Chapter 31
Malek
I have never felt a pain as overwhelming as the one that pierced through me when that cursed king’s magic struck my chest. It was as if hundreds of invisible blades were stabbing me at once, stealing my breath and hurling me backward as though I weighted no more than a feather.
Fiona’s cry of concern was the only thing keeping me conscious.
She ran toward me, her beautiful blue eyes wide with fear, and over her shoulder, the king mocked my female’s power.
I couldn’t soothe her with words, but a single look was enough for her to understand.
Today was not the day I died. It was the day that damned coward of a king met his end.
Although his power wounded me, the protection runes scattered across my body prevented greater damage.
I could already feel my accelerated healing working against the internal bleeding where he had struck me.
Fiona squeezed my hand and stared at the king, the glow of pure hatred in her eyes promising something irreversible.
The magic that had once made the ashe bloom in her hands—the same power that allowed my people to harvest vegetables and fruits again after years of barren soil—exploded from my female.
In those blue eyes, there was no doubt—Fiona was going to kill the king.
The scrawny, long-eared Fae seemed to realize it as well, because he lost a measure of his bravado.
She raised her hands and, with what should have been the last words King Faélán would ever hear, unleashed all the fury trapped within her.
However, at the very last second, a streak of color flashed past us and seized Fiona from behind.
The green flash of her magic enveloped the entire clearing, strong enough to leave us partially blind for several seconds.
When my vision finally cleared, the first thing I noticed was Faélán sprawled on the ground, staring at Fiona with eyes glazed in terror.
And in front of her, a tiny female wrapped my krash’uk in an embrace.
Her brown hair framed a face streaked with tears, and her blue eyes bore the same unmistakable shade as Fiona’s and Leone’s.
Fiona held her so tightly that her feet left the ground.
“Mama…” Fiona whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief.
Almost at the same time, Leone exclaimed, “Mother? By the Goddesses, what are you doing here?”
The female pulled away from Fiona, her eyes brimming with tears, and huffed before shooting Leone a piercing look. “Well, I came to prevent my dear children from doing something they would regret for the rest of their lives.”
Slowly, I managed to sit up, still feeling the ache from my wound, but I ignored it to watch the scene unfolding before me. Even the battle around us seemed to have come to a standstill.
“What are you talking about?” Fiona asked, confusion evident in her voice.
Where had this female come from, anyway?
I looked around and almost immediately spotted Drak a few feet away, wearing a knowing smirk.
In front of him stood another High Fae with brown skin and white hair.
She must have been Fiona’s friend, Kristan.
I arched an eyebrow at my friend, but he merely shrugged.
Fiona’s mother ignored the question and turned her attention to the king, who was still paralyzed on the ground.
“King Faélán, I hope you are still capable of listening to reason. This battle has come to an end. Bring my husband back, please, along with that maggot Lord Fenric as well. There is no longer any reason to shed blood for the sake of pride and arrogance.”
“Mother? What are you doing?” Leone questioned, stepping closer to the two of them.
“Settling this mess. Honestly, I only had to leave the castle for a few days for all of this to happen!” She threw her hands up in exasperation before pointing sharply at her children, who immediately lowered their gazes. “And you two… I am proud of you.”
The siblings’ expressions lit up almost identically. I would have laughed if we weren’t standing in the middle of a battlefield.
“Your Highness, I have brought an important witness who will clarify everything,” Fiona’s mother said loudly, ensuring everyone could hear. “You may come forward, Merith.”
The Fae parted to let another High Fae pass through. She was slender, with dark hair and a guarded expression.
“Merith?” Fiona growled, baring her fangs at the newcomer. That alone was enough to put me on high alert. “What’s this, Laurelin? Why is she here?”
Fiona’s mother, Laurelin, clicked her tongue in a way that reminded me strongly of Uruha whenever someone said something foolish. “I will explain. Calm down.”
I expected Fiona to rebel against her mother’s order, but instead she obeyed.
“Merith invaded the castle of Ceilte a few moons ago and cursed my daughter, as many of you already know,” Laurelin announced, casting a glance around before fixing her gaze on Faélán once more.
“What no one knows is that Fenric hired her, and it was he who granted her entry into Ceilte. Tell them, Merith.”
“What the Lady of Ceilte says is true,” Merith replied respectfully, addressing Fiona’s mother.
From the surprise etched across my female’s face, such respect was unusual.
“Lord Fenric’s son came to my lands with a proposal: infiltrate Ceilte in exchange for gold.
I accepted. After all, most of us commoners live in misery while you”—she cast a disdainful look toward the king—“live in excess within your castles. The curse was meant for Lord Alasdair’s son and heir, but the daughter seemed more interesting to me. ”
A trace of amusement appeared in her eyes, making Fiona bare her fangs once more. Merith smiled, clearly satisfied with the reaction.
“Besides, Lord Leone is far too handsome to be green,” she added with a wink. Leone flushed crimson.
“Why, you little—” Fiona took a step forward, clearly ready to strike the Fae. My stomach tightened with anticipation; I loved seeing my female ready to fight.
“Enough!” Laurelin interjected sharply, stepping between them.
“As you can see, Your Highness, Lord Fenric has betrayed his sovereign and his people. The orcs have nothing to do with this and, in fact, have proven themselves valuable allies by taking in my dear daughter, even while fully aware of her curse.”
It was my turn to stare at the tiny Fae in disbelief.
Her eyes—so like my mate’s—softened when they met mine, and she bowed to me.
It was the first time in history that a High Fae Lady bowed to an orc in respect.
Judging by the stunned looks among the other orcs, aside from Drak—whose smirk only widened—I was not the only one surprised.
“And the curse?” Leone asked Merith directly. “Can you break it?”
Fiona’s entire body stiffened, and her gaze flicked toward me. What I found there was not relief, but fear. It didn’t take long to understand—she feared I would reject her if she returned to her High Fae form.
I rose with some difficulty and, ignoring the lingering pain in my chest, stepped forward until I stood close enough to feel the warmth of her body and breathe in her floral scent. I cupped her face between my blood-stained hands, my heart beating wildly at the softness in her gaze.
She loved me, regardless of who I was, regardless of the centuries of hatred between our people. She loved me—Malek, not the Ruk’hai.
And I loved her. More than anything in this harsh life, I loved Fionnuala Kerridan—the princess of Ceilte, daughter of my greatest enemy—and nothing in this world would have made me change my mind.
“Krash’uk,” I said softly, never breaking eye contact. “Knum Fiona. You could have been blue like the sky or red like a burning ember, and I would still have loved you. You were mine from the moment I first saw you—small, scrawny, staring at me through the bars with those wide blue eyes.”
She inhaled sharply, as if drawing breath for the first time in years, then pulled me toward her, closing the space between us with a kiss. It was not merely affection—it was a promise. No matter what happened, she would remain my krash'uk.
“If you want to break the curse, I will be by your side.”
“I’m happy like this,” Fiona declared firmly, never looking away from me. “Being an orc taught me to be strong, resilient, and capable of anything. And Malek, you taught me what it means to be free. Today, I choose that freedom—to remain by your side as your equal until the end of our lives.”
Finally, we separated and turned our attention back to Merith and Laurelin. Fiona’s mother wore a wide smile, while the Fae who had once cursed my female regarded her with solemn gravity.
“There’s no curse to be broken,” Merith announced. “The moment your heart made its choice, the magic resolved itself.”
Fiona’s eyes widened as realization dawned.
“To save the one she loves, within her heart a new-born spark must rise and burn anew. And only with a touch of magic shall the curse fade through,” she whispered.
Merith nodded, and this time a genuine smile appeared on her lips. “You made the right choice, Fionnuala. Now fate will take care of the rest.”
My female smiled brightly before turning and leaping into my arms.
“I’m an orc!” she shouted, her joy so pure that I couldn’t help but smile myself.
Around us, the orcs erupted into celebration, and from the corner of my eye, I saw Drak hoist Fiona’s friend into his arms and spin her through the air. May the Great Mother protect her from my friend and right hand—she was going to need it.
“How cheesy,” Leone muttered, though the grin on his face betrayed his words.
“And when will it be your turn, dear?” Laurelin asked with an almost wicked smile. Leone paled instantly.
Our celebration was cut short by the shrill voice of King Faélán, who had finally risen from the ground. His eyes burned with fury.
“Which of you dared to use a spell to bind me?!” he shouted.
“I did,” Merith replied with a shrug. “It was either that or you wouldn’t have listened to Lady Laurelin.”
“Guards, arrest them now! I want their heads—”
“Faélán, enough of this nonsense,” Laurelin interrupted, her voice stripped of all warmth. “Bring my husband here now, along with that treacherous scoundrel, or we will swear fealty to King Aodhán. I am certain he would love to hear what the Autumn Court has been plotting.”
The mention of the Winter Court—and King Aodhán—struck like a blade. Their rivalry with Grìosach was legendary, and the thought of Ceilte aligning with their enemy was a threat Faélán could not ignore.
The rage on the king’s face dissolved, replaced by cold calculation.
“Lady Laurelin, you wouldn’t be so foolish,” he said, attempting to sound superior despite the twitch in his eye.
“I’m the Lady of Ceilte, Faélán. I’m no fool,” she replied calmly. “Either Alasdair appears, or I consider the Autumn Court our enemy. The choice is yours.”
His gaze swept across the clearing—the Royal Guard cornered, the soldiers of Ceilte ready for battle, and my orcs awaiting a single command. There was no path to victory for him.
He sighed, defeat evident.
“Bring Alasdair and Lord Fenric,” he ordered stiffly.
Before long, two guards emerged from the castle, escorting two prisoners. One I recognized immediately—Fenric, his arrogance still clinging to him despite his circumstances. The other I remembered only faintly from years past.
Alasdair Kerridan.
He was tall, standing just under six and a half feet, with a proud face and unmistakable noble bearing.
His hair matched Fiona’s and Leone’s, though his eyes were a sharp gray.
When I had been abducted at eleven springs, he had inspected all the orc children.
When he reached me, he had stopped the others from hurting me.
Instead, he locked me in a cell alone and forgot me there until the day I escaped—thanks to his daughter.
That same male, upon seeing his family, abandoned all composure.
“Alasdair!” Laurelin cried, running forward and throwing her arms around him.
He held her tightly, burying his face in her hair as though afraid she might vanish if he loosened his grip. The moment felt deeply intimate—so personal that watching felt almost wrong.
“Laurelin… You’re safe.”
When Alasdair finally lifted his gaze toward Fiona and Leone, tears filled his eyes.
“My children… I’m so proud of you.”
The embrace that followed was desperate—hands clutching tightly, silent tears falling, as if the simple act of touching one another confirmed they were alive. It was a beautiful and painful sight, peace earned at a terrible cost.
“There, you have what you asked for,” Faélán snapped with visible irritation. “Now leave my lands before I have you driven out with arrows.”
We didn’t linger to see if he would change his mind.