Chapter 40 Vargath
VARGATH
The morning sun filters through the gaps in the storage barn's roof as I wrestle with a stubborn wooden beam that's decided today is the perfect day to demonstrate its independence.
Sweat beads along my forehead despite the cool air, and I'm beginning to suspect this particular piece of timber has personal grievances against me.
"You're fighting it like it insulted your mother." Seris's voice carries that particular note of amusement that means she's been watching me struggle longer than strictly necessary.
I grunt, adjusting my grip on the beam. "It did. Called her a weak-tusked milk-drinker."
Her laughter rings across the barn, bright and unguarded in a way that still catches me off-guard after all these months. She approaches with a coil of rope slung over her shoulder, moving with the easy confidence of someone who's found her place in the world.
"Here, you stubborn orc. Let me show you how it's done." She nudges me aside with her hip, examining the beam's position with the same careful attention she once reserved for diplomatic translations.
"I've been building things since before you could walk properly."
"And yet here we are, with you glowering at inanimate wood like it's personally wronged you." She threads the rope through a pulley system I hadn't even noticed, her movements economical and sure. "Sometimes finesse works better than brute force."
The beam slides into position with embarrassing ease. I stare at it, then at her, then back at the beam.
"Shut up," I mutter, which only makes her grin wider.
"I didn't say anything."
"You were thinking it very loudly."
She steps closer, close enough that I catch the scent of soap and sunshine that clings to her skin. Her hand finds my chest, fingers tracing the edge of a scar visible through my open shirt.
"What was I thinking?"
The question hangs between us, loaded with the kind of heat that wraps around your body. I capture her hand, bringing it to my mouth to press a kiss against her palm.
"That your mate is an idiot who doesn't know when to ask for help."
"My mate," she repeats, testing the word like fine wine. "I like the sound of that."
Before I can respond properly, she's pulling me down for a kiss that tastes like morning tea and mischief. I forget about the barn, the repairs, the fact that we're supposed to be working. My hands find her waist, pulling her closer until there's no space left between us.
"Well, this explains why the roof repairs are taking so long."
Kaela's voice digs through our private moment. Seris and I spring apart, though I keep one possessive hand at the small of her back.
Drokhar stands beside Kaela in the barn's entrance, arms crossed, wearing the expression of someone trying very hard not to laugh. "We came to check on your progress. Should we come back later?"
Heat crawls up my neck, but I find I don't particularly care. Let them see. Let the whole settlement see, for that matter. I've spent too many years hiding what matters most.
"We're making excellent progress," I say, gesturing toward the single beam we've managed to install. "As you can see."
Kaela snorts. "Yes, I can see exactly what kind of progress you're making."
Seris buries her face against my shoulder, her laughter vibrating through my chest. The sound makes something warm and fierce settle in my ribs—pride, maybe, or simple contentment.
This is what happiness looks like: my woman laughing in my arms while our friends tease us about our terrible work ethic.
Drokhar's expression grows more serious as he steps further into the barn. "Actually, we came to talk to you both about something."
The shift in his tone makes us both straighten. Seris's hand finds mine, our fingers intertwining automatically.
"We've been discussing the future," Kaela says, her voice taking on the careful cadence she uses for important conversations. "What we're building here, what it could become."
"And we want you both to be part of the inner circle," Drokhar continues. "To help protect others like you. Like all of us."
I feel Seris's grip tighten on my hand, can practically hear the wheels turning in her mind as she processes the implications.
Before either of us can respond, the sound of running footsteps echoes across the settlement grounds. A young orc scout appears in the doorway, chest heaving, sweat gleaming on his brow despite the cool morning air.
"Drokhar," he gasps, struggling to catch his breath. "News from the eastern settlements. Rumors."
"What kind of rumors?" Kaela steps forward, her healer's instincts already assessing the scout's condition.
"A human woman," the scout continues, still breathing hard. "Marked by a goddess. They say she glows with divine light, that her touch can heal the dying."
I feel Seris go very still beside me. Kaela and Drokhar exchange one of those loaded looks that speaks of shared knowledge and unspoken concerns.
Drokhar turns back to us, his expression grave but determined. "What do you say?"
The question carries more weight now, in the shadow of whatever these rumors might mean. I look at Seris, searching her face for doubt or hesitation. Instead, I find the same quiet resolve that carried her through imprisonment, childbirth, and every challenge since.
Her grip on my hand tightens. "Yes. We're in."