I didn’t know how it was possible, but I fell even deeper for Malek. For an orc who had spent his life hunted by my people, his acceptance of my magic was more than a gesture of trust—it was an act of courage.
I cupped his hands in mine and, with a touch of magic, let the An Talamh flow. Between our fingers, tiny sprouts pushed through the soil, blossoming into flowers whose colors were impossibly vivid for that long-punished earth. Malek drew in a sharp breath. His eyes widened, reflecting the glow of the newborn petals just as they had when he first laid eyes on the Ashe.
"Incredible, akra’yn," he said, marveling. "You’re incredible."
My cheeks heated at the compliment, and even more so at the way he was looking at me—not like someone evaluating my power or usefulness, but like I was precious.
Malek traced his massive fingers over the petals with surprising gentleness; the sight of his large hands moving so carefully over the delicate flowers was almost comical if it weren’t so deeply moving.
Then he picked one of them and placed it behind my ear.
"Krishn orok ‘n hkai, akra’yn," he whispered, his eyes locked on mine, shining with so much affection that my legs trembled.
I had no idea what the words meant, but I didn't need to speak Okshakai fluently to understand him.
Some feelings didn’t need translation.
"I love you, Malek Strong-Axe," I declared in the Common tongue, surprised by the ease with which the words flowed.
He blinked, his eyes fixed on mine, the admiration in his expression pure. Malek said nothing, but the intensity of his gaze deepened. Slowly, like we had all the time in the world, he kissed me.
The kiss was a promise—a mutual acceptance of what we had just confessed. A warmth spread through my chest, but it was different from the heat of the An Talamh; this one was gentle, coming from his very soul.
When we pulled apart, the glow of the tiny flowers was the only light between us, flickering as if they might dissolve at any moment. Malek’s fingers traced my cheek, and a simple smile curved his lips.
"Let’s go home, krash’uk," he said, pulling me toward him.
As we walked side by side back to his cabin, I felt the night’s chill envelop us. But the warmth of his hand in mine—and the certainty that he felt the same as I did—was enough to keep me warm.
Chapter 26
The screams were the first thing that tore me from sleep.
Malek bolted upright in a single leap, as though he had already been waiting for the chaos. In seconds, he got dressed, his body tense, and his fingers closed around the axe propped beside the bed. The weapon emitted a low hiss when he lifted it.
My mind was still struggling to grasp what was happening when the next scream tore through the air, louder this time.
"Kir’shakur! Kir’shakur!"
The warning made my entire body lock up. Fear paralyzed me, chilling the very blood in my veins.
"What’s happening?" My voice came out in a whimper as I scrambled to my feet.
I reached for my clothes scattered on the floor, pulling them on with trembling hands, still stumbling while my heart hammered so loudly it felt ready to burst from my chest.
"Invasion," he answered, his voice controlled, though the tension in his jaw gave him away. "Stay here."
"No!" I shot back, stepping forward until I stood inches from him, gripping his massive arm. "I’m going with you."
Malek’s gaze was a silent command, a clear signal that there was no room for discussion. He didn't want me to go. But nothing in the world would make me stay hidden while the High Fae attacked the village.
Seeing the determination etched across my face, Malek let out a slow breath and nodded, though he was clearly against it.
"Go to your brother."
I grabbed my axe and turned to leave. This time, he caught me by the arm. The grip was urgent.
"And, krash’uk… be careful."
