Dad nods and moves away with the others. Kaelen shoots me a curious look but follows when I jerk my head toward the exit.
Then it's just Zurkar and me in the sacred circle, surrounded by dying torch flames and the acrid smell of burned herbs.
The shaman rounds on me. His weathered face contorts with fury barely held in check.
"Soul-binding magic was abandoned for a reason, you absolute fool."
I knew this was coming. I know he's right. But still I don't back down as I say, "But she's worth it."
14
SERAH
The dwelling they lead me to sits carved into the canyon wall—larger than most, I notice with dull detachment. Of course it is. He's the Chieftain's son. Everything about Rakk is privileged, powerful, chosen.
Everything except me.
Lola helps carry my few belongings inside. The main room is spacious with leather furniture arranged around a stone hearth, shelves lined with clan records and strange carved figures. Large windows cut into the rock allow sunlight to spill across woven rugs. It's warm. Comfortable. The kind of home I might have dreamed about in another life.
Now it just feels like a prettier cage.
"The bedroom is through here." Lola guides me down a short hallway, her voice artificially bright. "And the washroom connects to it. There's heated water, and?—"
"I don't care." My voice comes out flat. Empty.
She winces. "Serah, I know this isn't?—"
"Please leave."
For a moment, I think she'll argue. Try to comfort me with more platitudes about how Rakk is a good male, how this willwork out, how I'll see. But she just squeezes my hand gently and goes.
The door closes behind her with a soft thud that echoes through the silence.
I stand in the center of the main room, surrounded by his things, his life, his carefully constructed world. Evidence of him is everywhere—books stacked on tables, weapons mounted on walls, furs draped over furniture. The space smells like him. That warm, earthy scent that used to make my chest tighten with want.
Now it just makes me nauseous.
I force myself to move. Through the living area, down the hallway, into the bedroom. The bed is enormous—clearly built for an orc male's frame. Dark furs and woven blankets layer across it. A carved wooden frame. More windows overlooking the canyon.
There's a smaller room branching off to the side. When I investigate, I find it set up like a separate sleeping space. A modest bed, simple furniture, shelves for storage. My few possessions have already been placed there—the spare clothing Lola gave me, the bone charm from my mother, nothing else because I own nothing else.
At least he gave me this. A space that's mine. Separate from him.
I almost laugh at the bitter irony. He takes away every choice and then pretends to offer me privacy like it's some grand gesture. Like it makes up for anything.
I sink onto the small bed and stare at the wall. No tears come. I'm too empty for crying, too hollowed out to feel much of anything except this numb ache spreading through my chest.
A week ago, I lay tangled in his arms by the river, tracing the marks I'd left on his shoulders and thinking foolish thoughts. Imagining what it might be like to share a home with him. To nothave to sneak around for stolen moments in the dark. To wake up beside him and fall asleep in his warmth.
I'd wanted this. Gods help me, I'd wanted exactly this.
Just not like this. Never like this.
The first daypasses in silence. Rakk returns after the reception I refused to attend. I hear him moving through the main room, his heavy footsteps pausing outside my door. He doesn't knock. Doesn't try to come in.
Good. I have nothing to say to him.
Later, I emerge to use the washroom and find food left on the kitchen table. Fresh bread, cheese, dried meat. A cup of water. All arranged carefully on a wooden plate.
