Page 63 of Bound By Blood
I sink into the window seat overlooking the courtyard, watching Drokhan's warriors tend their evening fires. From this distance, they look almost peaceful. Just people sharing meals, caring for equipment, settling into rest after a long day's travel.
But I know the truth lurking beneath that peaceful surface. I know the suspicion, the fear, the hatred that centuries of conflict have embedded in both peoples. I know how fragile this moment of cooperation really is, how easily it could shatter under pressure from traditionalists who profit from endless warfare.
Master Willem's right about one thing, the Church won't ignore what's happening here.
When news reaches the capital that House Thorne harbors Orc refugees, that Lord Edran's daughter openly advocates for alliance with traditional enemies, the response will be swift and merciless. Charges of heresy. Demands for recantation. Threats of excommunication that could destroy our family's standing and leave the refugees without protection.
And if they learn the truth about Drokhan and me...
I think of the clan-marks hidden beneath my sleeves. The vows spoken in sacred grotto light, the love that transformedus both. Those bonds feel as real and vital as breath itself, but in Church law and noble expectations, they represent the most damning evidence possible.
I could deny everything. Claim the rumors are malicious gossip. Present myself as a dutiful daughter who endured captivity with piety.
The lies would come easily enough. I've learned diplomatic language during these past months, the art of speaking truth while revealing nothing dangerous. I could retreat to the safety of conventional expectations, abandon the refugees to an uncertain fate, let the alliance crumble for want of support.
Save myself. Preserve the family honor. Let others pay the price for my cowardice.
But when I close my eyes, I see Tam's bright smile as he showed off his healing arm. I see little Briska offering her carved bird with shy pride. I see Gathak's weathered face softening as she speaks of sanctuary for her grandchildren.
I see Drokhan's amber eyes reflecting totem-light as we spoke vows that bind deeper than blood.
I can't. I won't.
Whatever the cost, whatever the consequences, I can't betray the trust of people who've proven their worth through shared struggle. I can't abandon love for the hollow safety of lies. I can't help build a better world by retreating to the prejudices that created the old one.
But tomorrow will bring fresh challenges, more pointed questions, escalating pressure from those who benefit from traditional divisions. And I'm uncertain I possess the strength to withstand that pressure indefinitely.
Two worlds hang in the balance. And I'm the only bridge between them.
The thought should be empowering. Instead, it feels like a burden too great for any one person to bear.
Outside my window, the refugee fires burn steadily in the night, small lights of hope in an uncertain world. Tomorrow will test whether those lights can survive the storms ahead.
Or whether they'll be extinguished by the very people, they're trying to save.
14
DROKHAN
The stone walls of House Thorne feel strange against my weathered hands as I trace the carved reliefs depicting generations of noble lineage. Human artistry lacks the raw power of clan-carved totems, but there's delicate beauty in these flowing lines that speaks to something deeper than mere decoration.
Three days since our arrival, and already the scrutiny presses from every corner of this place. Servants whisper when they think I can't hear. Nobles peer from doorways with expressions that shift between fascination and revulsion. Even Lord Edran's forced courtesy carries an undercurrent of barely restrained hostility.
They see monster where they should see ally.
But Eirian moves through their suspicion with quiet grace, defending choices that could cost her everything. Last night's confrontation with their Church leader revealed the depth of opposition we face. Master Willem's accusations hang in the air like smoke from a poisoned fire, threatening to consume the fragile peace we've built.
"The solution isn't complicated."
Eirian's voice draws me from contemplation. She stands in the doorway of the small chamber Lord Edran provided for our discussions, grey eyes bright with determination that reminds me why I fell in love with this fierce healer.
"Marriage."
The word settles between us. Not unexpected, but carrying a weight that transforms everything.
"Under Church law," she continues, stepping closer. "A formal union that legitimizes our bond in human terms. It's the only way to silence Willem's accusations and provide legal protection for the alliance."
I study her face, reading the complex emotions beneath her controlled expression. Fear mingles with hope, duty wrestles with desire, and beneath it all burns the same fierce love that first ignited between us in sacred grotto light.
