Chapter 6
It took some time before Aeryn found the nerve to ask Mael the question that had been bothering her.
Part of her urged silence—dragging it into the open felt like picking at a wound that wasn’t hers—but another part refused to live among Khaeric’s people without understanding the shape of their loss.
She cleared her throat. “Mael… before we begin, may I ask you something?”
He continued unfurling the scroll without looking at her, the parchment whispering against itself. Stone shelves climbed the walls around them, crowded with tightly rolled scrolls that scented the air with dry ink and dust. “Questions are the foundation of learning. Ask.”
“Where are the orc women? I haven’t seen any since I arrived.”
Setting the scroll aside, Mael sank into the seat across from her. “There are no orc women,” he said. “No’ anymore.”
The simple confirmation made the room feel smaller. “How?” she whispered.
Mael folded his arms, expression unreadable. “Because of what happened in the War of Division. Since that day, no orc maid has been born. Our children are born to human women, elven women, or those of mixed blood. And always sons. Never daughters.”
Her gaze dropped to her hands. So the tales were true. Orcs were fallen elves, twisted by envy into something brutish.
“In the generations since the curse, orc males developed certain… compensations,” Mael continued.
“Enhanced speed, heightened scent. Other physiological changes to ensure babes survive when carried by women of other peoples. Advanced lesson. Ye’ll hear more from the healers, should ye ever have need. ”
Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “And some within the clans possess… magical aptitudes. Healers whose hands can steady failing hearts. Stone-tongues, like myself, who draw unwillin’ ears into listening.
” He waved a hand dismissively before reaching for the scroll again. “Shall we begin today’s lessons?”
Aeryn looked up from her hands, pushing away her unease. “I would like that.”
The parchment crackled as Mael spread it across the table between them, revealing densely packed Orkish symbols and characters. “Today, we return to the foundations of clan law,” Mael said. “Recite for me the Four Pillars.”
Aeryn straightened, the words coming easily. “Honor, Blood, Oath, and Stone. Honor governs personal conduct. Blood dictates rights of lineage. Oath binds agreements between orcs, and Stone establishes the relationship between orcs and the mountain.”
“Excellent.” Mael continued to test her understanding of precedent and custom until he seemed satisfied. Then, he offered a small, approving smile. “Ye’ve a keen mind for law, Lady Aeryn. Such a mind serves Clan Druin well.”
Aeryn returned the smile, memories of her elven tutor’s stern lessons flooding back.
Endless hours spent memorizing the intricate branches of elven law while other children played during the summer months in Thiarra.
The elven court had expectations of a member of the royal house of the Silver Bough.
Both her mother and her aunt, Queen Elindra, had insisted she and her sisters study the legal traditions of her mother’s people.
“My knowledge of law comes easier than you might expect,” she admitted. “Though I confess, human legal traditions received far less of my attention growing up.”
“Oh?” Mael’s eyebrows lifted.
“In my father’s court, princesses weren’t expected to understand the law beyond surface customs. But my mother…” Aeryn traced a finger along one of the circular symbols on the parchment. “My mother insisted that I learn elven law.”
Aeryn listened as Mael described the shape of orcish society.
Clan Druin were the thinkers—visionaries, strategists, and educators who kept knowledge alive.
Clan Tarrn stood as the warriors and hunters, protectors of the mountain and its people.
Clan Kairn held the hearth, serving as healers and caretakers, preserving life where others defended it.
By the time Mael concluded the lesson, the chamber door creaked open. Aeryn looked up from the scroll to find Khaeric standing there, his long black hair damp and clinging to his neck and shoulders. “Finished for the day?” he asked.
Mael rose from his seat, gathering the scrolls. “Aye. Yer mate has a fine mind for our ways.” He rolled the parchment and secured it with a leather tie.
“Thank you for today’s lesson, Mael,” Aeryn said with a respectful nod as she gathered her notes, then rose from her seat to join Khaeric.
Khaeric extended his hand, his eyes warming as they met hers. She placed her palm in his, allowing him to lead her from the library and into the corridor beyond.
“Ye’re quiet.” He glanced down at her as they walked. “Did Mael’s lessons wear ye out?”
Aeryn swallowed, steadying herself. “I asked him about something that’s been troubling me since I arrived. About why there are no orc women in the mountain.”
Khaeric’s brow furrowed, eyes narrowing. His grip tightened around her hand. The silence stretched, heavy and strained.
“I—I just,” Aeryn stammered, rushing to fill the quiet. “Mael told me about the War of Division. I didn’t realize the myth was true—that orcs were actually fallen elves.”
Khaeric stopped abruptly and released her hand. His nostrils flared as he drew in a sharp breath, the muscles in his neck standing out as he turned to face her.
“Khaeric?” she ventured, her voice small in the vast stone hallway.
When he still didn’t respond, anxiety twisted in her stomach. “Well, I never thought the stories might be true,” she said. Her fingers twisted together.
Khaeric recoiled as if she’d struck him. “Fallen elves?” His voice was sharp. “Is that what ye think we are?”
Aeryn stepped back, startled. For an instant, she saw it again—the corridor, the sudden blur of motion, the orc crushed against the wall before she’d even drawn breath. The speed. The violence. How easily Khaeric had turned from calm to fury. Her pulse spiked, instinct screaming at her to retreat.
But just as quickly came the rest of the memory: the way he’d released the other orc the moment the threat ended. How he’d turned back to her, voice steady, hands gentle. “I… that’s what Mael explained about the War—”
“No. That isnae what he told ye because that isnae what we are. Aeryn,” Khaeric said. “Whatever ye think he said, ye twisted it. And whatever ye think ye ken about orcs, whatever tales ye were told as a child, they’re lies.”
A chill crept over her skin despite the mountain’s warmth. She’d clearly stumbled into something deeper than she understood. “I don’t— Mael said the curse during the War of Division meant no orc women would be born. That’s why there are none here.”
“Aye, there’s a curse. But we were no’ elves twisted by envy or pride or whatever poison yer father’s scholars fed ye.” He stepped closer, looming over her. “We were ourselves. Always. Our own people wi’ our own ways.”
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I misunderstood what Mael told me.”
His eyes didn’t soften. “Ye didnae misunderstand.” His voice was low and controlled. “Ye heard what ye expected to hear. What yer people have always believed of mine.”
“No, I…” She searched for words. What had Mael actually said? She tried to recall his exact phrasing, but found herself uncertain. “I’m sorry,” she said again, the words thin and inadequate. “Please, help me understand what truly happened. I want to learn.”
Aeryn thought he might refuse. That Khaeric might turn and leave her standing alone in the corridor. Instead, he took her by the elbow and guided her into a secluded alcove.
His expression shifted as he released her, anger folding inward, revealing pain and old grief beneath it.
Khaeric leaned against the stone wall, his arms folded across his chest. “The War of Division,” he began, “wasnae our war. It was a civil war between two elven factions. When the orcs refused to side wi’ either faction, the side that won cursed us as punishment. ”
“But that’s not what the histories say…” Aeryn trailed off, already aware of how hollow her protest sounded.
“Not yer histories, perhaps.” Khaeric’s tone hadn’t lost its edge. “The elven spell-weavers bound us wi’ magic, ensuring that any orc father would sire only sons. Never daughters. And those sons would carry the curse forward, unable to father orc daughters themselves.”
“So, the last generation of orc women…” she said.
“Died out centuries ago,” he finished for her, his voice low.
The enormity of it washed over her. Not merely the absence of orc women, but their deliberate eradication, a punishment designed to thin an entire people until nobody remained. “That’s…” She faltered. “That’s monstrous.”
Khaeric’s eyes darkened. “Aye. And yet yer histories paint us as the monsters.”
Shame burned through Aeryn as half-remembered childhood stories rose to the surface, all lies she had accepted without question. Her shoulders sagged under their weight. How many other truths had been bent? “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. The words were painfully small. “I shouldn’t have assumed…”
“Ye didnae know,” he sighed. “Ye were taught lies from birth. That’s no’ yer fault.”
“So, all these years…” she said, “your people have had to find mates among humans and elves, knowing only sons would be born?”
“It’s why we value our mates so deeply. Why the bond matters.” His gaze lingered on her. “Wi’out ye, wi’out women to bear our sons, we’d have died out long ago.”
Understanding settled with a chill clarity. “That’s why the council was so concerned about our bond,” she said. “It’s not just politics.”
“No,” Khaeric said, his voice rumbling low in his chest. “It’s our future.”
Aeryn thought of the children she had seen playing in the corridors, all boys with varying shades of gray and green skin. Sons who would grow into men, and who would face the same need for mates that haunted the present generation.
“How do you find enough willing mates?” she asked.