Chapter 12
Thavros
Istood in front of the statue, arms folded, the echo of last night playing over and over in my mind.
The memory of her trembling beneath my touch, her whispered pleas to feel real, clung to me like the scent of her skin.
She had come apart in my arms with such fierce need, such reverence, it left something wild and unspoken.
And yet here she was again. Still. Silent. Stone.
Only, she didn’t look quite like stone today.
There was a flush to her cheeks, a softness in the curve of her lips that hadn’t been there before. If I reached out and touched her, I half-believed she might turn toward me. Speak my name. Kiss me like she had the night before.
The war room felt too quiet without her voice.
I couldn’t seem to help myself. I reached out and cupped her cheek, only to feel smooth, cool stone. My heart ached for her. I needed this goddess trapped in stone to be with me all the time.
I turned toward the great hall with a growl under my breath. The feast awaited.
And with it, the masks and politics I had no stomach for today.
As I turned from the statue, I found my sister standing at the top of the stairs, her arms crossed over her chest as she evaluated me. I had no patience for this today.
“Well, well,” Frema drawled, her voice laced with dry amusement. “Should I be worried you’re getting sweet on cold women now, brother?”
“Do you need something?”
“Your presence,” she said, coming to stand beside him. “There’s a feast in your brother -- your chief's honor, and you’re hiding in here like it’s a cave, talking to rocks.”
“She’s not a rock.”
Frema tilted her head and gave me a once-over, eyes narrowing. “Oh. Oh. That explains a few things.”
“What things?”
“The ghost smiles. The distracted pacing. The way you snapped at me when I suggested a very willing warrior-widow last night.” She bumped her shoulder lightly against mine. “Thavros, I’m not blind. You’re in love with a statue,” she said in a sing-songy voice, before doubling over in laughter.
He finally looked at her, not amused by her joke.
Only then did she stop and look at me, “Wait. What is happening?”
“It’s not what it appears to be.”
“It never is with you,” Frema said with a sigh, but her tone softened. “You always did prefer puzzles to people.”
“Come on,” she nudged. “Khuldruk is pacing, and Callie looks like she’s about to throw up. We need you.”
I cast one last glance at the still form before following my sister out.
Later that evening, the Great Hall buzzed with life.
Lanterns glowed warmly across stone walls, banners were hung in celebration, and the tables overflowed with food.
The room was filled with laughter that echoed off the ceilings, the sound of boots stomping in rhythm to drums, and the sharp clink of ceremonial goblets being passed around.
Orcs knew how to throw a party, especially when it was in honor of a bond as rare and powerful as Khuldruk and Callie’s.
A Yule Feast and the celebration of a new mating bond, all in one.
It was something indeed to be celebrated.
Yule celebrated the longest night of the year.
The light would begin to return. It should be joyful, yet the returning of the light meant nights with my goddess would start to get shorter.
With a little shake of my head, I pushed that thought far from my mind.
Tonight was a feast to celebrate my brother, too.
He and his mate deserved all of this and more.
I moved through the crowd with practiced ease but didn’t linger.
I exchanged nods with clan elders, acknowledged the visiting dignitaries with short greetings, and clasped Khuldruk’s shoulder in quiet solidarity.
But my gaze kept drifting toward the doors.
Toward the shadows. Toward what was missing.
“You look like someone waiting for their lover to crash the party,” Frema murmured, appearing at his elbow with a horn of ale in one hand and a mischievous grin.
“You're not funny,” I said under my breath, sipping something that burned going down.
She shrugged. "I'm a little funny.” She nudged my arm. “Try not to ruin the vibe.”
The crowd parted as Callie took the center floor.
Gone was the beautiful gown she’d had on at the start of the feast. Now, she wore a simple corseted dress with her breasts heaved up high on her chest. Thavros remembered Khuldruk saying he had found her singing at a fair.
She picked up her guitar, and it looked like they were in for a treat.
And then—she sang.
The music stilled the room.
Callie’s voice swept over the assembled orcs like magic.
She sang many different songs, some raucous drinking songs, others soft and romantic.
Orcs listened, some mouths opened, others tapped the rhythm against their tankards.
By the final note, the room was roaring with approval.
Here beneath vaulted stone and sacred fire, she sounded like she belonged to the mountain itself.
Khuldruk’s face softened as she sang. The awe, the love, was written plainly on his face. I could see the beginning of something sacred and binding. It was a good reminder of what we stood to protect, what we had nearly lost.
As the night continued, I tried to stay present in the festivities. Still, it grew harder, each minute knowing a moment I stayed down here was one I was not spending with the entrancing creature in my study, helping her solve the mystery of who she was.
I barely had time to turn back to my drink before Frema plopped down beside me with a grin and someone new in tow.
“Thavros, meet Varka. Varka, this is my endlessly broody brother who badly needs a good tumble.”
I nearly choked on my drink.
“She’s a warrior from the northern route,” Frema continued, clearly enjoying herself. “Helped me beat back a skirmish of bandits. Single. Devastating with a spear. Has all her teeth.”
Varka raised one eyebrow, clearly used to Frema’s brand of chaos. “I’m also sitting right here.”
I gave her a nod. “Appreciate your service. Enjoy the feast.”
She waited until Varka wandered off before leaning in. “You didn’t even look at her.”
I didn’t respond. I didn’t need to.
“Gods,” Frema said, more to herself than to me. “There is someone.”
I drained my cup and set it down a little too hard. “I have work to do.”
But before I could even get away, I noticed a shift in the room. The room hadn't even quieted, but I took note. I always notice the way soldiers hold tension in their shoulders before anyone else notices something’s gone wrong.
I watched as one of Khuldruk’s guards murmured to him. My brother’s posture stiffened. His eyes cut toward me.
I was already moving.
"Thavros," Callie called.
I glanced at her, distracted by what was going on.
"Are you enjoying the feast?" she asked.
"Yes," I said as I tried to brush past her, but she took hold of my arm. "I must say the mead here is stronger than I'm used to."
Only then did I stop to notice the flush on her cheeks, the tilt of her head, and the slight slur in her words. She was drunk. "Have you seen Dru?"
I stopped and looked at her, confused.
"Sorry, Khuldruk. I can't seem to find him."
"Oh, yes, I believe I just saw him walk with a guard. Here, meet Varka," I said as I pulled the woman over to us.
"Varka, this is Callie, the mate of our chief. Callie, this is Varka, a warrior friend of Frema's."
At that, I took off down the hall, and my brother had just vanished down. Was it my most polite introduction? Certainly not, but right now something else was on my mind.