He looks like he'd rather be anywhere else in the world.
"Behold!" Drogath dips his fingers into the clay pot and approaches us with ceremonial gravity. "The sacred binding paint, blessed by moon and fire, consecrated in the name of Cupid the Warrior!"
"This is insane," I whisper.
"Welcome to my life," Kai mutters back.
Drogath reaches for my face with paint-covered fingers, and I jerk backward instinctively. Kai's arms adjust to keep me steady, but he doesn't force me forward.
"The bride resists!" Drogath proclaims this like it's another sign from his gods. "As the texts describe! The worthy mate tests the strength of her chosen warrior's resolve!"
"I'm not testing anything!" The words come out higher than I intend, panic creeping into my voice. "I'm not anyone's bride! I don't even know you people!"
"Of course you don't know us yet," the older orc—the one that called Kai brother—steps forward with paternal authority. "You are human. We are Frostfang. But Cupid has decreed that such differences are meaningless in the face of true destiny."
He nods to Drogath, who reaches for me again. This time, I can't pull back far enough to avoid his touch. The shaman's painted fingers trace a symbol on my forehead—something curved and elaborate that feels cold and sticky against my skin.
The moment his hand touches me, the paint begins to glow.
Not metaphorically. Actually glow, with a soft reddish light that pulses like a heartbeat. Gasps rise from the watching orcs, and Drogath stumbles backward as if he's been struck.
"The sacred bond!" His voice cracks with awe. "Look! Look how the paint burns bright! Cupid's blessing made manifest!"
I stare down at my hands, expecting to see the same glow, but my skin remains normal. It's only where the paint touches Kai that the light appears—spreading from the symbol on my forehead to the painted marks on his arms and chest, making both of us shine like we've been touched by supernatural fire.
"What is this?" I breathe.
"Probably some kind of chemical reaction," Kai says quietly, but his voice lacks conviction. The paint on his skin pulses brighter, responding to something I can't understand.
"The gods have spoken!" Drogath falls to his knees, arms raised toward the moon. "Behold the sign of true binding! Cupid's chosen pair, marked by divine light!"
The watching orcs take up his cry, voices rising in harmony that echoes off the surrounding cliffs. The sound is beautiful and terrifying, primitive in a way that speaks to something deep in my chest. These aren't just raiders or conquerors—they're believers, utterly convinced that they've witnessed a miracle.
And I'm apparently supposed to be half of that miracle.
"This can't be real," I say, more to myself than to Kai. "None of this can be real."
"It's real enough that you're stuck with it," he replies grimly. "At least for now."
The word offers a sliver of hope. Maybe this is just some elaborate ritual that ends with sunrise. Maybe I can endure whatever insanity these orcs have planned and then convince them to let me go.
Drogath rises from his knees and approaches us again, this time carrying what looks like a carved wooden token. Thesurface is covered in symbols that hurt to look at directly—not because they're ugly, but because they seem to shift and change when I'm not focusing on them completely.
"The heart-bond token," he intones, pressing the carving into my hands. "Blessed by Cupid's own touch, a symbol of the union between warrior hearts. Guard it well, bride of Frostfang, for it holds the power of your destined love."
The wood feels warm against my palms, almost alive. I want to drop it, to fling it into the fire and watch it burn, but something in Kai's posture makes me hesitate. He's watching the token with an expression I can't quite read—wariness mixed with something that might be curiosity.
"The ritual has brought forth your bride!" Drogath throws his arms wide, paint-covered face glowing with triumph. "Cupid the Warrior has blessed this union! Let all who witness remember this night, when the gods themselves chose love over distance, hope over despair!"
More cheering rises from the assembled orcs, but I barely hear it. The reality of my situation is finally sinking in through the shock and panic. These creatures don't just think I'm some kind of divine gift—they think I'm going to marry the orc currently holding me.
Marry an orc.
I start struggling again with renewed desperation.
"No," I gasp, twisting against Kai's grip. "No, this isn't—you can't just decide I'm to marry someone! That's not how it works!"
"Actually," Kai says with the tone of someone delivering bad news, "according to their interpretation of human customs, that's exactly how it works."
