"Better," I say after she successfully executes a combination we've been working on. "Your instincts are good—you're thinking about angles and distance instead of just trying to hit hard."
The compliment brings a flush to her cheeks that has nothing to do with exertion, and something in her expression softens slightly. Not quite a smile, but closer than I've seen from her directed at me.
"I had a good teacher," she says, then immediately looks away as if the words were more revealing than she meant to.
The moment stretches between us, charged with something that feels dangerous and right in equal measure. For just a few seconds, we're not captor and prisoner or divine chosen couple—we're just two people sharing knowledge and discovering unexpected compatibility.
Then Ursik's voice shatters the tension like a stone through glass.
"Well, well. Look at you two, all domestic and training-focused."
I turn to find him leaning against one of the surrounding trees with a grin that suggests he's been watching for several minutes and drawing his own conclusions about what he's witnessed.
"Ursik," I say, and there's warning in my voice that he either doesn't hear or chooses to ignore.
"Don't mind me. Just wanted to see how our divine bride was settling into clan life." His attention shifts to Saela, and his grin becomes something warmer and more genuine. "Looking goodwith that blade, little bird. Kai's a decent teacher when he's not brooding about everything."
And there it is—the easy charm that makes everyone comfortable around him, the casual humor that draws people in without effort. Saela's expression lightens in response, her defensive walls lowering in a way they never do when I'm the only one present.
"He's very patient," she says, and there's actual warmth in her voice. "I expected more criticism of my form."
"Oh, he's full of criticism. He's just being polite because you're pretty." Ursik's grin widens at her startled laugh. "Give him a few more sessions, and he'll be correcting your breathing patterns and the way you blink during combat."
She actually smiles at that—a real smile that transforms her entire face, making her look younger and less burdened by the weight of constant survival. It's the kind of expression I've been hoping to see from her for three days, and watching Ursik produce it effortlessly makes something dark and possessive twist in my chest.
Jealousy. The recognition is unwelcome and entirely inappropriate given our circumstances. I have no right to feel possessive of her smiles, no claim to her attention or warmth. She's not actually my bride, divine or otherwise, and any attraction I might feel is just a complication neither of us needs.
But knowing that doesn't make the feeling go away. If anything, it makes the sharp edge of want more pronounced, more impossible to ignore.
"Well," Ursik continues, oblivious to my internal struggle, "I'll leave you to your very educational training session. Try not to work her too hard, Kai. We need our divine guests in good condition for the upcoming festivities."
The reminder of the Valentine celebrations makes both Saela and me tense simultaneously, the easy warmth of momentsbefore dissolving back into the complicated reality of our situation. She's not just a woman learning to defend herself—she's Cupid's chosen bride, the centerpiece of a month-long celebration that the entire clan is watching with rapt attention.
And I'm not just her teacher—I'm the male she's been chosen for, whether either of us wants that designation or not.
"Right," I say, the word sounding rough. "We should probably head back. It's getting late."
Saela nods, her own expression closing off again as the walls rebuild themselves. The progress we made during training—the moments of connection and mutual understanding—fade behind the weight of expectations and impossible circumstances.
But as we walk back toward the longhouse, I catch her glancing toward the trees with something that might be longing. Not for escape, exactly, but for the freedom to make simple choices like staying outside until dark or deciding when she's ready to stop learning.
Small things. But for someone who's had every significant decision taken away from her, small freedoms might be the most valuable gift I can offer.
Even if offering them makes me want things I have no right to want.
7
SAELA
The week that follows settles into a rhythm I never expected—something almost approaching normal, if you ignore the absurdity of celebrating a warrior god who supposedly shoots arrows to determine the strongest couples.
Shae becomes my guide through the labyrinth of Frostfang customs, appearing each morning with the patient determination of someone who's decided I need proper education in clan life. She's nothing like I imagined an orc woman would be—warm where I expected coldness, protective where I expected aggression. Her deep green skin carries laugh lines around her eyes, and her long black hair stays perpetually braided with small carved charms that click softly when she moves.
"The red ribbons aren't just decoration," she explains one morning, tying strips of crimson cloth around the doorframe of Kai's longhouse. "They're protection symbols. Cupid's color, meant to ward off anything that might interfere with a blessed pairing."
I watch her work, noting the careful precision in her movements. Everything Shae does carries that same deliberategrace—the way she arranges gifts from clan members, the gentle corrections when I accidentally breach some minor protocol, even the casual authority in her voice when she speaks to the other women.
"What happens if someone ignores the protection?" I ask, genuinely curious despite myself.
