The shift was immediate. Relief vanished from his face, replaced by cold shock. He went deathly pale.
With a sudden motion, my brother pushed himself to his feet. He swayed briefly before planting himself in front of me like a shield, body rigid despite his weakness. His instinct to protect me overrode pain.
"Malek Strong-Axe," he spat the name like an accusation.
"Leone, please," I said, reaching for his arm. "He saved me."
Leone hesitated, his stare locked on the massive war axe strapped to Malek’s back.
"He’s our greatest enemy, Fiona. Do you have any idea how many of our people he has slaughtered with that goddess-forsaken axe?"
The accusation stung. I stepped between my brother and the orc who, piece by piece, was carving himself into my life.
"And how many orcs have you killed, Leone?" I countered, my voice sharp. "Malek saved your life. If not for him, you'd be on your way to Ceilte right now, nothing more than a pawn to be used against our father."
"He's an orc, Fi!"
"So am I!"
My words cut through whatever argument Leone was about to unleash, leaving him stunned, as though the truth had only just reached him.
It made sense. He hadn't been there to see me leave Ceilte. He had been away with the guards, chasing Merith, and had missed the bitter arguments that ended in my exile.
Malek, who had been watching in silence, finally moved. He set the bowls on the table and stepped forward, his expression unreadable. Leone stiffened at once, standing before the orc whose deeds were sung in our halls—though never as heroes’ tales.
"I’m your enemy," Malek said, his voice low and controlled. "But for now, you’re in my home, wounded and weak. If you wish to leave, you may go. But I will not allow you to disrespect Fiona."
Shock stole Leone’s voice. The disbelief in his eyes mirrored what I had felt when I first saw him imprisoned in that iron structure.
"He’s right, Leo," I began. "He protected me, trained me, and gave me a place to belong. And now he's risking everything to heal you."
"Why?" Leone whispered, suspicion still weighing on his voice. "Why would he do that?"
Malek’s gaze shifted toward me. The tether of our bargain stirred between us, alive and burning.
"Your sister made her choice," Malek said, his attention fixed on Leone. "Peace between our peoples. She gave me her word."
"Peace? With Oksha?" Leone let out a breath that nearly became a laugh, but it broke into a pained groan. "This is madness, Fiona. Our father would never agree to it."
"He will," I said, the certainty in my voice drawn from years of knowing Alasdair to his core. "If he doesn't want to lose his daughter, he'll listen and do the right thing. Haven’t we had enough of this war, Leo?"
His shoulders sagged, tension draining from them. He dragged a hand through his tangled hair.
"This is madness, Fi. Though I always knew you had a screw loose."
A faint smile tugged at my lips, and he returned it—small, weary, but genuine. It was enough. He would help me. He always had.
"Well," he added, a hint of resolve threading through his voice, "if we're going to upend the natural order of things, we'd better have a plan."
Chapter 20
Malek
It was a strange thing to be in the same space as Lord Leone Kerridan, son and heir to Alasdair, and not split his skull in two with my axe. I gathered Fiona wouldn't be particularly pleased if I did that to her precious brother.
The two of them spoke of Ceilte in the Common Tongue, trading secrets of their realm as though I weren’t right there, drinking in every word. It seemed they truly viewed me as an ally, a development that wasn't entirely unwelcome.
My attention kept drifting toward her, drawn by a pull I hadn't been able to resist since the very first time I saw her. Contrary to what she believed, our first meeting hadn't been in that forest. It had happened almost two centuries ago, when I was captured by her father's troops just after they slaughtered mine.
