"Well spoken, both." Ravelle looks around the assembled camp, taking in the watching faces. "I bring word from House Cyrdan. Your father struggles with your choice. But he has agreed not to pursue or interfere, provided certain conditions are met."
My chest tightens. "What conditions?"
"Regular correspondence, to ensure your wellbeing. Formal recognition of any union, should you choose to make it permanent." Ravelle's smile grows warmer. "And grandchildren, eventually. He quite desperately wants grandchildren."
Cyra laughs, the sound bright as silver bells. "Tell him he may have his wish, in time."
"There's more," Ravelle continues. "I carry documents of dowry and support. House Cyrdan formally recognizes this alliance, with all the trade benefits and political protections that implies."
Elder Thyssa steps forward, interest sharp in her weathered features. "Trade benefits?"
"Iron goods, forged weapons, grain from southern fields." Ravelle produces a scroll from her traveling pack. "In exchange for northern furs, precious stones, and certain mystical services."
The elders exchange meaningful glances. Trade agreements with human houses means prosperity for the entire clan. It's exactly the kind of tangible benefit they hoped this union might provide.
"Your House would risk association with orcs?" Elder Korthak asks skeptically.
"My House prizes results over prejudice," Ravelle replies smoothly. "And my niece has always been an excellent judge of character."
I feel a smile tugging at my lips despite the gravity of the situation. This woman carries diplomacy in her bones, just like Cyra. No wonder she supported the escape plan.
"The Moot has already granted trial-bond status," Thyssa informs her. "One year to prove the union's worth."
"Then I shall witness the trial's beginning," Ravelle declares. "If permitted, I would like to attend the Moonlight Binding ceremony."
My heart lurches. Having human witness to our most sacred rite is unprecedented, potentially offensive. But before I can voice concerns, Elder Drakmoor speaks up.
"The Chronicle mentions witnesses from both peoples," he says thoughtfully. "Perhaps this too follows ancient pattern."
"It would be an honor," Cyra says quickly. "To have family present for such a moment."
Thyssa considers, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nods. "The human may witness, but only as observer. The rite itself remains sacred to our people."
"Understood and accepted," Ravelle agrees immediately.
The crowd begins to disperse, conversations buzzing with excitement and speculation. A human noble attending an orc ceremony, trade agreements, trial bonds as more change in one morning than most have seen in their lifetimes.
Cyra and I stand with Ravelle as the camp returns to normal activity. The older woman studies us both with obvious affection.
"Three nights," she muses. "Barely time to prepare properly."
"Orc ceremonies favor simplicity over spectacle," I explain. "The Moonlight Binding requires only willing hearts and honest vows."
"And the blessing of the ancestors," Cyra adds, her newfound sight letting her perceive spiritual currents I sometimes forget she can see.
"Speaking of preparation," Ravelle says with a sly smile, "I brought something that might prove useful." She returns to her horse and retrieves a carefully wrapped bundle. "Your grandmother's wedding gown. Modified slightly for the occasion."
Cyra gasps as Ravelle unwraps a garment of stunning beauty. Silvery-blue silk shot through with threads of actual silver, cut in flowing lines that speak of both human elegance and practical warmth. Intricate embroidery depicts wolves running beneath starlight as a perfect marriage of our two peoples' imagery.
"Aunt, it's beautiful. But how did you know..."
"I hoped," Ravelle says simply. "And I prepared for hope to become reality."
Cyra embraces her aunt again, tears flowing freely now. "Thank you. For everything. For helping me escape, for believing in me, for..."
"For loving you enough to let you choose your own path," Ravelle finishes gently. "That's what family does."
I watch this reunion with growing warmth in my belly. Cyra will have family at our bonding ceremony after all. Not the cold father who valued political advantage over his daughter's happiness, but the woman who helped her find freedom.
