“Bring Alasdair and Lord Fenric,” he ordered stiffly.
Before long, two guards emerged from the castle, escorting two prisoners. One I recognized immediately—Fenric, his arrogance still clinging to him despite his circumstances. The other I remembered only faintly from years past.
Alasdair Kerridan.
He was tall, standing just under six and a half feet, with a proud face and unmistakable noble bearing. His hair matched Fiona’s and Leone’s, though his eyes were a sharp gray. When I had been abducted at eleven springs, he had inspected all the orc children. When he reached me, he had stopped the others from hurting me. Instead, he locked me in a cell alone and forgot me there until the day I escaped—thanks to his daughter.
That same male, upon seeing his family, abandoned all composure.
“Alasdair!” Laurelin cried, running forward and throwing her arms around him.
He held her tightly, burying his face in her hair as though afraid she might vanish if he loosened his grip. The moment felt deeply intimate—so personal that watching felt almost wrong.
“Laurelin… You’re safe.”
When Alasdair finally lifted his gaze toward Fiona and Leone, tears filled his eyes.
“My children… I’m so proud of you.”
The embrace that followed was desperate—hands clutching tightly, silent tears falling, as if the simple act of touching one another confirmed they were alive. It was a beautiful and painful sight, peace earned at a terrible cost.
“There, you have what you asked for,” Faélán snapped with visible irritation. “Now leave my lands before I have you driven out with arrows.”
We didn’t linger to see if he would change his mind.
Chapter 32
We left Grìosach with the bittersweet taste of victory. The guards of Ceilte and the orcs marched side by side, with Fenric dragged between them in shackles around his hands and ankles. At first, he tried to complain about his treatment; however, a single sequence of snarls from the orcs around him was enough to keep him quiet. Even the Fae soldiers seemed fed up with him and everything he had caused. Merith departed from us without saying another word. Her work there was already done.
The price we paid was far too high to ignore. Fae and orc lives were lost, not only in this battle but also during the invasion of Oksha. Every step forward carried the weight of those who couldn’t return, reminding us that no victory was complete when it was paid for in blood.
We walked in silence until we reached the borders of Marukoksha, and then it felt as if a weight had been lifted from our shoulders. We stopped to rest in a clearing near the riverbank, the very same one I had found when I first fled from Ceilte.
The soldiers rested, some even exchanging a few words with the orcs, which gave me hope that one day we could be a united people. I pulled Malek close to my family. My father looked exhausted, probably because he hadn’t slept in days. His clothes were filthy, and his hair was greasy. Even so, hugging him felt like coming home after a long journey.
He let out a raspy sigh, squeezing me against his chest, despite my towering height.
"My dear..." he said with a weary smile. "I believe you and your brother have aged me several years.”
"I'm sorry for worrying you, Papa," I said, patting his back.
"At least she's no longer our responsibility now," Leone joked, his arm draped over my mother’s shoulders. "This headache belongs to Malek."
"Watch it, brother," I shot back with venomous sweetness. "Without the favorite daughter to worry about, their attention is going to be entirely focused on you. I can already hear the wedding bells."
The sarcastic little smirk on his face vanished instantly. My mother, who never missed a chance to tease us, nodded in agreement.
"I already have a few suitors in mind. We’ll talk once we’re back in Ceilte."
“What?” he nearly choked. “What suitors?!”
I ignored his meltdown and pulled Malek closer to me.
“Mama, Papa…” I began calmly. “I want to officially introduce my mate, Malek.”
“Ruk’hai Malek ‘o Melk’or, of the Oksha clan,” Malek said, stepping forward to bow, his posture still commanding and dignified.
He still distrusted my parents. Years of war and blood weren’t easily erased; certain memories embedded themselves too deeply to be forgotten. Despite that, he was willing to try, and that was all that mattered.
