Chapter 18

Eighteen

In the days that follow, we don't leave Torren's room a whole lot. After I expressed my worry over taking time off when I'd just started working with Mara, Torren and Morg comforted me by telling me that this is quite usual with newly mated couples. Still, I was concerned, so I met Mara in her office to apologize, and she sent me away just as quickly, saying I was absolutely excused until the first fever burned off. She even had someone drop off food for us so we didn't have to venture out to the great hall, and with that gesture, she became my favorite person in the Hill—apart from my two mates, of course.

I couldn't explain why I was so ravenous for them, but we finally theorized that having two mates just compounded the usual effect of a mating bond snapping into place. If couples were insatiable after they first became mated, fucking often and with great enthusiasm, as Torren expressed himself, it made sense that our situation was an enhanced version of that.

But after several days, I mustered enough will to sit at Torren's writing desk and write my parents a letter to let them know where I'd ended up. I apologized for leaving them so abruptly—but not for my decision to go out on my own, nor my choice of life mates. The next morning, I gave the letter to Korr and Ivy, who were going on a hunting trip in the direction of my old village and agreed to take the letter to my parents.

That was almost a week ago, and I've watched for their arrival every evening since, worried about my parents' reaction. So when I spot Korr's tall form at the entrance to the great hall, I stand from the bench where Torren, Morg, and I are having dinner, and wave at my friends across the hall.

Ivy rushes toward me and wraps me in a tight embrace. Her hands are still cold from outside, and her clothes smell of the wind and woodsmoke, but she clings on to me fiercely, so I hug her back, already dreading the news.

"Let her breathe," Korr murmurs as he walks up to us. He rubs his big hand on her back, soothing her. "I think you're suffocating her."

"Sorry!" Ivy releases me and swipes tears from her cheeks. "I'm just…ugh, I'm so angry on your behalf."

"Well, that can't be good," I say, forcing some cheer into my voice even as my stomach curdles with worry. "Sit with us and you can tell us all about it."

Morg and Torren have been following all this silently, but the moment I take my seat between them again, Morg pulls me onto his lap and wraps his arms protectively around me while Torren grips my knee in support.

Ivy collapses on the bench across from us, and Korr takes his place beside her. She looks around as if to make sure we won't be overheard. I love her for it, for protecting my privacy.

"We arrived at the inn at dusk," Ivy says. "We thought we might as well stay there for the night, give your parents a chance to write a reply and package up the rest of your things if needed."

I nod, because that's what I'd asked them to do—I only took the essentials when I left the inn, whatever I could pack in my saddlebags. I'd even given Korr and Ivy enough money from my weekly wages to rent one of my father's donkeys if needed, so they wouldn't have to carry all my things.

"Well…" She swallows, her throat working. "It turns out, we weren't welcome there. Your father accepted the letter but told us in no uncertain terms that orcs are no longer allowed in his establishment since that mess happened with Uram and Rose." She glances down the hall, where the couple are eating dinner, talking quietly amongst themselves. Then she turns to me and adds, "Please don't tell Rose about this. I don't want her to think…"

"That it's her fault," I finish for her. "Of course not. She didn't do anything wrong."

I'd known my father was mistaken then, and it seems he's grown even more determined to keep orc customers at bay since then.

"What did he say after he read the letter?" I ask. "Did he at least let you wait in the taproom?"

We'd had some horrible rainy weather over the past week, and I can just imagine how dreary our village must have been—and how warm the taproom had always seemed whenever I'd come in from the cold. A sanctuary, a safe space to call home.

Ivy waves her hand impatiently. "No, but that's beside the point. We didn't have to wait long, because he came right back out and said?—"

Her voice stalls then, and she glances at Korr for support. The big hunter lets out a heavy sigh, his kind gaze tired and solemn.

"I'm sorry, Jasmine," he rumbles. "Your father instructed us to tell you that you were no longer welcome in your home."

A cold weight settles in my stomach at his words. "What?"

"He-he said he doesn't want to hear from you," Ivy chokes out. She presses her palms to her reddened cheeks, then sniffles, eyes bright with tears. "I'm so sorry. We've been debating over what to tell you, but I don't want you to ever return to that godsforsaken place. If they think that, they don't deserve you."

Morg's arms tighten around me, and I lean into him, needing comfort.

Torren takes my hand in his, his expression grave as he looks into my eyes. "I don't know if this will make you feel better, but we are your family now. We will never turn our backs on you."

"Never," Morg echoes. "And if you'd like, we can go and have a word with your father."

I shake my head immediately, though I'm still dazed. The last thing I want is to have some sort of fight between my father and my mates. I didn't think he'd cut me off completely, but I knew when I wrote that letter that he wouldn't be happy for me.

"Tell her the better news now." Korr gently nudges Ivy.

She takes a shuddering breath. "I'm sorry. That village just… Every time we go there, I'm reminded why it's good that I left." She clears her throat, then places her hands on the table. "But as Korr said, there's better news, too. Your mother came to find us after we'd made camp for the night."

I lift my eyebrows in surprise. "She did?"

"Aye," Korr confirms. "We took shelter in an old ruin that Rose and Uram told us about. She must have followed us."

"Nearly scared me to death," Ivy grumbles. "Korr didn't hear her because of the rain. I thought the villagers had come after us." She shakes her head, then adds, "She brought a bag of your things. I think she must have dashed to collect it the moment she heard of our arrival."

Korr produces a lumpy linen bag from under the table and passes it to me. I'm still wrapped in Morg's embrace, so Torren accepts it for me. I reach for it anyway, and Morg puts his arms around my middle instead, as if that's all he's willing to let go of in that moment. Then he puts his lips to my neck and kisses me gently, comforting me. The rush of affection I feel for him erases some of the hurt and disappointment that have settled in me since Ivy began telling us what had happened.

I peer inside the bag now, curious about what my mother had packed. I find some stockings, hair pins, a small silver mirror, and a bottle of rosewater she'd given me last year for my name day. There's a slightly dry wedge of hazelnut cake she must have wrapped up for me, and a small coin purse containing four silver coins and a handful of coppers.

"I tried to tell her you didn't need the money," Ivy says dryly, "though I couldn't mention we have a gold vein running through our Hill, of course."

"What?" I snap my head up.

"Oh," she says, covering her mouth with her hand. She throws a wide-eyed glance at Korr. "I'm sorry! I forgot she didn't know yet."

"Thank you, Ivy," Morg chimes in, "for ruining our big surprise. We wanted to take Jasmine there tomorrow."

She looks properly chastened, but I'm more interested in what Morg said. "You wanted to take me to see a gold mine?"

"Aye," Torren replies. "We'd finally received permission from the king to take you. It's our clan's best-kept secret."

"That explains so much," I mutter, thinking of all the gold I'd seen lying around Torren's workbench. Then I focus back on the contents of the bag my mother sent me. "Did she say anything?" I ask, unable to keep the hope from my voice.

Ivy gives me a smile. "She said it would be best if you didn't come by the inn anymore," she admits, "but that if you wanted to, you could write to her by way of her sister. That way, your father won't intercept your letters."

I think of my aunt, living in a village farther south. My mother visited her sometimes, and I'd accompanied her on occasion. I didn't think Mother would have the courage to defy Father in any way, so this little rebellion has surprised me.

"I'll think about it," I find myself saying.

The small bag of my belongings isn't much by way of support. I don't care about the money, but I'd hoped Ivy and Korr would be able to bring back my clothes and shoes, items I'll have to replace now. Still, even though my father has turned his back on me, my mother hasn't, so I have something to be grateful for.

Korr fidgets, his gaze darting at the ceiling every now and then. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was uncomfortable here in the great hall.

Ivy seems to sense his mood, too, because she pats my hand and says, "We'd better head out before they close the main gate for the night. But if you want to talk more, please don't hesitate to visit. We'll see you in a couple of days anyway."

With that, they slip out of the great hall and into the corridor beyond. The dinner crowd at the tables is boisterous and loud as only an orc clan can be, but I feel like I'm protected in a quiet, private bubble with Morg and Torren cuddling me from both sides.

"Your father doesn't seem like a very kind man," Morg comments.

"Morg," Torren growls in warning.

"What?"

"You cannot say things like that," Torren says, exasperated. "They're hurtful to Jasmine."

Morg lets out a huff. "Humans are strange."

"I'm not hurt," I say quickly.

They both stare at me, Morg with raised eyebrows, Torren in plain disbelief.

"Well," I correct myself, "I'm not hurt by Morg voicing the truth. I am hurt by my father's decision, but I don't want to dwell on it."

"Understandable," Torren rumbles. "We are here for you, no matter what."

"Is there anything we can do?" Morg asks, his voice muffled by my hair as he leans his head on my shoulder.

I close the linen bag and grip it tightly. "Can you take me to our room?"

Torren carries our half-finished dinner plates back to the kitchens. Then we leave, Morg still clutching me to his chest. We wave goodbye to friends and family still dining, and they call out their farewells to us. It hits me then that I have so many people at the Hill who have accepted me without question, who never once looked at me funny because I am a human.

Ritta and Sarrai had decided to help me before they even knew my name. Rose forgave me even though my father had kicked her out of her work. Mara gave me the opportunity to prove myself and praised me when I did. Ivy, who I barely knew, welcomed me with open arms and wept for me after my family rejected me.

But most of all, my mates chose me—and chose each other so we may live happily. Torren and Morg set aside years of bickering and competing to love me, and in doing so, they grew to love each other, too.

The realization hits me like a hammer to the head, and I gasp, smacking Morg's shoulder lightly to get him to stop. He halts immediately.

"What's the matter?" Torren asks, his brow furrowing in a frown.

I stare at him, then blurt out, "I love you." Then I palm Morg's cheek, looking him in the eyes, and say, "And I love you. So much."

Morg lets out a bark of laughter. "I know."

Torren lets out a pained groan. "What is it with you young people? ‘I know' is not an acceptable answer to this, you fool." He takes my chin, kisses me fiercely, and adds, "I love you, too, Jasmine. I was waiting for the right moment to tell you because I know how skittish humans can be about this."

"Skittish?" Morg complains. "Why would they be skittish about love?"

I sigh happily, throwing my arms around his neck to tug his head down for a kiss. "Humans are skittish about a lot of things. But I don't want that anymore. I want to tell you how I feel, and what I feel right now is love. For you."

"I feel love, too," Morg says, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "And lust. Desire, too, probably. I feel like I need to have my cock buried inside you soon or I might perish, actually."

Torren slaps his hand over his eyes. "Gods, save me, please."

I giggle, a shining ball of happiness lodging in my chest in place of the melancholy I'd indulged in earlier. I know I'll have to deal with my parents' actions later, but right now, I choose to feel joy. Every day from now on, I'll have that chance because I've found my mates.

"Well then," I say, smiling at them. "We can't have Morg perishing on our watch, Torren. Let's hurry to our room to save him."