Chapter 17
Aeryn lay in bed, savoring the quiet. Faint dizziness had chased her all afternoon, though she’d dismissed it as nerves. Down the hall, her sister, mother, and the Queen’s personal guard occupied neighboring rooms. This wing of the mountain belonged to Khaeric.
By rank, he claimed a private quarter within Beinn Ork—a section reserved for the Clanlord, his household, and those under his protection. Now it housed not only him and Aeryn, but the guests she’d never thought to see here.
When Khaeric entered, his brows furrowed. “Yer pale,” he said, closing the door. “Feeling well?”
“Just tired,” she said. “It’s been quite a day.”
Khaeric crossed the room in three strides, knelt beside the bed to press a hand against her forehead, then rose and strode to the door, yanking it open. “Garran,” he called, his voice carrying down the corridor. “Bring Brenn here.”
“Khaeric, I’m fine,” she protested. “It’s just been a long day with my mother’s arrival and—”
“Yer warm and ye carry my son,” he said, cutting her off as he returned to her side.
Aeryn reached for his hand, drawing him closer. “I’m just tired.”
But Khaeric remained unconvinced. The door opened a few minutes later as Brenn entered, his satchel slung over one shoulder. “What troubles her?”
“Nothing ails me,” Aeryn protested.
Brenn ignored her protests. He placed his bag on the bedside table and began his examination, checking her eyes, feeling her pulse at wrist and throat, pressing against her abdomen. “When did ye last eat?”
“Midday. Bread and stew.”
“And it stayed down?”
“Yes.”
Brenn nodded, continuing his work. “Exhaustion, naught more. The babe draws strength from her, and today’s excitement has drained what little she had to spare.” He paused. “She needs strength. The babe draws more from her. She would benefit from yer seed if she is willin’ to take it.”
“What?” she sputtered. “You can’t possibly mean—”
Brenn’s expression remained impassive. “No’ in the manner ye’re thinking, unless ye want it in that manner. Consumin’ the seed provides nourishment that helps wi’ the growth of orc babes. Pregnant females who consume it show less fatigue, and their children grow stronger.”
“How is that even possible? How could consuming…” She gestured vaguely, heat warming her cheeks. “How does it help?”
Brenn measured herbs into a small bowl, unperturbed by her embarrassment. “The healers believe the males’ bodies adapted to compensate. Nature seeks balance, even where magic has intervened.”
“Changed?”
“Aye. The males’ bodies adapted. Their seed became more potent, carryin’ properties that help women survive pregnancy wi’ orc children.
” He finished grinding the herbs and poured water from a small flask, stirring the mixture.
“The male body compensates for what was lost when the females were taken.”
“So this is... common practice?” Aeryn glanced at Khaeric, whose face remained impassive.
“Yes.” Brenn handed her the mixture. “Drink this. It will help wi’ the fatigue, but it isnae as effective as what I suggested earlier.” He began packing his instruments. “The choice is yers, of course.”
“Ye dinnae have to,” Khaeric said, searching her face. “There are other ways to help yer recovery.”
“I would recommend both. The herbs will ease some symptoms, but they cannae provide what the seed can,” Brenn added as he fastened his satchel.
“Ensure she drinks that at least. And food. More meat than she’s accustomed to.
Her body needs strength.” He glanced at Aeryn rather than Khaeric.
“Only an option I give to any woman carryin’ an orc babe. Ye decide what sits well wi’ ye.”
When the door closed behind the healer, silence stretched between them. Aeryn sipped the bitter herbal mixture, grimacing. “I’m not afraid,” she said at last, setting the empty cup aside. “Just... surprised. There’s so much I still don’t know about your people.”
Khaeric’s thumb traced circles on the back of her hand. “Our ways seem strange to ye. I understand that.”
“It’s just... unexpected.” Her free hand drifted to her belly, cradling the small swell. “I want to be strong for him. If it will help our son grow strong, I’ll try what Brenn suggested.”
Khaeric’s eyes widened. “Ye’re certain?”
“I’ve come this far, haven’t I? I’ve accepted so much that once seemed impossible.” Aeryn gave him a small smile. “What’s one more strange custom if it means our child will be healthier?”
The tension eased from Khaeric’s shoulders. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers. “Would ye want to try now?”
Aeryn swallowed, her throat dry. The idea both terrified and intrigued her. “Yes.”
Khaeric rose from beside the bed. His fingers worked at the fastenings, loosening them and sliding the leather down his thighs. She’d seen him naked before, of course.
But this was different.
This wasn’t about pleasure or connection. This was about nourishment, about strength for their child. She watched his hand wrap around his shaft, beginning slow, deliberate strokes.
Medicinal properties. In his seed. The concept seemed absurd, something from folk tales rather than a reasoned healing practice.
“Should I…?” she began. Her eyes remained fixed on his movements. The sweet scent of his seed reached her.
“Ye can use yer mouth,” Khaeric said, his voice rough. “Or I could find a cup if ye prefer.”
The suggestion of a cup struck her as absurd—sterile, clinical. This was already strange enough without adding such detachment. “No cup,” she said, pushing herself. “Come here.”
She reached for him, her fingers wrapping around his shaft beneath his own hand before leaning forward, her lips parting as she took his cock into her mouth.
His breath quickened above her. One of his hands moved to cradle the back of her head, careful not to push or guide, just resting there. She glanced up, meeting his amber eyes. They burned with barely restrained hunger, yet his touch remained careful, controlled.
There was a hot surge that filled her mouth, coming in thick, powerful pulses. Aeryn swallowed quickly, but the surge outmatched her. It escaped across her lips, sliding down her chin as she tried—unsuccessfully—to keep pace. Her eyes widened at the sheer volume, her throat working to take in more.
Khaeric groaned above her, his fingers tightening in her hair as the last pulses ebbed. When she pulled back, gasping, she glanced down, flustered by the mess. “I’m sorry.”
“No need for apologies.” He reached down, wiping away what had escaped down her chin before bringing his thumb to his own mouth, licking away what he’d collected.
“I feel better,” Aeryn said, surprised.
Khaeric nodded, tucking himself back into his trousers before sitting beside her.
“Is it enough?” Aeryn asked. “Will we need to do this often?”
“Brenn would ken better than I, but I’d guess once every few days until yer feelin’ better,” Khaeric said, smoothing her hair back.
“I’m sorry. With everything happening, Caeryth’s arrival, my mother appearing. I thought my fatigue was just from the strain of it all.”
“Did ye tell yer mother about the child?”
“Yes,” she said. “There was no disgust, no horror, just concern.” She shifted to face him. “She surprised me, Khaeric. She spoke of her own arranged marriage, how she had to adapt to human ways.” Her voice softened. “I never truly understood what she went through until I came here.”
“I’m glad she didn’t reject ye.”
“I think I understand her better now.” She leaned into Khaeric. All those years watching her mother navigate court politics with such grace, she’d never considered the cost.
“I heard ye visited Druin’s garden today.”
Aeryn nodded. “I did. I also told her about Serathen. Mother didn’t recognize her name, but realized the family connection. She seemed... less surprised than I expected.”
“And what did she think?” Khaeric asked.
“She didn’t deny it outright. I think she’s open to it, but cautious.” She hesitated, remembering the look in her mother’s eyes: the wariness, the calculation.
“And yer sister?”
“Less well.” Aeryn sighed. “Caeryth was raised like I was, firm in human ways… but I had to challenge everything I was taught because of our union.” She trailed off, remembering her sister’s pale face, the way her hands had trembled.
Aeryn’s mind drifted back to the days before the wedding, when her world had seemed to narrow to a single, inevitable point.
She’d spent those final hours in her chambers, surrounded by servants who wouldn’t meet her eyes and sisters who spoke in hushed, pitying tones.
The white dress had hung on its frame like a ghost.
Her mother had come to her a few days before the ceremony. Liraen had dismissed the attendants with a gesture, waiting until the door closed before crossing to where Aeryn sat at the window.
“I know you’re frightened,” her mother had said, settling onto the cushioned bench beside her. “Keep an open mind when you go to Beinn Ork. Try to see past what you’ve been taught to believe.”
“But Mother, they’re—” Aeryn had started, the word monsters dying on her tongue.
“What are they?” Liraen had asked, her voice gentle but firm. “What do you truly know of them beyond what others have told you? Beyond the stories designed to frighten children and justify wars?”
Aeryn looked away, unable to answer. Every tale she’d heard painted them as savage, incapable of tenderness or reason. Yet her mother’s expression had held something else—not certainty, but possibility.
“So I tried,” Aeryn said softly. “I tried to keep an open mind.” She paused, her throat tightening. “This journey has already challenged everything Caeryth believes. And now to learn about the baby, about Serathen... It’s a lot to ask her to accept at once.”
Still, a small hope flickered in Aeryn’s chest. If she could find the courage to question what she’d been taught, perhaps Caeryth could too. The question was whether she’d want to.
“And her reaction to the bairn?”