Chapter 15 #2
Mael’s hand closed on Aeryn’s arm. “Ye must. For yer sister, if no’ for yerself.”
Aeryn relented, guiding Caeryth toward the library. “Come.”
Mael stepped aside to let them pass, positioning himself between them and the brawl.
Another crash made Aeryn turn before she could cross the threshold. She saw Khaeric pin Dagmar against the wall, forearm braced against his throat. Blood streamed from Dagmar’s nose, but his glare burned bright.
“Ye call me weak?” Khaeric snarled. “I call ye a coward who stirs trouble.”
Aeryn froze at the threshold, torn between safety and the pull of him. Khaeric’s knuckles were bloody, his chest heaving with each breath.
“Ye’ve forgotten what we are,” Dagmar rasped. “What we’ve always been.”
Khaeric leaned closer. “I remember exactly what we are. What we’ve endured. And I’ll no’ let the likes of ye drag us back to endless blood and loss.”
“Clanlord Khaeric!”
“Clanlord Varak,” Khaeric acknowledged, but didn’t release his hold on Dagmar. Blood dripped from his knuckles onto the stone floor. “This warrior saw fit to threaten my mate and her sister.”
Varak’s attention shifted to Aeryn. His eyes lingered on the hand she still held over her stomach before returning to Khaeric. “Release him.”
With a final shove, Khaeric drove Dagmar into the wall and stepped back. His shoulders remained rigid, rage barely contained.
Dagmar sagged against the wall, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. Despite his injuries, his lips curled in satisfaction, as though Khaeric’s fury had proven some point.
Aeryn crossed to Khaeric and touched his arm, half-sheltered behind him. Dagmar’s gaze tracked her.
“My warrior,” Varak said, “has forgotten himself.” He faced Dagmar. “Ye shame Clan Tarrn.”
Dagmar’s smile faltered. “Clanlord, I merely spoke truth—”
“Enough.” The word cracked like a whip. “I dinnae care what ye thought ye were doin’.”
“I spoke no threat, Clanlord,” Dagmar argued, straightening despite the blood on his lip. “I voiced what others fear. This treaty weakens us.”
Varak’s eyes narrowed. “Ye question the treaty?” His voice was dangerously soft. “Ye question the judgment of all the Clanlords and the High Chieftain himself?”
Dagmar’s scowl deepened. “The treaty gives humans free passage along our borders. They build watchtowers while we stand idle.”
“It brings trade where there was none,” Varak said. His voice dropped lower. “It brings peace when there was none. It’ll bring willin’ mates.”
“Look at them,” Dagmar sneered, gesturing at Aeryn and Khaeric. “We’ve been reduced to human pets, bowin’ to kings who laughed as our kin died on their blades.”
Varak moved so fast Aeryn barely saw it. His hand closed around Dagmar’s throat and lifted him until his feet dangled above the floor. “Ye disgrace our clan,” he growled. “Ye shame me before another Clanlord and his mate.”
Dagmar clawed at Varak’s grip.
“Clan Tarrn acknowledges the dishonor,” Varak said, releasing Dagmar and turning to Khaeric. “The warrior will be disciplined.”
“Clan Druin accepts,” Khaeric answered, each word measured.
“We leave now.” Varak nodded once to Khaeric before dragging Dagmar away.
When they were gone, Khaeric’s rigid stance eased. He exhaled, shaking his head as if to clear it of rage, then turned to Aeryn.
“Are ye hurt?” he asked, voice rough.
“No.” Aeryn’s heart still raced. “We’re fine. Mael stepped in before it turned worse.”
Khaeric’s bloody hands lifted toward her, then stilled and dropped to his sides. His knuckles were torn, a bruise already darkening along his jaw.
Aeryn reached up instead, tracing the swelling with careful fingers. “I’m fine,” she repeated, softer now. “We both are.”
He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. When he opened them, the amber had lightened, the primal fury receding like a tide. “I could scent yer fear.”
“I know,” Aeryn said, and pressed her palm against his cheek.
His shoulders loosened. He pressed his forehead to hers and exhaled slowly. “Let’s check on yer sister,” he murmured, pulling back and taking her hand.
They entered the library to find Caeryth rigid in a chair, her face ashen. Mael stood beside her. At the sight of Aeryn, Caeryth shot to her feet.
“Are you mad?” she hissed, but rushed forward to grasp Aeryn’s arms. “You could have been hurt! That... that beast was ready to—” She broke off, her eyes darting to Khaeric.
Aeryn squeezed Caeryth’s hands. “Dagmar is gone. Clanlord Varak took him away.”
“For now,” Caeryth whispered. “But he’ll be back, won’t he? And there are others like him.”
“He will answer to his clan,” Aeryn said steadily. “Not all think as he does.”
“But enough do.” Caeryth’s eyes drifted to Khaeric’s torn knuckles.
Mael stepped closer to Caeryth, hands clasped behind his back. “Do ye have laws in yer kingdom?” he asked. “When someone threatens another, when they break yer rules, do yer courts have means to hold them to account?”
Caeryth blinked. “Of course we do,” she said, stepping away from Aeryn. “We have the king’s justice. Courts. Magistrates who hear evidence and pass judgment.”
“Then, perhaps,” Mael said, “ye might understand that orcs also have systems of justice.”
“Justice?” Caeryth’s voice rose. “That wasn’t justice! That was—”
“That was a Clanlord protectin’ his mate,” Khaeric said, his voice low but firm. “As is my right. As is expected.”
“What Khaeric means,” Mael added, “is that Clanlord Varak took Dagmar to face judgment among Clan Tarrn. Ye have magistrates who hear evidence and pass sentence.” His voice remained even, scholarly. “Orcs have clan councils that do the same. The forms differ, but the principle disnae.”
Her body stayed tense, eyes still wide with lingering fear. “And what does this judgment entail? More... fighting?”
“No.” Khaeric met Caeryth’s gaze. “Clan Tarrn has its own council. Dagmar will answer for his actions.” His voice steadied. “We are no’ savages, Lady Caeryth. Despite what ye may think.”
“It’s not so different from our courts,” Aeryn said softly. “The purpose is the same. To protect those who’ve been wronged.”
Mael nodded. “Fear makes monsters of strangers. It’s a human trait I’ve observed.”
“Mael,” Khaeric warned.
Still, the scholar continued. “Ye’ve spent two weeks in these halls, among those ye were taught to fear. Yet ye walk unharmed. Ye’ve broken bread wi’ orcs, slept beneath our mountain, and breathed our air. The only threat ye’ve faced came from one warrior, and he was immediately held accountable.”
Caeryth’s lips parted as if to argue, but no words came.
Khaeric cleared his throat, wincing as he flexed his injured hand. “Ye both need rest. It’s been a long mornin’.” He looked at Aeryn. “Take yer sister back to yer chambers. I need to see Brenn about…” He gestured vaguely at his bruised knuckles.
Aeryn nodded.
They left the library together. Caeryth walked more slowly now, her silence thoughtful. “The scholar,” she said at last. “He has a point, doesn’t he?”
“Mael usually does,” Aeryn replied, meeting her eyes.
Once they reached the branching corridors that led to their chambers, Caeryth stopped. “I need to think about what happened today,” she said quietly. “About what I saw. What I learned.”
Aeryn watched her sister disappear down the corridor, then turned toward her chamber. Khaeric’s bloodied knuckles lingered in her mind. The raw fury in his eyes when he’d slammed Dagmar against the wall.
The door opened quietly. She looked up as Khaeric entered. The bruise along his jaw had deepened purple-black.
He shut the door and, for a long moment, stood there, shoulders rising and falling with each breath. “Brenn says the knuckles will heal clean,” he said at last. “No lastin’ damage.”
“I’m glad.” Aeryn crossed the space between them. Her fingers trembled as she took his hands between her palms.
Khaeric’s jaw tightened. “I lost control.” The admission was blunt. “He provoked me, and I gave in to rage.”
“You protected us.” Warmth seeped through the bandages. “Dagmar threatened Caeryth. Threatened me. What else would you have done?”
“I should’ve kept my head.” Khaeric’s fingers curled within her grasp.
“You did what the moment demanded.” Aeryn pressed closer, willing him to meet her eyes. “Dagmar wouldn’t have stopped with words. He wanted a confrontation.”
His gaze finally lifted to hers. Conflict warred behind those amber depths. The fear that he’d confirmed every human suspicion of orc savagery.
“When I saw him over ye...” Khaeric’s voice dropped. “When I scented yer fear... There was only red. Only the need to make him bleed for it.”
Aeryn brought one of his hands to her lips, pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles. “I know.”
His other hand rose to cup her face, thumb brushing her cheek. “Did he touch ye? Harm ye?”
“No.” She leaned into his palm. “Mael stepped in. Then you.”
Khaeric’s gaze dipped to her stomach. “Mael.” The name came with grim approval. “I’ll need to thank him properly.”
“He was unnervingly calm about the whole thing.”
A huff of breath that might have been laughter left him. “Aye, that’s Mael. Could be standin’ in a burnin’ hall and he’d ask if anyone had documented similar fires.”
Aeryn slipped her arms around Khaeric’s waist and rested her cheek against his chest.
“I need ye to understand somethin’.” His accent thickened. “What ye saw today—that rage—it’s part of me. I master it most times. But when ye’re threatened...” His eyes narrowed. “There’s no mastery then. Only the need to protect what’s mine.”
Aeryn gazed up at him and smiled. “Thank you,” she said. “For protecting us. For protecting me.”
She held his gaze, willing him to see what she had chosen—what she kept choosing
“Always,” Khaeric murmured. “I’ll always protect ye.”