Page 60 of The Brute and the Blade

But Krag is quick, quicker than I gave him credit for. He twists at the last second, taking the thrust high in the meat of his chest. A glancing blow, painful but not mortal.

We reel apart, both bleeding, both panting raggedly. I can feel my strength flagging, my body battered and muscles burning, pushed to the limit of endurance.

But I can see it in Krag's eyes, in the set of his shoulders and the tremor in his sword arm. He's weakening too, the toll of our duel, our dance, catching up to him.

It's now or never. Strike now, Lily...or forever surrender the field, and with it the future.

Sucking in a harsh breath, I charge, a war cry tearing from my throat. Krag braces to receive me, hammer cocked back, lips peeled from his bloodied teeth.

At the last instant, I drop and skid, the churned sand slick beneath my feet. I slide between his braced legs like a bolt from a bow, twisting lithely to hamstring him as I pass.

Krag howls, his knee buckling, sending him crashing to the ground. In a flash I'm on him, my blade kissing his throat as my knee digs into his spine, right at the juncture of neck and shoulder. The kill spot, the quick stop.

"Yield," I pant, leaning in close, so only he can hear. "Yield, Krag...and I will not shame you further. I will give you the dignity, the mercy, of a clean death, here in the ring of equals."

A taut, terrible pause. I feel his body bunch and quiver beneath me, feel the rage and humiliation, the thwarted bloodlust, pouring off him in waves.

But in the end, even Krag the Cruel, Krag the Crazed...is not immune to reason. Of salvaging what little pride remains to him, in the face of inexorable defeat.

"I yield," he grates out, the words sounding as if they're being dragged from him on fishhooks, on shards of glass. "I yield...to Lily Thornwood, the Red Blade. The ogre-wife, the queen of peace."

A beat. A breath. And then...the crowd erupts. Cheers and chants, howls of disbelief and begrudging respect. Ogre voices lifted in grudging salute to my strength, my mettle...and human cries of joy, of validation, for their champion.

I barely hear them. My world, my attention, has narrowed to the male who shoves his way into the ring, who falls to his knees at my side and hauls me into his arms, crushing me to the hard heat of him.

"Lily," Grok rasps, his voice shattered, shaking. "Gods, Lily. My heart, my own...you were magnificent. You were..."

But I stop his words with my mouth, surging up to claim his lips in a fierce, fervent kiss. A kiss of triumph, of jubilation.

Of promise, unbreakable and unending.

Around us, the celebration swells and builds, humans and ogres mingling in tentative camaraderie, in the first fragile tendrils of fellowship. Of a future snatched from the jaws of hate and history, forged in the fires of single combat and a commitment beyond compare.

But Grok and I remain locked in our own small world, our perfect, private bubble of relief and ravishment. Touching, tasting, reaffirming with hands and lips and the hot press of heartbeats that we are here, we are whole.

We have weathered the storm, and emerged victorious. Together, as we were always meant to be.

As we will always be, from this day to the last day, and every breath between.

"My love," I whisper against his mouth, my fingers twining in his wild mane, anchoring him to me. "My lord, my liege...take me from here. Take me home, to our chambers...and let me show you, with all that I am, how I adore you. How I need you, now and always..."

24

Grok

The sun dips low on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, as I stand on the balcony of our shared chambers. Lily leans against me, her head nestled in the crook of my shoulder, my arm wrapped securely around her waist.

We gaze out over the land, a patchwork of fields and forests stretching to the distant mountains. A land still scarred by centuries of strife, of spilled blood...but now, finally, tentatively, beginning to heal. To hope.

Like Lily and I, battered but unbroken. Tested to the very limits of our strength, our resolve...and emerging triumphant. Together, as we were always meant to be.

As we will always be, gods willing and ancestors guiding.

"I still can't quite believe it," Lily murmurs, her breath a warm whisper against my skin. "That we're here. That this is real, after everything..."

I hum in agreement, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. "I know," I rumble softly. "It feels like a dream, sometimes. A fantasy too sweet to be true."

She lifts her face to mine, green eyes glinting with mischief and memory. "If it's a dream, it's one I never want to wake from," she declares, stretching up to brush her lips softly over mine. "One I'll fight to keep, with every breath in my body..."

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