Chapter 9
She knew the outfit was acceptable. Essa wore similar garments, the leather clinging to her curves without apology or shame. Odelina’s pieces probably revealed just as much skin, if not more.
“These seem too revealing.” Aeryn tilted her head at her reflection, tugging at the leather garment.
The top clung to her, barely covering her breasts, its curved edges resting just below their swell, her midriff left bare.
The skirt hugged her hips, and the slits on the side rose to the top of her thighs.
“Ye look like one of us. These clothes mark ye as part of the clan now. Ye’ll draw far fewer stares in this than in those court gowns.” He stood behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders.
She could not deny the practicality. Malkor’s garments suited the mountain’s climate. “You truly believe these garments will help me fit in?” she asked.
“Aye.” His hands slid from her shoulders to rest at her waist. “Ready for the training yard?”
Her eyes widened. “Now?”
Khaeric nodded. “I train most mornin’s. Thought ye might want to see what that’s like.”
She straightened her shoulders, trying to appear more confident. “I—yes, of course.”
They left their chambers and moved deeper into the Hall of Druin. Every clan kept its own hall within the mountain, self-contained with living quarters, shared and private sleeping rooms, public baths, a prayer chamber, a great hall for gatherings, a communal kitchen, and a modest training arena.
As they walked, Aeryn drew fewer stares than in her first days. No one lingered over the skin she showed. No wandering hands. Only quick, practical glances before attention returned to work. The orcs treated her body as a fact, not an invitation.
The training arena opened before them. The training yard was full of orcs from Clan Druin moving through drills, some sparring with wooden weapons, others lifting stone weights or running coordinated exercises.
“Come. There are a few ye should meet. Clan mates.” Khaeric led her toward a pair who had paused their training. “Thorn.” He gestured toward a tall orc with dark gray skin, then to a slightly shorter, stockier one at his side. “And his blood-brother, Riven.”
Thorn inclined his head. “The mountain-wife.” He pressed a fist to his chest. “Welcome to the clan.”
Riven grinned, mirroring the gesture. “We’ve been curious about ye.” His accent was thick, his common tongue rougher.
Aeryn smiled. “It’s an honor to meet you both.”
“Ye can watch, if ye like. Learn our ways.” He steered her toward a raised platform, bordered by a low wall and lined with benches. From there, the full span of the arena lay open below.
“I’d like that.” She nodded and settled onto the bench, folding her hands in her lap.
He shot her a wink before turning away, broad shoulders rolling as he descended the steps two at a time. At the edge of the pit, Khaeric stripped off his tunic and tossed it aside.
The other orcs greeted him with nods and forearm clasps, then withdrew to form a loose ring around the arena floor. Khaeric and Thorn stepped into the center and began circling each other.
Leaning forward, Aeryn watched them settle—arms raised, weight balanced on the balls of their feet.
The dark-skinned orc nodded before lunging forward.
Khaeric pivoted, catching Thorn’s arm and turning the motion into a throw.
Thorn twisted mid-air and landed upright with surprising grace for one so large.
They collided with a crack like thunder, grappling for leverage.
Thorn was fast, faster than his size suggested, but Khaeric matched him move for move, his gaze never leaving his opponent.
When Thorn charged again, Khaeric sidestepped and hooked a foot behind his ankle.
Both crashed to the ground, dust bursting from the packed earth.
Aeryn gasped as Khaeric took a heavy hit to the jaw.
Khaeric’s head turned with the impact. Then he rolled his neck and stepped forward. They surged together again, neither yielding.
Khaeric flipped Thorn onto his back. Thorn twisted, nearly breaking free, but Khaeric’s forearm braced against his throat while his knee pinned Thorn’s arm. For several tense heartbeats, Thorn struggled, muscles quivering with effort. Then, he tapped the ground twice with his free hand.
The orcs erupted in cheers and stomping feet as Khaeric released his hold, offering Thorn a hand. The two clasped forearms, grinning with genuine respect.
Thorn rubbed his shoulder. “Almost had ye that time.”
“Aye, almost.” Khaeric turned and jogged toward the wall below her, chest heaving from exertion, sweat gleaming on his skin. “Will ye reward yer mate’s victory, princess?” he called up to her. “A kiss, perhaps?”
Heat rushed to Aeryn’s cheeks as she leaned over the ledge. “Would that be proper, my lord?” she called back.
Her hair cascaded forward as she bent, and his grin widened. His gaze held hers, challenging and warm. Aeryn closed the distance and pressed her lips to his. She pulled back, only to find his hand had risen to cradle the back of her head, holding her in place.
“Is that all ye got, princess?”
Aeryn captured his mouth again. His tusks brushed her cheeks. Around them, the orcs erupted into hoots and stamping feet, their approval echoing off the stone walls.
She pulled away at last. “Was that suitable, my lord?”
“More than suitable, princess. Though ye might need more practice.” His eyes darkened to burnished gold, fixed on her with an intensity that tightened her stomach.
Aeryn’s eyes widened at his teasing, her lips parting in surprise. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, scoffing.
Khaeric grinned, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips before he rubbed a hand over his face. Then, he turned and strode back to the center of the arena. The circle shifted, widening as Riven stepped forward to challenge Khaeric.
Thorn climbed the steps to the viewing platform and sat beside her. “Ye honor him. Such a gift makes him stand taller among his brothers.”
Aeryn frowned slightly. “Gift?”
“The kiss.” Thorn nodded toward the arena, where Khaeric and Riven circled each other. “It made him proud to be rewarded so openly by his mate. The clan sees ye acceptin’ him.”
Her eyes dropped to Khaeric, who locked arms with Riven. “Why are such gestures encouraged?” Aeryn asked.
Thorn glanced at her. “Shows the bond is strong. Shows ye claim him as much as he claims ye.”
Aeryn turned the words over in her mind. Claim him. The kiss had been spontaneous, driven by the warmth in Khaeric’s eyes and the easy affection in his teasing. The concept of claiming felt foreign. Among her own people, a woman didn’t claim her husband; she was claimed, given, bestowed.
The affection had been welcomed, even celebrated. She liked the way he looked at her when she touched him. That she could give without being diminished. That boldness here wasn’t a transgression.
A collective gasp rose from the crowd as Riven landed a solid blow to Khaeric’s ribs. Khaeric stumbled a step, his face tightening, but didn’t fall. Instead, he pivoted with the motion, ducking under Riven’s next strike.
Swiftly, Khaeric dropped low, sweeping Riven’s legs from beneath him. As Riven fell, Khaeric lunged forward and pinned him flat. They strained for several heartbeats before Riven thumped the ground twice. “Yield.”
Khaeric released him and rose, extending a hand. Riven clasped it and allowed himself to be pulled upright. “Well fought.” Khaeric clapped Riven on the shoulder. The crowd roared, stamping feet and pounding fists against chests in approval.
Aeryn felt a smile spread across her face. “He fights well,” she said.
“Among the best in the clan. Only his father bests him consistently,” Thorn said, pride clear in his expression.
Below, Khaeric clasped forearms with several warriors, accepting their congratulations.
“Will he fight again?” she asked.
“Two victories are enough for one mornin’. Shows strength wi’out seeming greedy for glory.” Thorn glanced at her. “Would ye like to try?”
She laughed. “Me? Fight an orc?”
“No’ fight,” Thorn clarified, his lips twitching. “Train. Learn to defend yerself. All mates should ken how to guard their own skin when their partner isnae near.”
Aeryn blinked. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“Start small. Quick steps. Turn an attacker’s weight against them.” His gaze drifted to the arena where Khaeric was retrieving his discarded tunic. “Ask yer mate. He’s a patient teacher.”
Khaeric approached the low wall, hair damp with sweat, a roguish grin on his lips. “Come down, princess.” He lifted his arms toward her.
The drop was short, perhaps her own height, yet her heart fluttered as she glanced toward the steps. “I can take the stairs.”
“Ye could.” Khaeric’s grin widened. “But I’d rather catch ye.”
Thorn’s voice cut through her hesitation. “Go on, lass.”
Drawing a deep breath, Aeryn swung her leg over the stone ledge and let herself slide. His strong hands closed around her waist, his fingers splaying over her bare skin.
“You’re just showing off,” she muttered.
“Perhaps.” He laughed softly and lowered her until her feet touched the ground, but his hands lingered at her waist, keeping her close.
“You’re still sweaty.” She wrinkled her nose.
“Aye.” Khaeric released her. “There’s a place close to here. A pool fed by the springs. The water’s cool and clear. Care for a swim?”
Aeryn hesitated, glancing at the leather clothing that barely covered her. “Yes. A swim sounds... refreshing.”
“Good.” His face brightened, unguarded pleasure softening his features. He took her hand, his palm enveloping hers. “This way.”
They wound through corridors with the distant sound of rushing water echoing faintly at first. The passage opened into a vast chamber where a shimmering pool of water stretched into the distance.
Aeryn had barely stepped toward the water before Khaeric swept her off her feet. “What are you—”