not to wake her.
Behind me, my horde was quiet. The gentle glow from the fires was nearly extinguished as my horde members stumbled back to their beds—or someone else’s—drunk on brew, and feasting, and dancing.
But I was right where I wanted to be.
Maeva was draped across my lap, one of her cheeks pressed against my bare chest, right below my right pectoral. My arms were tight around her, as if I feared she’d leave, even in her sleep.
The tears that streaked her face had long dried, though I could still see the tracks of them. She didn’t move though her breaths were even and slow. I kept her warm enough, though I worried about the brisk, frigid air that would freeze the material of her dress that had gotten wet in the lake.
My own boots were soaked. I knew I needed to bring us back to the horde soon but I couldn’t bring myself to move.
Instead, I stroked Maeva’s dark hair—hair I’d always loved, hair that got everywhere, that went wild in the wind, and dried even more curled from Drukkar’s Sea. I listened to her soft breaths and tried to keep my grief gentle and tamed, though I felt it roving inside me like a beast.
Grief that was both for Maeva and for her mother. Grief that was for me.
I couldn’t understand it.
But everything suddenly made sense.
About her piercing anger that would sometimes unleash before she covered it up. About the deep hurt that I sensed inside her. About her mother’s pendant—one I recognized, one I knew Maeva’s pattar had gifted her lomma, one that her lomma had always thought special and cherished. About the way my seffi sometimes couldn’t meet my eyes.
I had thought her hatred of me had stemmed from my rejection of her. From rejecting the love she had so freely and openly and bravely offered me once.
Now, I knew her hatred ran deeper. Her hurt ran deeper. Because it was coated with betrayal and disappointment and confusion and grief. Loss.
I blew out a breath, swallowing hard as I stared out over the lake, my gaze tracking every rippling wave that came towards us with the breeze. Beyond it, I looked to the mountains. Next to us lay the forest, dark and quiet, though I was certain to keep an ear out for any beasts that might be within.
I’d meant to give her time. But when one of the darukkars—one I’d assigned to keep an eye out for Maeva—had come to me, reporting she’d gone beyond the gates, I’d immediately followed.
When I stumbled upon her, she’d been half inside the frigid lake, her dress drifting out around her like a cloud, her hair tumbled down her back. She’d seemed like a goddess to me then, lit by silvery moonlight, standing tall and beautiful. Mesmerizing.
Then she’d turned and I saw her face streaked with tears. Maeva had always been quick to tears when we were younger. Her emotions were always close to the surface. With me, she’d never been embarrassed about her tears, though I knew she didn’t like others to see her cry.
But this Maeva broke something inside me while simultaneously bringing something back to life.
I’d felt this thing shift inside me. My heartbeat came quicker, though my breath became deeper, more full.
And perhaps this thing was more of a decision. One I’d always been aware of. One I’d made long ago.
And that decision was that I never wanted to leave Maeva’s side again…and I never wanted her to leave mine.
It had been hard enough the first time, leaving the saruk, leaving her behind. As a Vorakkar, I learned from my mistakes. I didn’t make the same one twice.
So, right then, I decided that I would make Maeva love me again. Whatever it took. I decided that I would make her my Morakkari. That I would claim her in the old way. That she would be my kassikari, my love, my mate, my queen.
It had always been her. It always would be.
After that decision flowed through me, pure relief followed. Like a breath of air when I’d been submerged for so long. A weight off my shoulders.
Errok had always wondered why I hadn’t taken a queen long ago, as was expected. Most Vorakkars took a Morakkari within the first few years of the horde’s birth, if only to strengthen it.
But I had never shown any interest. Every time I’d thought of it, my stomach had churned and I’d growled at Errok to stop asking me about