Chapter 18
Aeryn adjusted her fur mantle, smoothing it over the subtle curve of her belly. Today her family would meet with Khaeric as the man who’d claimed her and the father of her child.
She found her mother and sister waiting in the small antechamber outside their rooms. “You both look rested,” Aeryn said. Even after a single night in the mountain, her mother seemed more at ease.
“The mountain air agrees with me.” Liraen had traded her travel-worn silks for a simpler garment. “Though I confess, I did not expect to sleep so soundly beneath so much stone.”
“I hardly slept at all.” Caeryth tugged at her belt with a sharp sniff. “The furs are too heavy, and the bed feels like granite.”
Their mother cleared her throat, eyeing Caeryth before focusing on Aeryn. “Where is your husband to be found this morning? I had hoped he might break his fast with us.”
“He’s meeting us there.” Aeryn gestured toward the corridor. “We’ve arranged for a private chamber near the eastern terrace.”
She led them through winding corridors, crystal-light playing across the polished stone. Caeryth’s mouth held its thin line of displeasure, but Liraen’s eyes widened as they emerged onto the terrace.
Khaeric stood waiting in the archway, his broad silhouette framed against the light, and offered a respectful nod as they approached.
“Queen Liraen, Princess Caeryth.” As he moved toward them in his finest leathers, his hair carefully braided.
“Welcome.” His deep voice resonated through the stone chamber.
“I trust yer accommodations were suitable?”
Liraen inclined her head. “Most hospitable,” she said, her voice carrying that diplomatic evenness Aeryn knew so well. She glided forward, accepting Khaeric’s offered arm as he guided her to the table.
The table displayed a variety of foods Aeryn had selected—traditional orcish fare alongside dishes her mother and sister might find more familiar, including fragrant tea and freshly baked bread.
Caeryth hesitated before taking her seat, eyeing the unfamiliar dishes.
She pointed to a bowl of thick, amber-colored paste. “What is... that?”
“Honeyed marrow,” Khaeric said, his voice softening. “A delicacy among my kin. Try it wi’ the bread.”
“You have gone to considerable trouble,” Liraen said, settling into her seat.
“It seemed appropriate.” His gaze found Aeryn’s, a silent question in his eyes. She answered with a small nod and moved to sit beside him.
“I’ve never had honeyed marrow,” Aeryn said, spreading a small amount onto bread. The scent rose warm and rich, wild honey cutting through something darker beneath.
Caeryth wrinkled her nose, scanning the table. “Is this truly what you eat every day?”
“Caeryth,” Liraen warned, her voice soft but firm.
Khaeric’s mouth twitched, almost a smile. “No’ every day. The honey is precious here. We harvest it only twice each year, in early summer and late autumn.” He gestured toward the plate of sliced meat and dark bread. “This is more common fare.”
Aeryn bit into the bread, the honeyed marrow melting on her tongue, its richness more complex than she’d expected. “It’s delicious.”
Liraen took a careful portion of the unfamiliar food.
“The mountain itself is quite remarkable,” she said after tasting the marrow.
“I’ve never seen such integration of natural formation and deliberate design.
I think our people could learn much from your builders.
” Her eyes traveled up to the vaulted ceiling, where natural crystal formations cast light across the chamber.
Khaeric inclined his head, the formal cadence of his tone softening as he addressed her mother. “I thank ye for yer kind words. Our ancestors believed the mountain chose us. We merely listen to what it wishes to become.”
A flicker of genuine curiosity crossed Caeryth’s face as she reluctantly tried a small portion of the honeyed marrow.
Her eyebrows rose in surprise, though she schooled her features back to neutrality.
“It’s… adequate,” she admitted, reaching for her cup to hide what might have been the ghost of a smile.
“Each generation adds only what is needed, never takin’ more than the stone offers,” he said.
Liraen’s gaze remained steady on Khaeric. “And what of the child? Will he be shaped by the mountain as well?”
“He will ken both worlds,” Khaeric replied.
With a gentle squeeze of Khaeric’s hand beneath the table, Aeryn cleared her throat. “Mother, speaking of knowing both worlds, Khaeric and I are planning to travel to Thiarra. I wish for Khaeric to learn of the elven culture, as I have learned of his.”
“Thiarra.” Liraen set down her cup. “You understand what you are proposing? The courts have not received an orc within their borders for centuries.”
“It is our custom, Mother. Our elven custom.” Aeryn straightened, meeting her mother’s stare, her voice growing softer yet more insistent.
“When two are joined, the spouse must learn the other’s history and lineage.
You took Father to the sacred groves. You showed him the ancient records in the Hall of Memories. ”
“You cannot compare the situations.” Caeryth interjected. “Father was human nobility. Khaeric is—” She halted, her eyes darting to Khaeric.
“—an orc,” Aeryn finished, the word sharp on her tongue. “Yes, he is. And he is my husband, the father of my child.” She turned to face her mother. “I understand your concerns, Mother. I do.”
Liraen’s gaze softened, though her posture remained rigid. “Aeryn, what you ask would cause... difficulties.”
“Difficulties,” Aeryn repeated, tasting the diplomatic evasion. “You mean outrage. Scandal. Perhaps even threats.” She took a deep breath. “But you taught me that our customs bind us to our past, to our identity.”
Liraen stared at her daughter, the silence stretching between them.
Aeryn held her breath, refusing to look away.
Finally, her mother’s shoulders relaxed.
“You are right. Our traditions are not merely ornaments to be displayed when convenient. The court will not welcome him with open arms, but they will receive him. I will see to it.”
“I welcome the opportunity to understand yer homeland,” Khaeric said. “I will represent Beinn Ork wi’ honor.”
Liraen studied him with those seemingly ageless elven eyes that had always made Aeryn feel transparent as a child. “It is not your honor I question, Khaeric of Beinn Ork. It is the court’s ability to see beyond their prejudice.”
Caeryth let out a melodramatic sigh, leaning back in her chair.
“Wonderful. We’ll march your orc husband into Thiarra and see how many courtiers faint on the spot.
” She speared the meat with unnecessary force.
“I can hardly wait to see Lady Miraleth’s face when you walk through the Moon Gate, Khaeric.
She nearly fainted when a human merchant wore the wrong color to last year’s solstice celebration. ”
“Caeryth, please—”
“What?” Her sister’s smile was sharp as a blade. “I am simply preparing him for the reality of our oh-so-tolerant elven kin.” She turned to Khaeric with exaggerated sweetness. “They’ll smile to your face while they whisper behind your back about your... everything.”
“I’m sure yer court is no more judgmental than any other. All peoples have their biases,” Khaeric said. Aeryn knew what this restraint cost him, how deeply the barbs her sister flung hurt.
“Caeryth. You will show respect to the heir of Beinn Ork and the father of your sister’s child.” Liraen’s tone sharpened with a quiet authority that had once silenced entire royal assemblies.
Caeryth’s mouth tightened, but she lowered her eyes. “Of course, Mother. I meant no disrespect to the heir of Beinn Ork.” Her words dripped with sweetness, but there was no mistaking the contempt.
The faintest chill entered their mother’s tone, a dangerous softness Aeryn hadn’t heard since childhood. “Then perhaps you might explain why you feel the need to warn him of prejudices you yourself seem determined to display.”
The sound tugged at an old memory: her mother’s voice cutting through a council chamber when a twelve-year-old Aeryn had dropped a goblet mid-session. The courtiers had scattered at that same quiet edge, the one that meant the Queen Consort of the Unified Crown had reached the end of her patience.
“Mother—” Caeryth began, but their mother raised a hand.
“No, I would hear your answer.” Liraen’s eyes were like shards of ice. “I have watched you since I arrived, daughter. Your every glance at Khaeric drips with disdain. Your every word carries a barb.”
Caeryth flushed. “I’m only being realistic about what he’ll face in Thiarra.”
“You are not being realistic,” Liraen said. “You are being cruel. You claim concern, yet you mock your sister’s choices while enjoying the safety her sacrifice bought you. You sneer at the very people whose hospitality keeps you alive.”
“That’s unfair,” Caeryth protested. “I only meant to warn him.”
“If you truly wished to warn him, you would examine your own behavior first. Instead, you rehearse the cruelty you expect from others. You wield it before anyone else can.” Liraen drew a slow breath.
“I have spent my life navigating the treacherous waters of prejudice. I endured the stares, the whispers about whether my children would be ‘normal.’ And now I watch my own daughter perpetuate the very bigotry I experienced.”
Caeryth’s hands clenched around her cup, her knuckles whitening as tears welled.
Khaeric’s thumb stroked across Aeryn’s knuckles beneath the table. No longer the distant, diplomatic mother Aeryn had known all her life, but someone with depths of passion she’d never witnessed.
“I did not bear daughters to have them become vessels of hate.” Liraen’s tone softened, though the force behind it did not waver. “Particularly not you, Caeryth. You, who have always claimed to value freedom above all else.”