"This way demands courage." Drokhar clasps my shoulder. "Much harder. Much better."
The communal hall buzzes with conversation and the clatter of wooden bowls against rough-hewn tables. Families cluster around the long benches, human and orc voices blending in a symphony that would have sounded like chaos to my old ears. Now it sounds like home.
I carry my portion of roasted venison and root vegetables to where Kaela sits, reviewing supply lists by lamplight even during the evening meal. Seris occupies herself with Theron across the hall, surrounded by a knot of women who fuss over him like he's the settlement's collective grandson.
"Mind if I sit?" I gesture to the empty space beside Kaela.
"Course not." She shifts her papers aside, making room. "How are you settling in?"
I watch Seris laugh at something Elena whispers, her face bright with genuine joy. The sound cuts through the dining hall's noise effortlessly—sharp, clean, impossible to ignore.
"Better than I deserve."
Kaela follows my gaze. "She looks happy."
"She is. First time I've seen her truly happy since..." I trail off, unwilling to voice the memories of Azhgar's dungeons.
"Since you found each other again."
The words are weighted with understanding. Kaela knows what it costs to start over, to choose love over safety, to build something new from the wreckage of what came before.
I clear my throat, suddenly finding the venison fascinating. "I never thanked you properly. For what you did in that cave. For not turning away when you could have."
"You don't need to?—"
"I do." I meet her eyes, letting her see the sincerity there. "You saved them both. My son exists because you weren't afraid to help."
Kaela's smile carries the weight of old wounds healed over. "We all needed saving once."
The simplicity of it hits me like a war hammer to the chest. She's right—every person in this hall carries scars, visible or hidden. The orc couple at the corner table who fled their clan's blood feuds. The human family whose village burned in a dark elf raid. Marcus, whose own people cast him out for defending an orc child.
All of us broken. All of us choosing to heal together.
Across the hall, Seris catches my eye and waves, her expression soft with contentment. Theron gurgles in her arms, reaching for the wooden toy Old Henrik carved him. The women around her include him in their conversation as if he's always belonged there, as if mixed children are the most natural thing in the world.
In Azhgar, she would be tolerated at best. Here, she blooms.
"You're never going back, are you?" Kaela asks quietly.
The question doesn't surprise me. I've been carrying the answer in my bones for weeks now, feeling it settle deeper with each passing day.
"No." The word comes out steady, certain. "Whatever I was there, whoever I thought I had to be—that's finished."
39
SERIS
The door swings open to reveal chaos masquerading as romance. Wildflowers—actual wildflowers, the first brave blooms of early spring—carpet our wooden floor in scattered handfuls of yellow and white. Candles of varying heights and dubious symmetry cluster on every surface, their flames dancing like drunken fireflies. The wax has clearly been shaped by hands more accustomed to wielding axes than crafting delicate things.
I step inside, shaking mud from my boots, and survey the disaster with growing amusement.
"Well," I call toward the bedroom, where I can see Vargath's silhouette filling the doorway like a mountain deciding to visit indoors. "Either we've been invaded by the world's most romantic bandits, or someone's been busy."
He leans against the frame, arms crossed, looking insufferably pleased with himself. The candlelight catches the ritual scars along his forearms, turning them into rivers of gold against his dark skin.
"Where is Theron?" The question emerges automatically—six months of motherhood have rewired my brain to account for our son's whereabouts before I can appreciate romantic gestures.
His mouth curves into that particular smirk I've learned means trouble of the best kind. "Kaela was kind enough to keep him for the night."
