Page 35 of Bound By Blood
"What was necessary." The priestess doesn't flinch under his glare. "The human claims to serve our clan. We tested that claim."
"By risking a child's life?"
"By proving her power." Ghasha gestures to the sleeping boy, whose breathing now comes steady and deep. "See for yourself, Chief. The Kheval fires burn in her veins."
Drokhan's gaze shifts to me, taking in my exhausted state, the fading glow along my wrists. Something unreadable flickers across his features, pride, concern, and that troubling fear I glimpsed before.
"Leave us." His command rings with absolute authority.
Vega and Thila exchange glances but obey immediately. Ghasha lingers, studying me with calculating eyes.
"Remember, human. Power demands purpose. Choose yours wisely."
Then, she too melts into shadow, leaving us alone with the sleeping child.
Drokhan kneels beside me, massive hands hovering just shy of touching, as if I might shatter under his fingers. "Are you hurt?"
"Tired. Nothing more." I lean into his warmth, grateful for his solid presence. "How angry are they?"
"Angry enough." His jaw tightens. "The council demands answers I don't have."
"What kind of answers?"
"Whether you're blessing or curse. Whether our bond strengthens or destroys the clan." He lifts the child carefully, settling him on a bed of soft furs. "Whether I've forgotten my duty for human flesh."
The crude phrasing stings, even though I know he's repeating their words, not his own. "And what do you believe?"
"I believe," he says slowly, "that you saved a life today. That your power flows clean, without malice." His eyes find mine. "But belief isn't enough for some."
Of course it isn't.I should have expected the suspicion, the testing, the demand for proof of loyalty that will never quite be enough. I've seen it before, in my mother's careful navigation of House politics, in the way noble families circle perceived weakness like vultures.
"They'll keep testing me."
"Yes."
"Until I fail or break."
"Until they're satisfied you pose no threat." He settles beside me, close enough that his heat warms my skin. "Or until they decide the risk is too great."
And then what? Exile? Execution? Another convenient accident in the borderlands?
The questions taste bitter, but I don't voice them. Drokhan already carries enough weight without my fears adding to the burden.
"I should go back to my chambers. Let you handle your council without distraction."
"No." His hand catches mine before I can rise. "There's someone you need to meet first." We carry the boy to the healing room and leave him for the healers to watch.
He leads me deeper into the grotto, past healing pools and herb gardens, toward sections I've never explored. The air grows cooler here, heavy with incense and the electric anticipation that precedes thunderstorms.
We stop before a narrow cleft in the rock face, barely wide enough for one person. Drokhan hesitates, then speaks a phrasein Old Orcish. The stone seems to shimmer, revealing a hidden passage.
"The seer's sanctum. Few are permitted entry."
"Why are you bringing me here?"
"Because Morketh sees what others cannot. Her counsel might illuminate your path."
Or condemn it.But I follow him through the passage, emerging into a circular chamber lit by phosphorescent crystals. Symbols cover every surface, not the clean, geometric patterns of Kheval magic, but something older, wilder, carved when the world was young.
