Chapter 13
“You just left!” Caeryth’s voice shook. “No goodbye! No word. Then, nothing. You sent no letters, no messages!”
Aeryn sank beside the cot. “Father wouldn’t allow a farewell. And I wrote! Multiple times! None were answered.”
Caeryth blinked. “Letters?” She shook her head. “We received nothing.”
Aeryn’s stomach dropped. “Nothing?”
“Nothing,” Caeryth’s voice cracked. “Why do you think Mother sent me here?”
“What?”
Caeryth nodded faintly against the pillow. “She begged Father to come herself, but he refused. Said the journey was too dangerous. So, I came instead.” Her gaze shifted toward Khaeric.
Khaeric straightened in the doorway. “If Garran hadn’t found ye—”
Caeryth’s head snapped toward him. “I didn’t come for you.”
He inclined his head, unbothered. “Aye. But ye came through our land. Makes ye my concern.”
“Sister, enough,” Aeryn said, the words gentle but firm. “He’s not your enemy.”
Her sister stared at her. “Not my—Aeryn, you sound as if you believe that.”
“I do.”
“You can’t possibly mean that.”
Aeryn’s jaw tightened. “Would you rather I curse them after Father traded me like a prized mare to seal his treaty?”
“That’s not—” Caeryth’s voice wavered. “He did what he had to. The realm was bleeding after the border wars. The council said this alliance was the only way to secure peace. You were chosen because you could—”
“Because I was the daughter he could afford to lose,” Aeryn snapped.
Her sister’s face crumpled. “He said you wanted to leave without saying goodbye.”
Aeryn gave a brittle laugh. “Of course he did.” She rose. “He ordered me to go. And when I asked to see you, he claimed you wanted nothing to do with me. He made sure I walked out alone.”
Caeryth went still, stricken. Her gaze dropped, taking in her sister’s form as if seeing her anew.
The princess she remembered—draped in silk and gilded thread, the practiced composure—was gone.
In her place stood a woman clad in leather and fur; her arms, legs, and even her midriff bare.
Her hair hung loose and braided with bone and leather cords.
“You…” Her sister’s voice faltered. “You look like them.”
Aeryn blinked. “I look like myself.”
Caeryth’s gaze fixed on Aeryn’s shoulder, where the tunic slipped low enough to reveal the faint crescent of teeth against her skin. Horror broke across her face.
“Gods, Aeryn! Tell me you haven’t—” She stopped herself, then screamed the rest. “Tell me you haven’t lain with one of them!”
The healers flinched, exchanging uneasy glances. One muttered something in Orkish and stepped back.
Heat crept into Aeryn’s cheeks. “Caeryth—”
“Answer me!”
“I’m his mate.”
Caeryth recoiled. “Mate?” The word came out strangled. “You mean wife? Gods, Aeryn, he’s not even—”
“Human? Elven?” Aeryn cut in. “You can say it.”
Caeryth’s lips parted, but no sound came. Tears brightened her eyes. “This can’t be real.”
“What part troubles you, sister?” Aeryn stepped closer, her voice sharp with anger. “That he treats me with more respect than Father ever did? That he listens when I speak?”
“That he marked you!” Caeryth spat. “Like an animal! You call that love?”
Khaeric’s jaw went rigid, his hands curling into fists.
Pain flickered in his eyes, raw and unguarded, before anger sealed it away.
“Ye call a bondscar filth as if I forced her,” he said, his accent thickening.
“Yet ye’ve no trouble lettin’ men in silk collars tradin’ their daughters for crowns.
Tell me, lass, how many times has yer father sold one of ye for an alliance? ”
“Khaeric,” Aeryn warned.
“Ye speak of beasts and shame while ye sit in a court raised on blood and lies. At least our bargains are honest.”
Caeryth’s shock hardened into fury. “How dare—”
“Stop it!” Aeryn’s voice rang out through the chamber, sharp enough to still even the healers. She spun on Khaeric. “You don’t get to speak to her like that! She’s my sister. If anyone says such things to her, it’s me.”
His jaw flexed, but then his gaze dropped to her clenched fists, to the hurt beneath her anger. He exhaled sharply. “Aye. Then ye best keep her from callin’ ye beast’s bride.”
Aeryn shoved his chest. “Out.”
He held his ground for a heartbeat. Then, he stepped back under her glare.
“Khaeric.” Her voice was quieter. “Out.”
Their eyes locked, but he turned and strode from the room. The door slammed against the stone.
“Caeryth.” She paused. “You must stop calling them beasts.”
Her sister flinched.
“They are people. No more monstrous than the courtiers who smile while they spill blood across marble floors.”
Caeryth’s lips trembled. “You defend them even now. After everything they’ve done… after what he’s done to you.”
Aeryn frowned. “He’s done nothing I didn’t choose.”
“Choose?” Caeryth’s eyes were wide and wet. “You mean you shared his bed.”
Aeryn’s silence was enough.
Caeryth recoiled, her hand flying to her mouth. “Gods, sister. What have you done?”
“I’ve lived. I’ve found someone who treats me as an equal, who sees me as more than a treaty’s price. That’s what I’ve done.”
Caeryth shook her head. “And what happens when you carry his child?” The question broke on a near sob. “What then, Aeryn? What will you tell the world when you’re heavy with—” She faltered, swallowing hard. “—orc spawn?”
For a heartbeat, the room narrowed around the word.
“When that happens,” she whispered. “I’ll love my child.”
“You can’t truly believe that.” Caeryth stared at her sister as though she were seeing a stranger.
Aeryn’s eyes softened. “I didn’t at first. But I learned. I’ve learned so much. I hope you will too.”
Caeryth’s lips parted, but no protest came. Aeryn settled beside the cot again, her hand hovering above her sister’s trembling fingers. “Rest. You don’t have to understand today.”
Caeryth turned away, tears slipping free. “You sound like Mother.”
Aeryn stood to leave. “Good. Then, at least one of us was listening. I’ll return to check on you later.”
Outside, Khaeric stood opposite the door like a sentry, his arms folded tight across his chest.
“You shouldn’t have spoken to her like that,” Aeryn said before he could. “I won’t allow it.”
His expression remained hard. “I’ll no’ have her speakin’ as if I took ye against yer will.”
“If there’s a fight to be had with my blood, I’ll have it.” Aeryn stepped close enough to force his attention from the door to her.
“Do ye ken what would’ve happened if I had forced ye?” he growled, advancing. “I would be cast out. That is what defilement is to us.”
“She’s been taught these things her whole life.”
“And I was raised hearin’ it. In every human settlement. I’ll no’ hear it in my own mountain.”
“And I won’t have you making it worse by behaving exactly as she expects!” Aeryn snapped.
Khaeric’s eyes flashed. “I’m defendin’ what’s mine,” he insisted, his voice dropping to a rumble. “Ye’d have me stand silent while she calls ye—”
“Yes,” Aeryn cut in, closing the distance until she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. “That’s exactly what I expect. Because she doesn’t know any better. And she’s my sister.”
“She called ye beast-marked.” Pain flared in his eyes. “Like ye’ve been defiled.”
“I know,” she said firmly. “But it’s my pain to bear. My sister to teach.”
The tension in his shoulders ebbed. He searched her face. “Ye’re right,” he admitted softly. His hand rose to cup her cheek, thumb brushing her skin. “But I’ll no’ let her hurt ye, Aeryn. Not even wi’ words.”
She leaned into his touch, the warmth of his palm steadying her. “She needs time. The same time you gave me.”
He exhaled. “Aye, I understand. Time. Patience.” His thumb traced one last path along her cheekbone before his hand fell away.
“Thank you.”
Khaeric shifted. “I’ll place a watch on the hall. Quiet lads, no armor clatter. Better she sees calm than steel.”
The corridor fell quiet, distant sounds echoing from deeper within the mountain. Aeryn leaned back against the stone wall. Her hands trembled, had been trembling since Caeryth screamed about “orc spawn.”
Khaeric studied her. “Walk wi’ me?” His voice was gentler. “I want to show ye somethin’.”
She nodded.
They left the hush of the healing halls and climbed a narrow stair spiraling upward, where the air grew cool and carried the scent of soil. At the top, a stone arch opened onto a small terrace carved into the mountain’s face—half-roofed, half-open to a pale wedge of sky.
Stopping in the archway, Aeryn stilled. Before her stretched orderly rows of hardy herbs and vegetables in carved stone troughs: curling mountain kale, broadleaf sage, roots thick as wrists, and pale-stemmed vines heavy with the sweet pods the orcs favored.
At the center stood a statue: Druin with his palm to the earth, head bowed as if listening. Beside him, Serathen with the swell of her carved belly. Someone had tucked fresh heather into the folds of her stone robe.
Khaeric moved to the statue and knelt, fingers combing through the damp soil. “I come here when councils and quarrels grow loud in my head. It reminds me what prayer’s for.”
Aeryn stepped further in, studying how neatly the garden was kept, how even the smallest sprigs had space to breathe. “I didn’t expect crops here…”
“This is just one patch. We’ve root cellars, terraces, mushroom caverns, even heat pits for winter greens. Ye’ve seen the feasts. Did ye think all that came from trade?”
She shook her head. “I assumed you hunted. Traded for the rest.”
“We do,” Khaeric said. “But trade’s a risk, and huntin’s no promise.
” He gestured to the troughs, where water trickled along narrow grooves cut into the stone.
“These do not. When storms close the passes, they keep bellies full. Druin taught our kin to plant in stone. Rock holds heat, and the veins carry water.”
He brushed a leaf. “The first frost sweetens these. They’ll climb the walls ’til the snow lies thick. Orcs’ll eat them raw, roast ‘em wi’ salt, or dry ‘em and grind ‘em into flour.”