"But Drogath said—" Ursik starts, then catches Shae's expression and subsides. "Right. Safe keeping. I'll just... put them with the others."
"Others?" The word comes out strangled.
"Oh, there are more coming," Ursik says cheerfully, apparently oblivious to my horror. "Every family wants tocontribute tokens. It's considered an honor to help bless Cupid's chosen couple."
The room tilts slightly around me. More gifts. More expectations. More evidence of how thoroughly trapped I am in this web of misunderstood traditions and divine intervention.
"Ursik," Kai's voice carries a warning that finally penetrates his enthusiasm. "Maybe save the details for later."
"Right, right. I'll just—" He gathers up his gifts with exaggerated care, then pauses at the door. "Welcome to the clan, little bird. We're honored to have you." Kai follows him out.
The sincerity in his voice makes guilt twist in my stomach. He genuinely means it, genuinely believes that being chosen by their warrior god is something I should celebrate. How do I explain that what feels like honor to him feels like suffocation to me?
After he leaves, Shae gestures to the food she's brought. "Eat. You look like you haven't had a proper meal in weeks."
The observation is accurate enough to sting. I approach the table cautiously, taking in the spread of what looks like roasted meat, flatbread, preserved fruit, and something that might be porridge. It's more food than I've seen in one place since leaving my settlement.
"The Valentine festivities," I say, settling into the chair across from Shae. "What exactly do they involve?"
Her expression grows thoughtful as she considers the question. "According to Drogath's research, they're meant to honor Cupid the Warrior—an ancient human god who used arrows to unite the strongest couples for battle. The whole month is dedicated to proving that bonds forged in his name can withstand any challenge."
I nearly choke on the piece of bread I'm eating. "Cupid the Warrior?"
"You know of him?" Shae leans forward with interest. "Drogath found references in old texts, but many of the details were... unclear."
"I don't," I manage. "But I think there might have been some confusion about the, uh, military aspects. From what I know about humans, especially before the world went to shit, holidays are based around war and battle."
Shae tilts her head, considering this. "Drogath does tend toward dramatic interpretations. But the core message seems sound—that the strongest partnerships are forged through mutual respect and shared trials."
There's something wistful in her voice when she says it, and I remember that she's Bronn's mate. Whatever else I think about the clan leader's politics, Shae obviously cares for him deeply.
"How long have you and Bronn been together?" I ask, partly from curiosity and partly to redirect the conversation away from my supposed divine destiny.
"Twelve years." Her smile softens, taking on the particular warmth that people get when talking about someone they love. "We met during a border conflict with the Ironjaw clan. He was leading a scouting party, I was with the healers trying to retrieve wounded warriors. He got himself nearly killed protecting our retreat, and I spent three days sitting by his bedside making sure he didn't die from blood loss and stupidity."
The fond exasperation in her voice makes me almost smile despite everything. "Romantic."
"Oh, it gets better. When he finally woke up, the first thing he said was to criticize my stitching technique." Shae laughs, shaking her head at the memory. "I told him that if he could do better, he was welcome to sew himself up next time. We've been arguing ever since."
There's something reassuring about her story—the normalcy of two people meeting, clashing, finding common ground. It'sso different from the mystical destiny narrative that everyone keeps trying to apply to Kai and me.
"He's a good man," she continues, her voice growing more serious. "Stubborn as mountain stone and convinced he knows what's best for everyone, but he genuinely cares about this clan. Sometimes that care makes him... inflexible about things that seem important for our survival."
The careful phrasing isn't lost on me. This is as close as she'll come to criticizing her mate's handling of my situation, but the message is clear: Bronn's rigidity about the Valentine ritual stems from protective instincts, not malice.
"And Kai?" I ask, though I'm not sure I want to hear the answer. "What's he like when he's not being forced into divine marriages?"
Shae's expression grows thoughtful, almost sad. "Loyal. Honorable. Careful with the feelings of others, sometimes to his own detriment. He lost someone he cared about a few years ago—a woman from one of the border settlements. The circumstances were... complicated."
My stomach clenches. A human woman. Someone like me, caught between orc politics and human survival. "What happened?"
"Border conflicts. Clan pressure. Fear on both sides." Shae's voice grows carefully neutral. "She died during a Stonevein raid, and Kai has blamed himself ever since. I think that's why he resists this whole ritual so strongly—not because he objects to you, but because he's afraid of history repeating itself."
The words soften me. Kai lost someone to exactly the kind of violence I'm running from. No wonder he looked so resigned last night, so grimly determined to find a way out of this situation. He's not just being forced into an unwanted marriage—he's being forced to risk losing another person he might come to care about. But he also wouldn't let me go.
A commotion outside interrupts my thoughts. Voices raised in greeting, the sound of multiple footsteps approaching the longhouse. Shae glances toward the door with mild curiosity.
"That'll be more visitors," she says. "Word spreads quickly about divine miracles. Every family in the clan will want to meet Cupid's chosen before the day is through."
