Chapter 17
Ruka
Two months had passed since Jordan came to live in the village, and the transformation still left me breathless. Every morning I woke to find her beside me, and every morning that same fierce joy crashed through my chest—she was here, she was mine, she was real.
My mate.
The word thrummed through my blood like a war drum, primal and possessive and right in a way nothing else had ever been.
I watched her now as she moved through our dwelling, droplets of water still clinging to her shoulders from our morning bath, humming some human melody under her breath.
The domesticity of it—the simple, ordinary beauty—made something in my chest crack open wider.
I'd led warriors into battle. I'd negotiated treaties and settled disputes.
I'd done a thousand things that required strength and cunning.
But nothing had ever undone me quite like the sight of Jordan padding barefoot across our floor, completely at home in a space that had been mine alone for so long.
"You're staring again," she said without turning around, amusement threading through her voice.
"Can you blame me?" I moved up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her back against my chest. "I'm admiring my greatest treasure."
She melted into me with a contented sigh that I felt all the way to my bones. "How's the clinic coming along?"
"The foundation is finished. The walls will be up by week's end.
" I couldn't keep the pride from my voice.
My people had thrown themselves into the construction of the new clinic with an enthusiasm that warmed me.
"The solar array arrived yesterday. It took eleven warriors to carry all the pieces up the mountain path. "
Jordan spun in my arms so fast she nearly knocked the breath from me, her eyes blazing with excitement. "It's really here? Can I see it?"
Her joy was infectious, irresistible. I pressed my forehead to hers, breathing in her scent.
"After the morning meal. I promise." My thumbs traced idle circles on her hips.
"The medical equipment you ordered should arrive within a fortnight.
I made sure the shippers understood that every piece was precious cargo. "
"Ruka, you didn't have to spend so much—"
"You are my mate." I cupped her face in my hands, marveling as I always did at how delicate she seemed, how perfectly she fit against me.
"There is nothing—nothing—I would not provide for you.
" I brushed my lips across her forehead.
"Besides, you've already treated over half the village.
You've earned their respect ten times over. "
And she had. In the months since the smallpox outbreak, Jordan had stitched wounds, diagnosed fevers, set broken bones, and even helped deliver a baby. The clan sought her out, trusted her, loved her.
Word spread beyond our village like wildfire through dry grass.
Last week, three humans had made the arduous journey up the mountain specifically seeking Jordan's care.
One arrived with a badly infected wound that the doctors in Franklin had dismissed with a shrug and a prescription that did nothing.
Another needed medication she couldn't afford at the human clinics, where profit mattered more than healing.
Jordan was able to give her a herbal remedy that healed her in days.
The third had simply heard whispers of a skilled healer who actually listened—truly listened—to her patients.
Jordan had treated them all without hesitation, her hands as gentle with strangers as with clan, charging only what they could afford.
Sometimes nothing at all. I'd watched her work with the same fierce dedication she showed my people, and something in my chest had expanded until I thought my ribs might crack from the pressure of my pride.
She made no distinction between Orc and human, between wealthy and poor, between those who could repay her and those who couldn't. To her, a patient was simply a patient—a person in need of care.
She'd bridged two worlds with nothing but her kindness and skill, building a connection I'd never dared to imagine possible.
She'd worried at first that our old healer Morg would resent her presence, perhaps seeing Jordan as an outsider encroaching on sacred territory, stealing the respect that came with the healing role.
But Morg had surprised us both with her reaction. The elderly female had been ecstatic to turn over her healer duties, cackling with delight as she announced she'd just been waiting for someone with the right skill to come along so she could finally rest her old bones without guilt.
From that day forward, Morg had become Jordan's most enthusiastic supporter.
She'd shown Jordan which local herbs worked best for common ailments, shared generations of Orc healing wisdom passed down through countless winters.
Now Morg spent her days sitting in the sun like a contented cat, offering advice when asked but otherwise perfectly content to let Jordan handle the daily stream of patients.
"Morg told me yesterday she hasn't slept this well in twenty years," Jordan said with a soft laugh that made me want to kiss her breathless. "She said I'm the best thing to happen to this village since plumbing."
"Morg is not wrong," I said, and kissed her anyway.
"I'm happy here," Jordan whispered, reaching up to trace the line of my jaw with fingertips that left trails of warmth. "Happier than I've ever been."
My arms tightened around her, pulling her closer still. "As am I, little mate. As am I."
The peace that had settled over the village felt hard-won and precious.
Nadine and her cousin both awaited trial in federal court.
Jordan had spent countless hours meticulously documenting every shred of evidence, working late into the night with her friend Sarah to help build an ironclad case.
The evidence was so damning that Sarah visited last week, barely containing her satisfaction as she told us Nadine was looking at a lengthy sentence.
The aftermath had rippled through Franklin, creating waves of change none of us had anticipated.
Once the full extent of Nadine's crimes became public knowledge, something shifted in the human community.
Apologies arrived first—awkward, halting, but genuine.
Then came curiosity, tentative questions about Orc culture and customs. And finally, to my surprise, real interest in building bridges instead of walls.
Jordan, ever the optimist, had seized the opportunity with both hands.
"I've been thinking," she'd announced one evening as we sat on our porch, the setting sun painting the sky in brilliant strokes of color.
"What if we opened the village to day visitors?
Not all the time, and with strict boundaries.
But Ruka—" Her eyes had lit up with that particular fire I'd come to adore.
"The way your people live, the craftsmanship, the community bonds, the sustainable practices—it's extraordinary.
People would be amazed if they could just see it. "
My initial reaction had been pure skepticism. Our isolation had always been our shield, our protection against a world that feared us. But Jordan possessed an uncanny ability to illuminate possibilities where I saw only risks.
"We could start small," she'd continued, her enthusiasm building like a gathering storm.
"Educational tours, maybe once a week. Field trips for local schoolchildren.
Show them the forge, let them see the gardens, walk through the communal spaces.
Let them witness that Orcs aren't the monsters from their bedtime stories.
Different, yes, but not the threat they've been taught to fear. "
The elders had debated her proposal for three solid hours, voices rising and falling in heated discussion.
In the end, it was elder Sarsa who'd broken the deadlock.
"The girl speaks wisdom," she'd declared, thumping her gnarled walking stick against the ground with finality.
"Hiding in shadows breeds fear and suspicion.
Understanding breeds peace and respect. If they're willing to open their eyes and truly look, then we should be willing to show them who we really are. "
The vote had passed. The trial period would begin next week.
Jordan had thrown herself into planning with characteristic passion—mapping routes through the village, coordinating demonstrations of traditional crafts, even organizing a tasting menu of Orc cuisine that would challenge human palates in the best possible way.
Her excitement was infectious, and I found myself caught up in it despite my lingering reservations.
Perhaps she was right. Perhaps this could mark the beginning of something unprecedented. Something transformative.
But there was one crucial thing left undone, and I planned to remedy it today.
The thought had wrapped itself around my mind, persistent and all-consuming.
I'd stumbled through the council meeting in a daze, the discussion about grain storage going in one ear and out the other.
During weapons training, my blade work was embarrassingly sloppy—three missed blocks that would have earned me a bruised jaw in real combat.
Even Ryhain had caught on, her eyebrow arching skyward when I stared through her instead of answering her question about the forge schedule.
"Your mind is elsewhere," she'd said, amusement dancing in her eyes.
I couldn't argue with that.
The hours stretched, each minute an eternity. Every mundane task became a barrier standing between me and what my heart demanded. My pulse thrummed a wild rhythm against my ribs—strange for a warrior who'd stared down charging boars and hostile raiders without so much as a tremor.