Chapter 30 #2
Khaeric’s hand moved protectively over Aeryn’s belly. “Perhaps it’s because he’s needed to help us find this truth. The ancestors work through him.”
Aeryn’s lips curved into a soft smile, pride swelling in her chest. “My clever little one,” she whispered.
Garran straightened. “I’ll fetch Mael.” He gestured toward the leather-bound package in her hands.
“Go,” Khaeric nodded. As Garran’s footsteps receded down the corridor, Aeryn carefully placed the bundle on the floor beside her. Khaeric sat beside her. “He led ye here. Our clever lad.”
“No,” Aeryn brushed her fingertips over the leather-bound bundle. “He led us here.”
Their eyes met and in that shared look lived the sum of every step they had taken—fear, defiance, loss, the fragile hope she once thought impossible. His hand covered hers atop the documents, their fingers interlacing over the proof of a centuries-old crime.
Korrath’s eyes darkened as he examined the documents spread across the council table. “These cannae be released. No’ yet.” His voice was low, resonant with authority that brooked no argument.
“Father—” Khaeric began, but Korrath raised one massive hand.
“I understand what ye’ve found, son. The significance isnae lost on me.” He gestured to the ancient parchments that documented centuries of deliberate genocide. “But we must be strategic. The clans are already restless wi’ rumors. If this evidence were made public now…”
The baby pressed against Aeryn’s ribs, forcing her to shift in her seat. She was eight months along now. Any day now, her mother and sister would return to the mountain with a team of elven midwives for the birth.
“We will wait until after the birth to determine our next steps,” Korrath said, folding his hands.
A surge of protest rushed through Aeryn. “So we just... keep this hidden? After everything we’ve been through to find it?”
Korrath’s gaze softened as it moved from the documents to her swollen belly. “Not hidden, daughter. Protected. Until the proper time.”
“And when would that be?” Khaeric asked, his voice tight with restrained frustration.
“After the birth. After we ensure the safety of yer son and Aeryn,” Korrath said. “Yer mother and sister arrive in less than a fortnight wi’ their retinue of healers. We cannae risk this information becoming known while elven and elf-blooded nobles walk our halls.”
“So we simply wait?” she asked, unable to keep the edge from her voice. “While these documents—proof of what was done to your people—gather dust?”
Korrath’s amber eyes met hers, steady and unrelenting. “Aye, daughter. We wait. The truth has remained hidden for centuries. It can remain so a few weeks more.”
Aeryn glanced at Khaeric, hoping to find support, but his expression had settled into that carefully neutral mask she knew so well.
The one that meant he was caught between duty and desire.
“My father is right,” he said finally, though the admission seemed to cost him.
“We dinnae ken how the clans will respond wi’ the news. ”
The baby shifted beneath Aeryn’s touch. “You can’t possibly think the clans would harm my family.” The thought sent a chill down her spine.
“I think naught is certain when ancient wounds are reopened. The clans have long memories, daughter.” Korrath’s expression remained grave, his tusked mouth set in a hard line.
“They wouldn’t—” she began, but stopped when she saw the look in Khaeric’s eyes.
“Some might,” Khaeric said quietly. “Clan Tarrn especially.” The warrior clan, renowned for their fierce battle prowess and uncompromising stance toward outsiders. Even among the orcs, they were considered hardliners, clinging to the old ways and ancient grudges.
“There’s another risk,” Korrath said, leaning forward. “The revelation that the elves deliberately cursed our kind could fracture the clans themselves.”
Aeryn frowned. “What do you mean?”
“There are those among our people who have long advocated for war wi’ the elves,” Korrath said, his voice low and measured.
“They believe the only justice is blood repayment for blood spilled. When this evidence comes to light, proof that the elves deliberately sought our extinction, their calls for vengeance will grow thunderous.”
“But surely you wouldn’t consider—”
“I wouldnae. I have spent the last three decades buildin’ toward peace. I willnae throw that away.” His massive hand spread over the documents.
“Would they be wrong to want justice?” Khaeric asked, his voice carefully neutral.
“Justice, no,” Korrath replied. “But war isnae justice. It is vengeance, and vengeance has no end.” He pushed himself to his feet.
“After the birth, when yer family and the midwives have departed. That is when we will tell the clans. Until then, Aeryn will assist Mael wi’ the translation of the documents. ”
Korrath’s decision ended the meeting, but it did nothing to ease the weight pressing on Aeryn’s chest. As they left the council chamber, the mountain felt unchanged on the surface. Voices echoed from the great hall, warriors laughed, life went on.
She understood Korrath’s reasoning. Could even acknowledge the wisdom in it, if she forced herself to think past the frustration. But understanding didn’t make the waiting easier.
Khaeric wrapped his arm around Aeryn as they left the chamber. She leaned into the touch without thinking, drawing what comfort she could from his presence.
“Should I be worried?” The question escaped before she could stop it. “That someone might harm the baby?”
Khaeric’s arm tightened around her shoulders. “No.” His voice carried absolute certainty. “That isnae somethin’ to worry about.”
“But you just said—”
“I said there are those who might wish harm to yer family. To yer mother, yer sister.” He stopped walking, turning to face her fully.
“But our son? He’s orc, Aeryn. Blood of the clans.
No matter what fury rises when the truth is revealed, no orc would raise a hand against one of our own bairns. It would be unthinkable.”
“What about harming me?” The words tasted bitter. “I’m still part elf. Still of royal blood.”
His hands moved to frame her face. “Ye’re also Aeryn of Clan Druin. My mate. Ye’ve proven yerself to the clans time and again.” His amber eyes held hers. “They’ve seen ye learn our ways, speak our tongue, honor our traditions. Ye’ve earned yer place here.”
“Besides,” Khaeric said, his thumbs brushing across her cheekbones, “the only reason we found proof at all is because of ye.”
Aeryn searched his face, looking for the truth behind the words. Did he truly believe that, or was he simply trying to ease her worry? Still, arguing felt pointless. He’d already made up his mind about her place here, about her safety.
“In a few days the Stonecaller arrives,” Khaeric said, his voice brightening with forced cheer. “To begin work on the nursery.”
The mention of the nursery pulled Aeryn’s thoughts away from ancient documents and clan politics. She let herself focus on the their son’s first room. “We have been putting off getting his nursery ready…”
Khaeric nodded. “Aye, we have. Ye’ve been so focused on findin’ those documents that we’ve barely discussed what we want for the space.”
Aeryn hummed in thought as they resumed walking. The corridors seemed longer today, her steps slower.
“The Stonecaller can shape the walls,” Khaeric added. “Create alcoves for storage, perhaps a small hearth if ye’d like. The stone can be smoothed or left textured, whatever ye prefer.”
“Could you handle the room itself?” Aeryn asked. The thought of making decisions about stone shaping and structural changes felt overwhelming. “I’d rather focus on the decorating. Picking out the textiles, the colors, whatever we’ll need for his comfort.”
“Ye want me to handle it?” He sounded almost boyish in his enthusiasm. “The whole design?”
“Yes,” Aeryn nodded. “I trust your judgement.”
“I’ll make it perfect for him,” Khaeric said as he pulled her close and pressed his lips to her the top of her head.
Strange, how far they’d come. Aeryn’s hand drifted to her belly; she’d arrived at Beinn Ork less than a year ago, terrified. The memory felt distant now, like something that had happened to someone else entirely.
She’d been an unwilling bride then. A treaty obligation and a political necessity to bring peace.
Now, though, Beinn Ork was home. Where she’d learned to speak without measuring every word, and where she’d stopped apologizing for taking up space.
She’d become someone who belonged here, who was no longer .
The documents represented a storm waiting to break. When the truth came out, and it would, the clans would rage. Some would call for blood. Some would call for reparations. And some would call for war.
But the fear that should have accompanied that knowledge didn’t come.
Perhaps it was Khaeric’s hand at her back, steady as the mountain itself. Perhaps it was simply that she had stopped waiting to feel safe and had started trusting what she already knew: that she was not facing any of it alone.
She had Khaeric, who had chosen her—truly chosen her—long before either of them admitted it. She had Korrath, who had called her daughter without ceremony and meant it. She had Garran and Thorn and Mael, and Essa and Odelina and other women of the mountain.