Page 63 of The Brute and the Blade

As friends. As family, in the truest and most profound sense.

Lily and I step down from the dais to move among our people. Our pack, human and ogre alike, united not by blood...but by something far more enduring.

By hope. By heart. By the unshakable conviction that we are stronger together than we ever were apart. That our differences are not weaknesses...but wellsprings of possibility.

As we move through the crowd, accepting congratulations and offering encouragement in turn, I catch sight of a familiar figure lingering at the edges of the hall. Sharak, my oldest friend and fiercest supporter, watching the proceedings with a glint of pride in his dark eyes.

I squeeze Lily's hand, catching her gaze with a tilt of my head. "I'll be back in a moment, love," I murmur, leaning down to press a quick kiss to her cheek. "There's someone I need to speak with..."

She follows my line of sight, her smile softening with understanding. "Of course," she murmurs back, giving my fingers a squeeze before releasing me. "Take your time. I'll hold down the fort here."

With a grateful nod, I make my way through the press of bodies, acknowledging greetings and good wishes with a distracted smile and a clasp of shoulders. My focus is entirely on the grizzled warrior waiting for me, a tankard of mead cradled negligently in one scarred, slab-like hand.

"Some shindig," Sharak drawls as I reach him, taking a long pull of his drink. His eyes, sharp and shrewd as ever despite the haze of alcohol, sweep over the crowded hall, the unprecedented mingling of ogre and humankind. "Never thought I'd see the day when our folk and theirs would break bread together. Let alone bury the hatchet, outside of each other's skulls."

I huff a laugh, clapping him on the shoulder as I lean against the wall at his side. "You and me both, old friend," I admit wryly, snagging a tankard of my own from a passing server. "There was a time, not so long ago, when I would have slit my own throat before even contemplating an alliance with the humans."

Sharak grunts, a sound balanced on the knife's edge between amusement and agreement. "And now look at you," he muses, something slow and awfully close to sly unfurling in his tone. "Not just contemplating...but celebrating. And with a human wench at your side, no less. Your queen and co-conspirator."

I stiffen, hackles rising instinctively at the perceived slight. But then I catch the glimmer in Sharak's gaze, the wry twitch at the corner of his mouth...and the fight goes out of me in a rueful rush.

"She's no wench," I correct mildly, taking a long swallow of mead, the honey-sweet burn of it soothing my throat, my temper. "She's a warrior. A leader in her own right, with a strength and strategic mind that puts most warlords to shame."

I feel my expression softening, going warm and a little wistful as my gaze finds Lily across the room. Watches her move among the mingled clans, her smile bright and her bearing proud as she converses with ogre and human alike. A bridge between worlds, a living embodiment of all that's possible...

"She's a marvel," I murmur, more to myself than to Sharak. "A miracle I scarcely deserve, but which I'll spend the rest of my days cherishing. Protecting."

Sharak is silent for a long moment, the weight of his regard heavy on the side of my face. Then, slowly, he reaches out to rest a gnarled hand on my shoulder, a rare gesture of affection from the taciturn warrior.

"You're a lucky sod," he says gruffly, a rough burr of emotion under the words. "And for what it's worth...I think you're doing the right thing. The brave thing, trying to forge a future where our kinds can coexist instead of tearing each other to pieces."

His grip tightens fractionally, his eyes going distant and dark with memory. "I've seen too much death," he rasps, a shadow of old grief, old pain, flickering over his weathered features. "Too much waste and ruin, all in the name of a feud whose origins most can scarcely recall. If there's a chance, however slim, to break that cycle...to build something new from the ashes..."

He shakes his head, meeting my gaze squarely. "Then it's a chance worth taking. Worth fighting for...the way you've always fought for what you believe in."

I swallow hard around the sudden lump in my throat, the sting of salt at the backs of my eyes. "Thank you," I manage hoarsely, reaching up to grip Sharak's forearm in the warriors' clasp. "That means more than you know, coming from you. My ally, my true north..."

"Ah, enough of that drivel," Sharak grouses, but there's no real bite to it. "You outgrew the need for my council long ago when you killed your first Arach. You're your own male now, Grok. One I'm proud to call warlord and friend."

The words strike home like a blow, like a benediction. Settle into my bones, my being, lending strength and surety to my spine, my resolve. If Sharak, stalwart scion of the old ways, can see the wisdom, the necessity, of this new path...

Then maybe, just maybe, we actually have a chance. A real, fighting chance to make this dream of peace a reality.

"Speaking of friends," Sharak continues slyly, nodding his chin towards the open doors at the back of the hall. "Seems to me you've got a rather fetching one waiting for you, just out of sight. One who looks like she could use a moment of her mate's...undivided attention, if you catch my drift."

I follow his gaze to see Lily slipping out into the night-shrouded gardens beyond, her smile tinged with mischief and anticipation over her shoulder. An inviting crook of her fingers, a flash of flushed skin at the neckline of her dress...

My blood heats, my heart kicking into a gallop. I drain my tankard with a last bracing swallow, wiping stray drops from my chin as I clap Sharak on the back.

"Duty calls," I drawl, already moving towards my lady, my love. "Best not keep her waiting any longer, eh?"

Sharak's knowing chuckle follows me out into the cool, quiet dark, chased by a ribald shout from some other wag further down the table. But I scarcely heed it, my focus drawn inexorably to the lithe silhouette awaiting me, a pillar of moonlight and sweet feminine mystery.

"Hello, wife," I rumble as I reach Lily, enfolding her in my arms, heedless of propriety. Inhaling the scent of her, wild rose and musk and just the faintest hint of the lavender oil she likes to dab behind her ears. "Fancy meeting you here..."

She laughs, low and liquid, pressing sinuously against me. "Well met, husband," she purrs, twining eager arms around my neck. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me, so deep in conversation with others..."

I growl playfully, one hand sliding down the smooth curve of her back to palm the ripe swell of her ass. "Impossible," I vow heatedly, nipping at the tender skin beneath her ear. "You're always first and foremost in my thoughts...even when matters of state must take temporary precedence."

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