“I love you,” he whispers again, his voice hoarse with spent passion and unwavering truth.
I lie in the circle of his embrace, tangled in the soft furs. The world outside, with its waiting armies and impending dawn, feels a million miles away. Here, in this sanctuary we have made of each other, I am safe. My head rests on his chest, and the steady, powerful beat of his heart is the only lullaby I will ever need. His hand strokes my hair, his touch a gentle, continuous promise. For the very first time in my entire life—I am not a slave, not a fugitive. I am loved. I am home.
32
XYLON
Iwake to the pale morning light filtering through the high windows of my quarters. The waking is not a violent wrench from a nightmare, but a slow, gentle surfacing into peace. The reason for that peace is asleep in my arms.
Dina.
Her head is pillowed on my chest, her brown hair a soft, tangled river across my skin. Her breathing is a slow, even rhythm against my own, a quiet counterpoint to the steady, powerful beat of my heart. I lie there, unmoving, simply watching her. In sleep, the last vestiges of the fear and hardship she has endured fall away from her face, leaving only a serene, breathtaking beauty. She is my home. The vow I made to her at the gate was a pale shadow of the truth that has settled in my very bones. She is not just where my home is; she is the foundation upon which I will build my entire world.
When she stirs, her expressive brown eyes flutter open and find mine. A slow, beautiful smile spreads across her face, a true smile, not born of relief or survival, but of pure, simple joy. It is a sight more precious than any victory, more potent than any magic.
We face the clan together. When we emerge from my quarters, I do not release her hand. I hold it firmly, a silent, unshakeable declaration for all to see. We walk through the great hall, where the clan is breaking their morning fast. A respectful quiet falls as we pass. Warriors who cheered my victory now nod their heads, their gazes acknowledging her place at my side. I see Grak and his supporters at a far table. They do not meet my eyes. Their challenge is broken, their influence shattered, but the sullen resentment in their posture is a clear reminder that prejudice does not die so easily. It is a fire that, for now, has been banked. I will ensure it is never given the air to grow again.
I find my father’s war captain, Korgath, and stop before him. “Korgath,” I say, my voice becoming a low, calm command that carries in the quiet hall. “Dina is under my protection. She is to be afforded the honor of a chieftain’s guest. Any who show her disrespect will answer to me.”
The grizzled warrior’s eyes move from me to Dina, and a look of profound, approving respect settles on his face. “They will have to answer to the whole clan, my Prince,” he rumbles. “She is the Sun-bringer who brought you home.”
The name sends a jolt of fierce pride through me.Sun-bringer.It is perfect.
My duties as heir, so long abandoned, call to me. But I will not resume them as the man I was. I will be the man I am now. Later that morning, my father convenes a council with the clan elders to discuss the fortifications at the southern pass. I attend, and Dina is at my side. Some of the older, more traditional elders raise a brow, but they do not dare to question me. Not today.
They speak of war, of building higher walls, of setting more traps. Their solutions are all of brute force. Dina is silent through most of it, listening with a quiet, focused intensity that I have come to know so well.
An elder asks, “What of the prisoners? Lord Jildred and his surviving warriors. What justice do we deal them?”
“An execution at sundown,” Grak’s father snarls from his seat. “A show of strength.”
A murmur of agreement runs through the council. But I look at Dina. I see the faint tremor in her hand.
I place my hand over hers. “You have an opinion, Dina,” I say, my voice quiet, inviting. All eyes turn to her. She flinches at the sudden attention, but then she lifts her head, the quiet courage I love so much shining in her eyes.
“When I was a slave,” she begins, her voice soft but clear, “Lord Jildred’s greatest weapon was not his magic. It was fear. An execution… it is what he would do. It is a tool of fear. It shows nothing but a willingness to be as cruel as your enemy.” She takes a breath. “But to show mercy… to ransom them back to their people, broken and defeated… that is a show of a different kind of strength. It is the strength of a people so confident in their power that they do not need to prove it with blood. It is a strength the Dark Elves, in their arrogance, will never understand. And it will frighten them more than any execution.”
A stunned silence fills the chamber. The elders look at one another, then at my father, then at me. They had expected a quiet, meek human. She has given them the wisdom of a queen.
I watch her in the next few days, and I see her begin to flourish. With the fear of slavery and pursuit finally lifted, the true woman emerges. Her shoulders, once perpetually hunched, are now straight. She smiles more, a brilliant, beautiful thing that lights up her entire face. She is not just my savior. She is my partner, my counsel, my heart. Her compassion is not a weakness; it is the forge that tempered her spirit into unbreakable steel.
That evening, I know what I must do. I find my father alone in his chambers, staring into the flames of the hearth.
“Father,” I say, my voice formal.
He turns, a knowing, weary look in his eyes. “Son.”
“I have come to make a formal request,” I state, my resolve absolute. “I wish to perform the mating ceremony with Dina. I wish to bind her to me, and to the Fire Sun Clan, for all time.”
My father is silent for a long moment, his gaze searching mine. He sees the unshakeable truth of my heart. He gives a slow, solemn nod. “It is your right. You are my heir. And she is worthy of it.” A wave of profound relief washes through me.
“But know this, Xylon,” my father continues, his voice turning grave, a warning from a chieftain, not a father. “The Orcish mating bond is not a human marriage of simple promises. It is a ritual of old magic. It is permanent. Once the vows are spoken and the magic is sealed, it cannot be broken. Not by time, not by distance, not even by death itself. It will bind your souls together for eternity.”
He comes closer, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder, his gaze intense. “Are you truly ready for that? And more importantly… is she?”
33
DINA
