Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Baralt moved like water flowing over stone.
Khorrek adjusted his stance and struck again. The practice blade whistled through air, missing by inches.
Baralt laughed, musical and infuriating.
“Too slow, orc. You think like earth. Heavy. Predictable.”
“Earth endures.” He circled patiently. “Water evaporates.”
“Philosophy won’t save you.”
Baralt struck. Three rapid attacks from different angles. Khorrek blocked the first two, and twisted away from the third. He was getting better, learning their patterns.
Two days of riding alongside the Windrunners had taught him more about their fighting style than months of observation would have. They favored speed over power, precision over brute force. It was different from everything he’d been trained to do, but it was dangerously effective.
“Again,” he demanded.
Baralt grinned, all teeth and feral amusement.
They’d developed a routine over the past two days. Hard riding until the sun began to set, quick efficient camps, training by firelight, and then stories. Tales shared between warriors.
He’d never experienced anything like it. Lasseran kept his Beast warriors separate and isolated. He’d fostered competition rather than camaraderie.
But here?
Here the Windrunners treated him like an equal, a fellow warrior worthy of respect. It was… unsettling. And oddly comforting.
Baralt attacked again, faster this time, and he met him head-on, trading speed for positioning. He drew Baralt into overextending and then struck. His blade stopped at Baralt’s ribs as the older male froze, his eyes widening. Then he laughed, genuinely delighted.
“Well done. You adapt quickly.”
“I’m a fast learner.”
“Clearly.” Baralt stepped back and saluted with his blade. “Your mate should be proud.”
As always, warmth filled his chest at the mention of Thea.
My mate. The one who freed me.
He glanced toward the fire and found her immediately.
She sat with Lyric and Jaella, one of the older Windrunner women, heads bent together and deep in conversation.
They’d spent most of the past two days like that, talking and sharing knowledge.
Thea had been practically vibrating with curiosity, asking endless questions about the Windrunners and their magic. Their connection to the Old Gods. Jaella had answered with surprising patience, treating Thea’s academic interest with the respect it deserved.
“She’s special,” Baralt said, following his gaze. “Your mate. I can feel the power in her.”
“She’s brilliant.”
“More than brilliant. Chosen.” Baralt’s expression turned serious. “The Old Gods move through her. Guide her steps.”
Khorrek wanted to dismiss the words, wanted to retreat into skepticism, but he’d seen too much. She dreamed of paths through mountains, knew things she shouldn’t, and read languages she’d never studied.
“Would that frighten you?” he asked.
“Being bound to someone touched by gods?” Baralt considered. “I don’t know. I’ve never found my mate.”
“I didn’t think the Windrunners had the same shortage of females.”
“No. We’re blessed with balance.” Baralt’s smile turned wistful. “But that doesn’t guarantee finding the one meant for you. I’ve searched for my female but the bond has never formed.”
“Do you still believe you’ll find her?”
“I have to. Otherwise…” Baralt shrugged. “What’s the point of enduring?”
He understood. Completely.
A month ago, he’d been going through the motions. Following orders. Existing without truly living.
Then Thea had stumbled into his life, naked, defiant, and impossibly brave, and everything had changed.
“You’re fortunate,” Baralt said quietly. “To have found her so young. To have a lifetime ahead of you.”
“If we survive the next few days.”
“You will. The Old Gods didn’t bring you together just to tear you apart.”
He wanted to believe that. He wanted to trust in divine intervention and destiny, but he’d spent too many years watching Lasseran twist faith into manipulation.
“I’ll protect her,” he said instead. “Whatever it takes.”
“I know. I can see it in every move you make. Every glance towards her.” Baralt’s smile returned. “That’s what makes you dangerous, orc. You’re not fighting for glory or duty. You’re fighting for love. And that makes you unstoppable.”
After the training ended he went to join Thea. She looked up as he approached and gave him a warm smile.
Mine. Beautiful. Safe.
His Beast purred with satisfaction.
“Finish showing off?” she teased.
“I was training.”
“You were definitely showing off.” Lyric’s grin was knowing. “Very impressive, by the way.”
“Thank you.”
Egon snorted from across the fire. “Don’t encourage him. His ego’s already large enough.”
“Says the male who spent an hour demonstrating advanced blade techniques yesterday.” Lyric’s said dryly, her tone affectionate.
“That was educational.”
“Sure it was.”
Their easy banter was the kind of comfortable teasing that came from genuine affection.
He’d never experienced anything like it. He’d never seen relationships that weren’t based on power dynamics and manipulation. But watching Egon and Lyric showed him what a true partnership should be.
He settled beside Thea and let her lean against his shoulder.
“Learn anything interesting?” he asked.
“So much.” Her voice vibrated with excitement. “Jaella was telling us about the old ways. Before the kingdoms became separate. When magic flowed freely and the balance was maintained.”
“The golden age,” Jaella said. Her voice was like aged whiskey, smooth and rich. “Before greed and pride corrupted what should have been sacred.”
“What happened?” he asked.
“What always happens. Someone wanted more. Wanted power over others rather than power shared.” Jaella’s silver eyes reflected the firelight, ancient and knowing.
“The High Kings were meant to be mediators. Servants of balance. But generation by generation, they claimed more. Took more. Until the balance shattered.”
“And the Beast Curse was part of that,” Thea said. It wasn’t a question.
“Yes. It was meant to be a blessing. A gift of strength and longevity in exchange for service and protection. But when the balance broke?” Jaella shook her head. “The blessing became a curse, twisted and corrupted.”
“Can it be fixed?” he heard himself ask.
“That’s what your mate will determine tomorrow.”
Tomorrow.
The word hung heavy in the air.
They’d spotted the Stone Circle at midday, the stones rising from the grasslands like ancient sentinels.
The same circle where he’d first found Thea, changing his life forever.
They’d made camp a short distance away—close enough to reach easily and far enough to avoid whatever power still lingered in those stones. And tomorrow, Thea would attempt the first part of the ritual.
Cleansing. Restoration. Balance.
Words that should have been comforting, but Khorrek’s Beast was restless
Danger. Threat. Protect mate.
“Tell me about the ritual,” he said casually, careful not to betray his concern, but she stiffened slightly against him.
“It’s complicated.”
“You’ve been studying for days. Surely you can explain the basics.”
“I…” She hesitated. “I’ll know more once I see the circle again. Read the runes properly.”
He knew she was being evasive and it only increased his sense of unease, but before he could press, Lyric spoke.
“The cleansing requires precise timing, specific components, and complete focus.” Her voice was distant, seeing something beyond the fire. “It’s not something that can be explained easily.”
“Try,” Egon said, his voice flat and concerned.
Lyric blinked and focused on him, then smiled softly.
“I wish I could. But I only see fragments.” She touched her chest. “The Old Gods speak in riddles and visions, not instruction manuals.”
Despite the underlying tension, Thea laughed.
“Gods, I wish they did. A nice step-by-step guide would be so much easier.”
“Where’s the mystery in that?” Jaella grinned at them. “Faith requires uncertainty. Trust requires risk.”
“I’d settle for slightly less uncertainty,” Thea muttered, still tense against Khorrek’s side. Still hiding something.
What aren’t you telling me, mate?
The camp settled into a comfortable quiet as warriors found their rest, but he remained by the fire, guarding. Old habits and ingrained caution. Never fully relax. Never let your guard down. Vigilance is survival.
Beside him, Thea dozed with her head on his shoulder and her glasses askew and he adjusted them carefully.
Fragile. Precious. Mine to protect.
Baralt approached, silent as smoke, and settled across the fire.
“Can’t sleep?” he asked mildly.
“Someone needs to keep watch.”
“Rashad has guards posted. We’re safe.”
“There’s no such thing as safe. Not with Lasseran hunting us.”
“Fair point.” Baralt studied him. “You’re worried about tomorrow.”
“I’m always worried.”
“But this is different. This is about her.” Baralt gestured toward Thea. “About what she’ll face.”
There was no point in denying it.
“She’s being evasive. Hiding something about the ritual.”
“Perhaps she’s protecting you.”
“From what?”
“From knowledge that would make you try to stop her.”
The words settled like ice in his gut.
No. She wouldn’t. She knows I need to protect her.
“What do you know?” he demanded.
“Nothing concrete. Just observation.” Baralt’s expression was sympathetic. “But I’ve seen that look before. The determination to do what’s necessary regardless of personal cost. It’s the look of someone preparing for sacrifice.”
“No.”
“Khorrek—”
“She’s not sacrificing anything. I won’t allow it.”
“It may not be your choice.”
Rage flared, hot and immediate, and his Beast surged forward.
Mine. Protect. Keep safe.
“I’ll make it my choice.”
“Even if that means going against her wishes? Against the will of the Old Gods?”
“Fuck the Old Gods,” he said savagely. “I’ll protect my mate. Nothing else matters.”
Baralt didn’t flinch, just studied him with those ancient silver eyes.
“You love her.”
“Yes.”
“Enough to let her make her own choices? Even if they terrify you?”
“That’s not—” he stopped and forced himself to breathe. “That’s different.”
“Is it?”
“She doesn’t understand the danger. Doesn’t know what Lasseran is capable of.”
“I think she understands better than you give her credit for.” Baralt leaned forward intently. “Your mate is brilliant. Strong. Brave. She knows the risks. And she’s choosing to face them anyway.”
“Then I’ll face them with her.”
“What if you can’t?”
He’d considered that possibility. He’d felt the wrongness in his gut every time she deflected questions about the ritual.
She’s planning something. Something that requires her to be alone.
“I won’t leave her,” he said flatly.
“Even if staying means interfering with the ritual? Potentially destroying the only chance to restore balance?”
“Yes.”
Baralt sighed. “You’re going to make this difficult, aren’t you?”
“Always.”
Despite the tension, Baralt smiled slightly, understanding.
“Good. She deserves a mate who fights for her, even when she’s fighting against him.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Love rarely does.”