Page 91 of Savage Devotion
"My uncle will never accept this," I admit. "He sees Orcs as animals to be contained or exterminated, not people to be partnered with."
"Then perhaps it's fortunate," Thrakul says quietly, "that this treaty requires the signature of a Vaelmark heir, not necessarily the current Vaelmark commander."
Heir.As Heldrik's niece, as the last direct descendant of the Vaelmark line, I carry a legal authority that supersedes his military command for binding the House to formal treaties.
He knows.Somehow, this War-Binder has researched our family structure, our laws of succession, our internal politics. This isn't just diplomatic overture, it's carefully planned opportunity.
"You're asking me to commit treason," I whisper.
"I'm offering you the chance to commit peace."
Treason implies betrayal of legitimate authority, but what if that authority itself betrays the welfare of the people it claims to serve? What if tradition becomes a chain that binds us to destructive cycles?
I look at Kaelgor, seeing in his eyes the same mixture of hope and uncertainty churning within me. This treaty represents everything we've been building toward, the formal recognition of what we've already discovered, that unity serves us betterthan division, that cooperation creates strength rather than weakness.
But it also represents choice with consequences extending far beyond our individual partnership. Signing would bind not just myself but my entire House, would create ripple effects across the political landscape, would transform personal relationships into political statements.
"If I sign this," I say slowly, "there's no going back. No retreating to safe neutrality or claiming I was coerced."
"True," Thrakul acknowledges. "But if you don't sign it, there's also no moving forward. No building on what you've already created. No transformation of possibility into reality."
Forward or backward. Growth or stagnation. Change or familiar suffering.
I trace the treaty's text with my finger, noting the careful language that protects both peoples' interests while creating framework for genuine cooperation. This isn't surrender disguised as peace, but genuine partnership built on mutual respect and shared benefit.
"There's more," Thrakul says, producing a second document from his scroll case. "A personal addendum, if you're willing to consider it."
This parchment carries different markings, more intimate somehow despite its formal structure. The text is shorter, simpler, but the magical seals are more complex, binding not just political entities but individual souls.
A marriage contract.
The words blur as I read them, not from tears but from the sheer magnitude of what they represent. Formal bonding between Orc warrior and a human noble, the alliance that transforms choice into a political symbol, that makes private relationship into a public statement.
"You're proposing that Kaelgor and I..." I can't finish the sentence, the implications too vast to articulate.
"I'm providing a legal framework for what already exists," Thrakul corrects gently. "The bond between you carries weight whether formally recognized or not. This simply makes it official, gives it political protection, transforms personal unity into diplomatic tool."
I look at Kaelgor again, searching his face for a reaction to this unexpected development. His expression shows surprise but not dismay, consideration rather than rejection. Something in his eyes suggests this possibility has occurred to him, even if he never expected it to arrive in such formal terms.
Marriage.The word carries different weight among our respective peoples, but the core concept remains consistent. The binding of lives and futures, the choice to face whatever comes together rather than separately.
"What do you think?" I ask him quietly.
"I think," he says carefully, "that what matters isn't what others call our partnership, but what we make of it."
Practical as always.But beneath the pragmatic response, I sense deeper currents of hope and fear in equal measure, the formal bonding would protect what we've built while also exposing it to greater scrutiny.
"The clans would accept this?" I press Thrakul. "A formal bond between their warrior and enemy noble?"
"The clans sent me here precisely because they already accept it," he replies. "What you've accomplished together speaks louder than tradition. Honor recognizes honor, regardless of species or heritage."
Honor recognizes honor.The phrase resonates with something deep, the same certainty that drove me to trust Kaelgor with my life, to choose partnership over isolation, to stand beside him against my uncle's blade.
"And my people?" I glance toward the watching camp. "What happens when word spreads that I've bound myself to Orc warrior?"
"Some will call it betrayal," Thrakul acknowledges. "Others will call it wisdom. Time will judge which assessment proves correct."
Time will judge.But time requires surviving the immediate consequences, weathering the storm of reaction and response, building something strong enough to endure pressure from all sides.
