Page 38 of The Brute and the Blade

"Simpler, aye," Sharak agrees, his gaze going distant with memory. "But not better, I think. Not truer than what we face now, feel now in the depths of our hearts."

He flicks me a sidelong glance, his eyes keen and searching. "You love her," he says softly. Not a question, but a statement of fact. "The human girl, the Lily who bloomed in the wasteland of your war-sickness."

I close my eyes, letting the truth of it wash over me. Love. Such a small word, a simple word, for a feeling, a force, that threatens to remake me from the inside out, from the roots of my being to the edges of my every breath, my every heartbeat.

"I do," I rasp, the admission scraping my throat raw. "Gods help me, Sharak, I do. More than breath, more than blood. More than anything."

I shake my head, a bitter laugh escaping me. "I'm a fool," I mutter. "A madman chasing a dream that may be nothing more than moonshine and mirrors, fantasy and fever born of a few snatched nights, a few scorching kisses."

"Or," Sharak counters gently, "you're a male in love. A warlord in love with a woman who sees past the blade and the battle to the heart, the hunger that beats beneath."

He claps a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm and grounding. "There's no shame in it, Grok. No weakness in letting yourself feel, fall for someone who sets your soul alight, your spirit ablaze."

"Even if she's the enemy?" I challenge, a growl building in my chest. "Even if she's human, soft and fragile compared to our kind, enemy of our kin?"

Sharak shrugs, his gaze unwavering. "The heart wants what it wants," he says simply. "And if yours has chosen her, the Red Blade, then who are we, who is anyone to say it's wrong? To deny you the chance to chase that connection to the ends of the earth, the edges of existence?"

I stare at him, something hot and fierce kindling in my breast, my blood. Hope, I realize dimly. Validation that I'm not mad, not wrong to feel this way.

"The clan will not approve," I say quietly, the words leaden on my tongue. "They'll see it as a betrayal, a bewitchment that's led me astray, weakened me in the eyes of our enemies."

"The clan will follow where you lead," Sharak retorts, fierce and fearless. "They'll fight for what you believe in, bleed for what you hold dear, because they trust you, Grok. They love you as a warlord, a king who's never steered them wrong, never failed them in all the long years of your reign."

He meets my gaze squarely, his eyes alight with conviction. "They'll follow you to the gates of hell if you ask it of them. If you show them that this female is worth the risk, the rending of all we are as a clan."

I swallow hard, humbled and heartened in equal measure. "And you, old friend?" I ask softly. "Will you follow me into the madness of this impossible quest? For a love, a light that may flicker and fail, gutter and go cold before I ever lay eyes on her again?"

Sharak smiles, grim and resolute. "To the ends of the earth," he vows, echoing his earlier words. "To the edges of existence and beyond, into the void."

He leans in, his breath hot and heavy on my ear. "I'm with you, Grok," he rumbles. "For you, in this, as in all things. My Chief, until the stars fall and the stones crack."

Emotion swells in my chest, a tidal wave of gratitude and affection, allegiance to this male, this mien who's been my shadow and my shelter our whole lives.

"Thank you," I rasp, the words woefully inadequate but all I can manage past the lump in my throat. "Thank you, Sharak. For your faith, your fealty, even in the face of folly, of frenzy."

"Folly is for fools," he grunts, drawing back. "And frenzy is for younglings still wet behind the ears." He grins, fierce and feral. "This is something else, something other than the excitement of youthful infatuation."

His eyes gleam with a knowing light, an ancient acumen. "This is fate. Fate drawing you forward, forging your path towards a destiny that will shake the stars, reshape the story of our people, reveal our purpose for generations to come."

A shiver runs through me, a ripple of recognition, of prescience. He's right, I realize with a sudden, searing certainty. This is the hand of powers, of portents, far greater than my own desires, my own designs.

This is meant to be, made to be by forces, by fates, beyond my ken or control.

She is meant to be, made to be mine. My mate, my must, in all the ways that matter.

And I...I am meant to find her. Fight for her until my last breath, my last beat of a heart, a hope that knows no bounds, no borders when it comes to claiming her, keeping her.

Loving her.

With a roar that shakes the stones, shivers the sky, I surge forward, my steps eating up the ground, my gait goaded by the want burning in my breast, my blood.

Behind me, the warband thunders in my wake, their own cries rising to join mine, a cacophony of courage and commitment to the path I've set before us.

The path to her. To Lily, my heart, my home.

To the female I'll fight for, die for until the very gods themselves bend knee and bow their heads to the bond that binds us, more powerful than blood or skin or heritage.

I'm coming, love, I vow silently, savagely. I'm coming to claim you, crown you as mine, in the eyes of gods and men.

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