder again, a small smile lingering.
“I will,” Aeryn said smiling shyly at him.
Mael glanced between them, lingering on where their shoulders still touched. “Well,” he said, his voice dry with amusement. “That’s the most domestic I’ve seen him in his life.”
Aeryn pulled back from Khaeric, suddenly aware of how close they’d been sitting, how natural it had felt.
Khaeric shot Mael a warning look. “Careful, brother.”
“I’m simply observin’,” Mael said as a grin formed. “It’s a scholar’s duty to record notable events. And this—” He gestured between them. “This is decidedly notable.”
“What’s notable,” Khaeric said, “is that ye’ve naught better to do than sit here givin’ me grief.”
Mael’s expression remained placid, though amusement danced in his eyes. “On the contrary. I’ve a great many better things to do. I simply choose to prioritize this.”
Aeryn bit her lip as a giggle escaped her. The sound startled her almost as much as it seemed to startle the two orcs. Both Khaeric and Mael turned to look at her, surprise flickering across their features.
“Ah!” Mael said with a sense of achievement. “She finds me amusin’. How delightful.”
Khaeric shook his head. “She disnae find ye amusin’, brother. That was a laugh of pity.”
“Pity,” Mael repeated, his tone flat.
“Aye. Poor Mael, sittin’ there thinkin’ he’s clever.” Khaeric leaned back, crossing his arms. “She’s too polite to tell ye otherwise.”
“How kind of ye to speak for her, Khaeric. I’m certain the princess is incapable of formin’ her own opinions.”
“I wasnae speakin’ for her,” Khaeric said. “I was savin’ ye from embarrassment.”
“Embarrassment?” Mael’s brow lifted. “How thoughtful. Though I confess, I’m unclear on what precisely should embarrass me. The princess laughed. That’s a victory in my ledger.”
“Yer ledger’s full of losses, brother,” Khaeric retorted. “Dinnae mistake charity for victory.”
“Charity,” Mael mused. “Is that what we’re callin’ it when someone finds me more entertainin’ than ye?”
“Aye,” Khaeric said, leaning forward with a grin that exposed more of his tusks. “Because she’s too kind to say otherwise.”
“Aye?” Mael turned his attention to her. “Is that true, princess? Ye’re too kind to say otherwise?”
Before Aeryn could formulate an answer, Khaeric stood abruptly. “Come along, then, lass,” he said, extending a hand toward her. “Time we headed to the Council Chambers. Cannae keep the elders waitin’.”
Aeryn glanced at Mael, uncertain if she should answer his question, but Khaeric’s hand was already waiting.
“How convenient,” Mael said, his tone light, “that duty calls precisely when the conversation turns inconvenient.”
“Aye.” Khaeric kept his grip on Aeryn’s hand as he guided her away from the table. “The council disnae wait on anyone’s convenience, brother. Ye ken that well enough.”
“Ye’re runnin’ away,” Mael said, standing as well. He watched Khaeric with equal parts amusement and exasperation.
Khaeric didn’t slow. “I’m no’ runnin’. I’m departin’. Wi’ my mate.”
“Ye’re retreatin’,” Mael called after them.
Aeryn glanced back over her shoulder in time to see Mael settling into his seat with a satisfied smirk. “He does that on purpose,” she said as Khaeric led her through the archway and into the corridor beyond.
“Aye. He’s been doin’ it since we were lads. Thinks he’s clever.”
“He is clever,” Aeryn said.
“Aye, he is. Which is why ye’re no’ allowed to take his side,” Khaeric said, the corner of his mouth twitching. “That’s the first rule of our marriage.”
A smile form on her face despite herself. “I wasn’t aware there were rules.”
“Oh, aye. Dozens of ’em.” He guided her around a corner. “First rule: no takin’ Mael’s side when he’s bein’ insufferable. Second rule: always tell me when I’m overfeedin’ ye like a wee orcling. Third—”
“How convenient that you’re making these up as we go.”
“I’m no’ makin’ them up.” He paused, glancing down at her. “Aye, I’m makin’ them up. And ye’re no’ arguin’, which means ye’re agreein’ to all of them.”
“That’s not—” Aeryn stopped, pressing her lips together as another laugh bubbled up. This one came freely, unguarded, and the sound of it rang through the corridor.
Khaeric stopped walking.
“What?” she asked, suddenly self-conscious. Had she done something wrong? The laugh had been too loud, perhaps, too unladylike. Her father would have—
“Do that again.”
Aeryn blinked. “I—what?”
“That sound. Yer laugh.” His thumb brushed across her knuckles. “Do it again.”
Aeryn stared up at him, her mouth opening slightly before she caught herself. Was he serious? “I can’t simply laugh on command,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips. “If you want to hear it again, you’ll have to make me laugh.”
The corner of his mouth curved slowly upward. “A challenge, then.”
“If you like.” When had her voice started sounding like that—playful, almost flirtatious?
“I’ll keep that in mind, lass.” He tugged her forward again. “Come on. The council’s waitin’, and my father disnae take kindly to tardiness.”
They arrived at the carved stone doors of the Council Chambers. He pulled one open and stepped aside for her to enter first.
Inside, Korrath sat at the head of a long table, the four clan elders arrayed on either side. Together, they served as the mountain’s keepers of law and the High Chieftain’s advisors when judgment required more than strength.
“Sit,” Korrath said, his voice filling the chamber.
Aeryn obeyed. Khaeric took the place beside her, shoulders squared, jaw set.
Korrath continued, “Ye both ken why ye’re called. This union binds more than two bodies. It binds our clan to the treaty yer king forged.”
The High Chieftain’s eyes shifted to Aeryn. “The Great Library holds records of all our laws, our bloodlines, our customs. Ye’ll study them under Mael’s oversight.”
“Yes, High Chieftain.” Aeryn inclined her head.
Another elder drew in a slow breath, his nostrils flaring. “The bond has no’ begun.”
The words meant nothing to Aeryn. She glanced at Khaeric, searching his face for guidance, for any sign of what the elder implied. Khaeric’s eyes closed briefly, as if he’d been expecting this. “He means the mating scent,” he said quietly.
The elder glanced between them. “Aye. There’s no trace yet. The pairing is formal, but no’ sealed.”
Her brows rose. “You can smell that?”
“Aye,” the elder said, without shame or cruelty. “Scent tells what words will hide.”
Korrath’s gaze remained steady. “Ye’ll come to understand in time. The bond’s absence is no shame. But its presence will seal the treaty in flesh as well as word.”
Khaeric’s hand tightened on the table’s edge. “In time,” he said. “When she’s ready. No sooner.”
Korrath’s mouth pulled into a grim line. “Readiness is no’ always the same as willingness, my son.” His stare did not soften. “The clans will be watchin’. They’ll want proof this union’s more than talk. A belly swells faster than trust.”
Aeryn’s fingers twisted in her dress as she sighed. “Then, I will do what I must.”
A low hum of approval came from one of the elders. “Spine in her, at least.”
Korrath rose. “Then, it’s set.” He looked at his son. “Build the bond.”
Chairs scraped against stone as the elders stood. The meeting was over.
As they left the chamber, Aeryn stayed close to Khaeric, trying to fix each turn of the winding passage in her memory. The mountain branched like a city carved inward, its light dim despite the glowing crystal clusters. Her half-elven eyes adjusted easily to the shadows.
“How does a mating bond lead to me being scented as yours?” Aeryn asked. It was clearly nothing like her understanding of marriage.
Khaeric’s stride faltered. He looked at her, then looked away. For the first time since she’d met him, uncertainty crossed his face. “That’s…” He stopped, exhaling slowly as they walked. “Ye’ll find the information improper, by yer standards.”