Chapter 3 Saela #2
"This is finished," the older orc interrupts, stepping forward with authority that brooks no argument.
"The ritual is complete, the bond is blessed, and Cupid's will has been fulfilled.
You have the rest of the Valentine festivities to bond before we hold a ceremony.
Brother, escort your bride to the longhouse. "
"Bronn—" Kai starts, but the older orc—Bronn—cuts him off with a sharp look.
"Cupid the Warrior has spoken, Kai. Would you dishonor the gods by refusing their gift?"
The threat in those words is subtle but unmistakable. Whatever Kai's personal feelings about this situation, defying his brother in front of the entire clan clearly isn't an option.
I turn to face Kai directly, desperation making my voice crack. "Please. You have to let me go. I'm being hunted—having me here puts your people in danger. You don't understand what you're risking."
For a moment, something flickers in his ice-blue eyes. Understanding, maybe, or recognition that this is bigger than ritual and tradition. But then Bronn speaks again.
"Danger?" The older orc's laugh is sharp as winter wind. "We are Frostfang, child. We fear no threat that walks these lands. If enemies follow you, they will learn the folly of challenging Cupid's chosen."
"You don't understand—"
"I understand that the gods have answered our prayers." Bronn's voice carries absolute finality. "You will remain with Kai, as Cupid intended. The Valentine bond is sacred, and we will protect it with our lives if necessary."
The words hit like a death sentence. There's no reasoning with them, no argument that will penetrate their absolute faith in whatever twisted mythology they've built around human customs. To them, I'm not a person with my own choices and desires—I'm a divine gift that validates their beliefs.
Kai's arms shift around me, not tightening but repositioning to better support my weight. When I look up at his face, I find him watching me with something that might be sympathy.
"I'm sorry," he says quietly, the words meant only for my ears. "This isn't what I wanted either."
The admission catches me off guard. Whatever I expected from my supposed husband, it wasn't an apology.
"Then let me go," I whisper back. "Just... let me walk away."
"I can't." His jaw tightens, and I see genuine regret flicker across his features. "If I defied Bronn now, in front of the entire clan... it would undermine everything he's trying to build here. I won't do that to my people."
"But you'll do this to me?"
The question hangs between us like a blade. For a heartbeat, I think he might actually answer honestly. Then Bronn claps his hands together, the sharp sound cutting through the moment.
"Enough talk. The night grows cold, and your bride needs shelter." He gestures toward the treeline where I can just make out the silhouette of buildings nestled against the cliff face. "Take her home, brother. Let her rest and prepare for tomorrow's festivities."
Home. As if the longhouse of a stranger is somehow my destination now.
Kai makes a sound that might be agreement or might be resignation. Without another word, he turns away from the fire and begins walking toward the settlement, carrying me like I weigh nothing at all.
The painted orcs part before us, their faces glowing with satisfaction and something that looks disturbingly like approval. The massive one—the one who found my arrival so amusing—grins and calls out something that makes several others laugh.
The lean orc with blue-green eyes shakes his head but his expression is fond rather than critical. "Try not to terrify her completely on the first night, Kai. Some of us would like to sleep without listening to screaming."
"Shut up, Falla," Kai mutters, but there's no real heat in it.
As we move away from the bonfire, the glow from the painted symbols on my skin begins to fade. Within minutes, we're just two figures walking through the darkness—predator and prey, captor and captive.
But the longer I'm pressed against Kai's chest, the more I become aware that he's not handling me like prey. His grip is secure but not painful, his stride careful to avoid jostling me unnecessarily. When we pass under low-hanging branches, he shifts to shield me from scraping bark.
It's not the behavior I'd expect from an orc claiming his prize.
"Why?" I ask finally, breaking the silence that's stretched between us.
"Why what?"
"Why aren't you happy about this?" I tilt my head to study his profile in the moonlight. "Your people seem to think I'm some kind of gift from the gods. Shouldn't you be... celebrating?"
His laugh holds no humor whatsoever. "Would you be celebrating if someone handed you a stranger and declared them your destined mate?"
The question stops me cold. Put that way, I can almost understand his frustration. Almost.
"I didn't ask for this any more than you did," I say quietly.
"I know." He glances down at me, and for the first time since we met, his expression is more tired than grim. "For what it's worth, I'll try to make this as bearable as possible. The ritual says we have to share my longhouse, but that doesn't mean..."
He trails off, leaving the sentence unfinished, but I think I understand what he's trying to say. Whatever these Frostfang orcs believe about marriage and divine bonds, he's not planning to force anything on me.
It's a small comfort, but in my current situation, I'll take whatever hope I can find.
The settlement looms ahead of us, carved into the shelter of the cliff like something out of a primitive dream.
Longhouses stretch in a rough circle around what looks like a central gathering area, their rooflines stark against the star-filled sky.
Smoke rises from several chimneys, carrying the scent of wood fires and cooking meat.
It looks... peaceful. Safe, even, in a way that human settlements never manage anymore. There are no defensive walls or guard towers, no evidence of the constant vigilance that marks every place I've ever lived.
These orcs aren't hiding from anything.
The realization sends a chill through me that has nothing to do with the winter air. What kind of creatures are so confident in their strength that they build homes without fortifications? What kind of enemies do they face that make them this unafraid?
And what does that mean for someone like me, caught in the middle of their strange traditions with no way to escape?
Kai's stride doesn't slow as we approach the largest of the longhouses, its carved doorframe decorated with symbols that match the ones painted on his skin. This must be where he lives—where we're both supposed to live now, according to his people's twisted understanding of divine will.
The door looms ahead like the entrance to a cave, dark and uninviting. Once I'm inside, my chances of escape will drop even further. The smart thing would be to struggle now, to make one last desperate attempt to break free while we're still outside.
But as I tense my muscles to try again, Kai's arms tighten slightly—not threatening, just... aware. Like he's expecting me to bolt and is prepared to prevent it.
"Don't," he says quietly. "Please. This will be easier if you don't fight me in front of my home."
The exhaustion in his voice gives me pause. He sounds as trapped as I feel, caught between duty and desire, between what his people expect and what he actually wants.
Maybe that makes him my enemy. Maybe it makes him my only potential ally.
I'm too tired and too scared to figure out which.