Chapter 16 #2
"The Council has been watching your conquest of the human financial territories with great interest," he recites, clearly repeating words he has memorized.
"They acknowledge your victories and respect your strategic prowess.
However, they have concerns regarding your claimed authority over a clan of humans, which is unprecedented in our history. "
I take the scroll but do not open it, my jaw tightening with growing unease. "What concerns?"
"The Council questions whether a human clan can truly accept Orcish leadership, and whether you are worthy to represent our people in such an unusual arrangement.
" The messenger's eyes flick nervously to Cypress, then back to me.
"They demand proof of your worthiness through the traditional rites of clan establishment. "
My blood runs cold. The traditional rites of clan establishment are ancient ceremonies dating back to the first Orcish settlements, formal rituals that require a new warchief to demonstrate their strength, wisdom, and the loyalty of their followers before the assembled elders.
They are grueling, humiliating, and designed to weed out the unworthy through public trials that can last for days.
"When?" I ask.
"The full moon rises in three days. You are expected to present yourself and your clan before the Council at the ancestral meeting grounds.
" The messenger swallows nervously. "Failure to appear, or failure to complete the rites successfully, will result in the Council declaring your human clan illegitimate and stripping you of your titles and holdings. "
I break the seal and unroll the scroll, scanning the formal language that confirms everything the messenger has said.
The Council's demands are clear—I must prove my worthiness to lead a human clan through a ritualistic presentation that will include trials of strength, demonstrations of loyalty from my followers, and formal challenges from any who wish to dispute my claim.
"This is ridiculous," Cypress says, stepping up beside me to read over my arm. "You've been running this company successfully for weeks. You just defeated a fraud scheme and saved hundreds of jobs. What more proof do they need?"
"Human accomplishments," I say heavily, "mean little to the Council. They respect only tradition, and tradition demands that new warchiefs prove themselves through ancient rites, not modern victories."
The messenger shifts uncomfortably. "The Council also noted the presence of your.
.. companion." His eyes dart to Cypress, to the silver clasp gleaming in her hair.
"They wish to inform you that if you have taken a human as your bonded mate, this must also be addressed during the presentation.
The claiming of a human by an Orc war chief is. .. unprecedented."
"Addressed how?" Cypress demands. What exactly does the Council plan to do about our relationship?"
"I am merely a messenger," the young Orc says quickly, taking a step back. "The scroll contains all the information I was given. The Council will explain their expectations when you arrive."
He bows hastily and retreats through the door, leaving Cypress and me alone in the boardroom with the ancient tradition upon us. I stare at the scroll in my hands, reading the formal language over and over, searching for some loophole or exception that might spare us from this trial.
There is none.
"Knox." Cypress's hand closes around my wrist, her grip surprisingly strong for such a small human. "What does this mean? What are these rites they're talking about?"
I set the scroll down on the table and turn to face her, taking both her hands in mine.
"The rites of clan establishment are ancient ceremonies designed to test a new warchief's worthiness.
I will be required to demonstrate my strength through combat, my wisdom through strategic challenges, and my leadership through the testimony of my followers. "
"That doesn't sound so bad," she says cautiously. "You're strong and smart, and your employees—your clan—they respect you."
"The trials are designed for Orcish clans.
Warriors who have trained their entire lives in our ways, who understand our traditions and can participate in the rituals.
Your colleagues—they are brilliant and capable, but they know nothing of Orcish culture.
They will not understand what is expected of them. "
Cypress's eyes narrow with the familiar determination I have come to love. "Then we'll teach them. We have three days, right? That's seventy-two hours to turn a bunch of accountants and analysts into honorary Orcs."
"It is not that simple. The Council will be looking for any excuse to declare the clan illegitimate. If even one of your colleagues fails to show proper respect, if anyone breaks protocol or offends the elders..."
"Then we won't let that happen." She squeezes my hands firmly, her jaw set with stubborn resolve. "We just defeated a corporate coup and sent a billionaire to prison. We can handle a bunch of grumpy old Orcs with too much free time."
Despite my worry, I feel a smile tugging at my lips.
Her courage never fails to astonish me, this tiny human who faces every challenge with the ferocity of a berserker and the cunning of a master strategist. She does not truly understand what we are facing, does not grasp the full weight of Orcish tradition and the Council's power, but her faith in our ability to overcome any obstacle is infectious.
"There is another concern," I say slowly, knowing I must tell her the full truth. "The Council mentioned our bond. If they determine that my claiming of you was improper, or that our relationship weakens my position as warchief, they may demand that I set you aside."
Cypress goes very still. "Set me aside?"
"Renounce our bond. Declare the claiming invalid." The words taste like ash in my mouth. "They could make it a condition of accepting my leadership—prove your dedication to the clan by removing this distraction."
Her hands tighten on mine until her knuckles turn white. "And what would you do? If they demanded that?"
I meet her eyes, letting her see the absolute certainty in my heart.
"I would tell the Council to rot in the deepest pits of the underworld and burn their precious traditions to ash.
You are my mate, my partner, my equal in all things.
No council of dusty elders will ever convince me to abandon you. "
The tension in her shoulders eases slightly, though worry still clouds her expression. "But then they'd strip your titles. Take the company. Everything we fought for would be gone."
"Better to lose everything than to lose you.
" I cup her face in my hands, tilting her chin up so she cannot look away from the truth in my eyes.
"This is not negotiable, my valkyrie. The Council can demand whatever they wish, but they cannot make me betray my heart.
If they refuse to accept our bond, then I will walk away from Orcish tradition entirely and build a new legacy with you at my side. "
Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, but she's steady when she speaks.
"Let's not give up on tradition just yet.
We have three days to prepare for a ritualistic presentation, and I have never failed to prepare adequately for an important meeting in my career.
" A smile crosses her face. "If the Council wants proof of your worthiness, we'll give them a presentation they'll never forget. "
I pull her into my arms, pressing my face into her hair and breathing in the scent that has become more precious to me than gold or glory. Three days. We have three days to prepare for a trial that could destroy everything we have built, everything we have become to each other.
The scroll lies forgotten on the boardroom table, its demands and threats rendered meaningless by the simple truth of what I hold in my arms. Let the Council come.
Let them test us. They will find that the bond between an Orc warchief and his human mate is stronger than any tradition they can conjure.