“And the curse?” Leone asked Merith directly. “Can you break it?”
Fiona’s entire body stiffened, and her gaze flicked toward me. What I found there was not relief, but fear. It didn’t take long to understand—she feared I would reject her if she returned to her High Fae form.
I rose with some difficulty and, ignoring the lingering pain in my chest, stepped forward until I stood close enough to feel the warmth of her body and breathe in her floral scent. I cupped her face between my blood-stained hands, my heart beating wildly at the softness in her gaze.
She loved me, regardless of who I was, regardless of the centuries of hatred between our people. She loved me—Malek, not the Ruk’hai.
And I loved her. More than anything in this harsh life, I loved Fionnuala Kerridan—the princess of Ceilte, daughter of my greatest enemy—and nothing in this world would have made me change my mind.
“Krash’uk,” I said softly, never breaking eye contact. “Knum Fiona. You could have been blue like the sky or red like a burning ember, and I would still have loved you. You were mine from the moment I first saw you—small, scrawny, staring at me through the bars with those wide blue eyes.”
She inhaled sharply, as if drawing breath for the first time in years, then pulled me toward her, closing the space between us with a kiss. It was not merely affection—it wasa promise. No matter what happened, she would remain my krash'uk.
“If you want to break the curse, I will be by your side.”
“I’m happy like this,” Fiona declared firmly, never looking away from me. “Being an orc taught me to be strong, resilient, and capable of anything. And Malek, you taught me what it means to be free. Today, I choose that freedom—to remain by your side as your equal until the end of our lives.”
Finally, we separated and turned our attention back to Merith and Laurelin. Fiona’s mother wore a wide smile, while the Fae who had once cursed my female regarded her with solemn gravity.
“There’s no curse to be broken,” Merith announced. “The moment your heart made its choice, the magic resolved itself.”
Fiona’s eyes widened as realization dawned.
“To save the one she loves, within her heart a new-born spark must rise and burn anew. And only with a touch of magic shall the curse fade through,” she whispered.
Merith nodded, and this time a genuine smile appeared on her lips. “You made the right choice, Fionnuala. Now fate will take care of the rest.”
My female smiled brightly before turning and leaping into my arms.
“I’m an orc!” she shouted, her joy so pure that I couldn’t help but smile myself.
Around us, the orcs erupted into celebration, and from the corner of my eye, I saw Drak hoist Fiona’s friend into his arms and spin her through the air. May the Great Mother protect her from my friend and right hand—she was going to need it.
“How cheesy,” Leone muttered, though the grin on his face betrayed his words.
“And when will it be your turn, dear?” Laurelin asked with an almost wicked smile. Leone paled instantly.
Our celebration was cut short by the shrill voice of King Faélán, who had finally risen from the ground. His eyes burned with fury.
“Which of you dared to use a spell to bind me?!” he shouted.
“I did,” Merith replied with a shrug. “It was either that or you wouldn’t have listened to Lady Laurelin.”
“Guards, arrest them now! I want their heads—”
“Faélán, enough of this nonsense,” Laurelin interrupted, her voice stripped of all warmth. “Bring my husband here now, along with that treacherous scoundrel, or we will swear fealty to King Aodhán. I am certain he would love to hear what the Autumn Court has been plotting.”
The mention of the Winter Court—and King Aodhán—struck like a blade. Their rivalry with Grìosach was legendary, and the thought of Ceilte aligning with their enemy was a threat Faélán could not ignore.
The rage on the king’s face dissolved, replaced by cold calculation.
“Lady Laurelin, you wouldn’t be so foolish,” he said, attempting to sound superior despite the twitch in his eye.
“I’m the Lady of Ceilte, Faélán. I’m no fool,” she replied calmly. “Either Alasdair appears, or I consider the Autumn Court our enemy. The choice is yours.”
His gaze swept across the clearing—the Royal Guard cornered, the soldiers of Ceilte ready for battle, and my orcs awaiting a single command. There was no path to victory for him.
He sighed, defeat evident.
