Kragor Lake was going to be our new home. A fresh start for all of us. Somewhere where we could be safe.
And yet my awareness drifted—again—to Savla. Always to him.
He stood stiff, jaw tight, eyes fixed forward, as if the news was important but everything inside him was somewhere else entirely. Somewhere troubled and afraid of a bond neither of us had spoken about.
The pull in my chest tightened, an ache blooming under my breastbone. I forced a grin, nudging Enka.
“Well, if Darak’s going, we’re definitely getting a house built. Possibly an entire city block,” I told him.
A few orcs laughed, the tension in the room loosening with it. Everyone turned their attention back to Dristan’s instructions.Everyone except Savla.
He was watching me. Not openly—never openly—but from the corner of his dark eyes, he tracked me. As if making sure I was safely contained in the room. As if part of him already knew what I was trying so desperately to ignore.
The bond and its pull. The inevitability of it.
My stomach flipped with tension, struggling to tell myself that I could wait—that I just needed to be patient. But that was so difficult to do and it was getting harder and harder each day.
I plastered on the biggest smile I owned—the bright, sparkly, everything-is-fine-one—and joked loudly enough for half the room to hear,“Someone please tell me Kragor Lake has fewer things trying to eat me than this place. Every time I’ve been to the city park, something tries to nibble on me.”
Laughter erupted around me. Even Dristan snorted and Penelope tried to hide a grin behind Lira’s fuzzy blanket.
I watched with something close to awa as Savla’s lips twitched. Just the smallest, traitorous twitch.
It ruined me. Absolutelyruinedme.
Because even as I laughed along with everyone else, the fear wound itself tightly around my ribs. If he didn’t want this bond—if he rejected it—if he rejectedme—
I swallowed hard and hid it behind another joke, another smile, another layer of brightness.
Pretend, pretend, pretend.
Until I figured out what to do with a destiny I didn’t ask for. Until I figured out what to do with him. Or what to do if he didn’t choose me back.
The meeting ran into the late afternoon, everyone buzzing with excitement about the Kragor Lake project. I lingered nearthe exit of the gathering hall, clutching a cup of blackberry fizz Penelope had practically shoved into my hand.
Savla was a few feet away, speaking with Darak and Dristan, all three of them built like things meant to lift houses, not merely build them. He stood as stiff as a spear planted in the ground—brooding and unreadable—a stormcloud in warrior form.
The pull toward him hummed under my skin again, warm and maddening. Before I could pretend not to be staring, Rudgar walked up beside me, grinning like he’d swallowed a secret.
“So,” he said, “when are you and Savla planning your shared home?”
I choked on my fizz. “Wh—what? No, no. We’re not—that’s not—”
“Oh, good,” Dristan boomed behind me. “We were just discussing that.”
I spun around and promptly realized I shouldnothave spun around. Because suddenly I was surrounded by a half-circle of orcs and witches, all of them wearing identical ‘we know things’ expressions.
Penelope bounced baby Lira on her hip. “Honestly, I think it’s adorable. Planning your house together is such a sweet way to start a life—”
“Pen,” I squeaked, “please don’t finish that sentence.”
But it was too late. She finished it silently, wiggling her eyebrows.
Savla made a low noise—a sort of rumbling throat-clearing—and looked anywhere but at me. A dark green flush crept up the side of his neck, disappearing into his dark hair.
Dear Goddess Mother, the blush got me. It just got me.
Darak crossed his arms, looking deeply entertained. “She’ll need space for potion brewing. He’ll need a rooftop workshop. They should put them together. It’s more efficient.”
