"I should probably apologize to our neighbors," she murmured.
His chest vibrated with laughter. "Don't. You'll only embarrass them."
"I embarrassed myself."
"You were magnificent." He pressed a kiss to her palm. "Though I should warn you. Orc hearing is quite good. By morning, the whole settlement will know exactly how enthusiastic the captain's new bond-wife is."
She groaned and buried her face in his chest. "I'm never leaving this room again."
"That could be arranged. I'll have food sent."
"For how long?"
"Forever?" He said it lightly, but there was something real underneath. "I could happily spend the rest of my days in this bed with you."
"You'd get bored."
"Never." His arms tightened around her.
"What do we do now?" she asked. "Tomorrow, I mean. And the day after that. What does... normal look like?"
"Normal?" He considered the word. "You'll work at the tannery. I'll command the patrol. We'll eat meals together and sleep in this bed and occasionally scandalize the warriors with how often we sneak away in the middle of the day."
"That doesn't sound very captainly."
"I'm a bonded man now. I have priorities."
She snorted. "What about the humans? The guards, the magistrate, all of that?"
"Targesh sent them running, and they won't be back. Castellan Vorn may rage, but he's a businessman. He won't risk war over one contract." His jaw tightened. "And if he does trysomething, he'll learn very quickly that I protect what's mine." His expression softened. "You're safe, Delia. Truly safe. That threat is over."
She let out a relieved breath. Somewhere underneath all the joy and desire and love, a small part of her had still been waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"It's strange," she said slowly. "I spent so long being afraid. Running. Expecting disaster. And now..."
"Now?"
"Now I'm just... here. Happy. And I don't quite know what to do with that."
His arms tightened around her. "You don't have to do anything with it. Just feel it. Let yourself have it." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "You've earned it."
Silence settled between them, comfortable and warm. The fire crackled softly in the hearth. Outside, she could hear the distant sounds of the celebration still continuing: drums and laughter and voices raised in song.
Her people now. Her clan. Her home.
"Ralvar?"
"Mm?"
"I love you." Delia tilted her head to look at him. In the low firelight, his amber eyes gleamed with warmth she still wasn't entirely used to receiving.
"And I love you, Delia of Northwatch."
"It's Delia Stonefang," she corrected.
He went very still beneath her. "You don't have to—the clan doesn't require—"
"I want to. I choose to." She held his gaze. "I'm not running from Harrowmere anymore. I'm claiming Stonefang."
