Chapter 13

Chapter

Thirteen

Dawn and I hunker down at Gorvor’s desk to plan a dinner party for Ozork and a small number of invitees. Anyone who’s close to him will want to come, so we send Vark out with a stack of quickly penned invitations, all warning the guests not to mention anything to Willow. Ozork stops by, his expression tense, until I hug him tight and congratulate him. He visibly relaxes after that and offers to venture out into the forest for some holly and pine boughs for decoration.

We send Steagor off to the kitchens with a note from me, requesting a special feast to be sent here—a rare enough occurrence that I know the kitchen staff won’t mind. When he returns, bringing a reply from Earna, I grin at the head cook’s words.

“She says it’s been too long since she had an opportunity to cook up a feast.” I look up from the letter, glancing at Dawn. “Apparently, she has already forgotten about the harvest festival. I should remind her that the winter solstice is coming up. But she says that Korr and Ritta brought in several grouse she’ll slow-bake for us, as well as a slab of boar roast she’s been wanting to use up from the larders.”

“Mm.” Dawn snags an apple from the mostly empty breakfast platter. “We should plan dinner parties more often.”

One by one, the replies from the invitees trickle in, and I collect them on Gorvor’s desk. It’s shaping up to be a lovely, intimate event, and I’m so glad Ozork will get the recognition he deserves. I only hope Willow will appreciate everything he’s doing for her.

A knock at the door has us looking up, and Dawn calls out, “Enter!”

The door opens a fraction, and Owen’s head pokes inside. I know it’s him immediately, recognizing his blond hair first, before his delicious scent wafts to me.

I’m up and rushing toward him before I even register my decision to do so. “Hello.”

“Mara.” He sounds relieved as he takes my hand and squeezes my fingers, then presses his lips to my knuckles. “I’ve been searching all over for you.”

“Oh!” I glance back at Dawn, who’s watching us with undisguised interest. Then I grasp the front of his tunic and tug him lightly into the room. “We’re planning a party for Ozork, and we might need your help.”

Dawn and I launch into the explanation of what will happen tonight, and Owen listens, his gaze brightening as he realizes what we’ve planned.

“That’s brilliant. The duke won’t like it, but from what Lady Willow has told me, that should solve her problems nicely.” He laughs, his voice echoing in the chamber. “Oh, what I wouldn’t give to witness that conversation.”

I grin. “I’m glad you approve.”

He stares down at me, his gaze warm. “Of course. How could I not?”

Dawn clears her throat. “I’ll, uh, I’ll go and pick up Arvel from school now. You two can finish the seating plan. And Captain Hawke, it’s so nice to see you settling in.”

I shoot her an exasperated look, but she’s already bustling out the door, her shawl trailing behind her.

“That was…subtle,” Owen murmurs, glancing sideways at me. “Do we really have to finish a seating plan?”

His gaze burns into me, and he slides his hand over the top of the desk toward me, touching his little finger to mine.

I squirm in my seat, pressing my knees together. “There’s a good chance Gorvor or one of the others will return shortly. And yes, we do need a seating plan. We at least need to know the final number of those attending, including any children, or we might not have enough seats.” Then I lean closer, moving my chair until my thigh brushes his. “But I haven’t seen you since last night. So…perhaps a kiss?”

I barely finish speaking before Owen’s lips touch mine. He palms the back of my neck and tips my head up, then deepens the kiss, parting my lips with his tongue. I grasp the front of his tunic and draw him closer. I wish I could crawl inside him, climb into his lap and show him just how much I want him, but I settle for kissing him back just as passionately.

“Mara.” He sneaks his hand down to my hip and draws me closer. “I don’t want this to end.”

I pull back, staring at him. He blurted out the words, and they hang between us, a start of something we might not be able to undo. For a moment, Owen seems uncertain, as if he might want to take them back, but then he grits his teeth and looks down at me steadily, waiting for my answer.

Something unclenches inside me, then peels away, a protective layer I’ve built around my heart and that fragile little tendril of hope.

“Neither do I,” I breathe. “ Can you stay? You said?—”

“I know.” He leans his forehead against mine. “But the thought of leaving here…”

Owen shakes his head and rubs his sternum as if it hurts, and I understand the sentiment perfectly.

“There’s more I need to tell you.” I clench my fingers around his hand. “More you have to know before you make your final decision.”

He studies my face, then gestures to the lists and notes strewn across the desk. “Can you leave now?”

I bite my lip in frustration. “I promised I’d do this for Ozork. He’s been—he’s family to me, Owen. I can’t let him down.”

“I’d never ask that of you.” He leans in for another quick kiss, then pulls back and nudges my elbow. “Tell me what to do.”

We work side by side until Ozork shows up again, arms full of winter greenery, his weathered, craggy face almost glowing with excitement. He informs us that he’ll be leaving to see Willow, then turns to Owen.

“Could you meet us in front of Willow’s bedroom before dinner?” he asks. “I’ll have to hurry here and talk to the king about the final details, but she’ll want to come with me unless you’re there to escort her.”

Owen inclines his head. “Of course. I’ll be there a half hour before dinner, is that all right?”

Ozork shakes his hand firmly, then leaves, but before I can comment on how much happier he seems now that he’s found his mate, Dawn appears, carrying Arvel on her hip. The prince is teething—again—and is fussy, so we do our best to distract him with his wooden blocks and a large piece of carrot to gnaw on. Owen gives me a small smile when he sees me carrying the little one around the room, cooing to him, but he doesn’t say anything—just another thing we’ll have to discuss later.

He leaves soon after to fetch a pair of long tables from the great hall with Steagor, and returns, his face pink with exertion from hauling heavy pieces of furniture halfway through the Hill. They do several trips to bring in enough chairs, and I give Arvel back to Dawn so I can fetch the table linens and arrange the holly and pine in neat bouquets.

“This looks amazing,” Dawn exclaims as she emerges from her bedroom, where she’d put Arvel down for a nap. “I’m so glad we’re doing this.”

I hum in agreement. “I think we’re done for now. Earna said she’ll use some of the young ones on kitchen duty to bring over the food, so we don’t have to worry about that, but I do need a bath.”

She grins up at me. “I have to admit that having our own pool is a luxury.”

“Aye, I can imagine.” I pout a little, then wink at her. “I was jealous when Gorvor claimed this set of rooms. But mine are closer to the kitchens, so I guess it all levels out in the end.”

The thought of submerging myself in the hot water has me moving toward the door. Just when I’m about to reach for it, it opens on its own—or rather, it’s Vark, Steagor, and Owen carrying stacks of dinner plates and handfuls of cutlery.

“Are you leaving?” Owen asks. He sets the plates on one of the tables and turns back to me. “Will I see you later?”

“Of course.” I resist the urge to kiss him again, but we haven’t talked about what we want to do in public, and besides, Dawn, Vark, and Steagor are watching our exchange with interest. “I’m only going to the baths before dinner.”

Vark puffs out his chest. “That’s a brilliant idea.”

I squint up at him. “What?”

“Aye.” Steagor slings a heavy arm around Owen’s shoulders and brings him closer to his side. “I spoke to Poppy on the way here, and she’s taking a nap before dinner, so I have an hour to kill. Let’s all go together.”

“Oh.” Owen’s eyes widen almost comically. “I, ah, I’m sure?—”

“You’ll want to bathe before dinner, my friend.” Vark leans close to sniff at my mate. “Orcs have a very delicate sense of smell.”

Poor Owen flushes pink, and I’ve had enough of them teasing him. I glower at Steagor until he drops his arm back to his side and sends me a contrite smile—though he doesn’t rescind his offer.

I nudge Vark out of the way, ignoring his grinning face, and loop my arm through Owen’s. I yank him out of the room, waving at Dawn as we leave.

Owen matches my steps easily, then bends his head close to whisper, “Is this some sort of, ah, acceptance ritual?”

Somewhere behind us, Vark’s laughter booms out, echoing down the corridor. He and Steagor are following us, apparently committed to the idea of going to the baths.

“No, that’s just my friends showing their age,” I snipe, knowing full well they can hear me. Then I lower my voice and add, “If they’re making you uncomfortable, tell me, and I’ll ask them to back off. But really, they’re harmless.”

“Hey, now,” Steagor complains. “That’s not a nice thing to say about your oldest friends.”

“ Former friends,” I call over my shoulder. I face Owen again. “What I’m saying is, they will not try to drown you in the pool.”

His blond eyebrows climb up. “I’m not certain this is a good enough endorsement.”

More snickers from behind us. I’m about to demand that they go elsewhere when Owen pats the hand with which I’m gripping his arm.

“It’s all right,” he says, his lips tipping up at the corners. “It’ll be good to get to know your family.”

I let out a tense sigh. “Aye, I understand. But I’ll be just a few pools away if you need me.”

We round the corner, momentarily hidden from Vark and Steagor, and Owen presses a quick kiss to my lips. “Will I see you tonight?”

“Of course.” I peer up at him, confused. “At Ozork’s party?”

“No, I mean later.” Owen straightens just in time and glances back to where my friends are still trailing us.

Heat rushes into my cheeks, but I nod, squeezing his arm. “Deal.”

When we arrive at the baths, he bows politely over my hand, his eyes bright, and leaves with Vark and Steagor to find a pool large enough for the three of them. I pick up a bathing sheet and head in the other direction for one of the smaller pools, grinning to myself. I trust my friends enough to know that they might joke and tease but won’t do anything truly unpleasant to Owen—and I know Owen well enough by now to know he won’t let them cross any lines. Maybe I should have warned the two orcs not to mention mates or discuss me, but after a snatch of laughter wafts from their direction, I decide they’ll know to avoid those topics on their own.

I’m just glad they’ve accepted Owen as my mate without so much as a blink. In the old kingdom, I might have been ridiculed for who I matched up with—humans were seen as weak compared to our warrior race. I never thought my mate would be a soldier, yet he’s exactly right for me.

When I’m done with washing, I wrap the bathing sheet around me and make my way through the mist, following the sounds of the men’s voices. Their pool materializes in front of me, and I notice Owen, who is relaxing at the edge, his long hair wet, his expression serene.

“Everything all right here?” I tuck the sheet more securely around my chest.

Vark peers up at me, then slaps a hand dramatically over his remaining eye. “Gods, Mara, you’re showing your ankles.”

He’s referring to the fact that I’m taking great care not to show an inch more of my skin than absolutely necessary, not because I’m embarrassed by my nakedness but because it’s them . Steagor and Vark are closer to cousins or older brothers to me, and strutting around naked around them would be too strange.

Steagor rumbles out a laugh. “Oh, come on, would you want your Hazel to show up naked in front of me and the captain?”

Vark growls, then bites back the sound and shakes his head, contrite. “I suppose you’re right. I’m sorry for teasing you, Mara.”

Owen lifts his head and blinks at me. His gaze moves from my feet up my body to where my breasts strain against the bathing sheet. His eyelids lower a little, and I squirm in place, fighting both shyness and arousal at the same time.

“Did we look this smitten?” Steagor muses, glancing from Owen to me and back.

Vark picks up a bar of soap and tosses it at him. “Aye, you’re still exactly like that whenever Poppy’s close.”

I glower at them both, worried they might say too much. “You lot should get out, too. It’s almost time for dinner.”

Owen groans, then scrubs his face with his hands. “I want to remain in here forever, honestly. But I promised Ozork I’d escort Lady Willow to the king’s chambers. I’ll see you later?”

I can’t help but grin at him. He’s asking about the dinner, true, but also about the meeting we’d arranged for afterward. “Aye.”

Then I scamper away before the temptation to stay and watch Owen get out of the pool gets the best of me. In my room, I put on one of my nicest gowns, a deep crimson one that complements my skin and cinches my waist in just the right spot. I braid my hair and coil it up in a crown, securing it in place with golden hairpins, then exchange the plain gold hoops in my ears with prettier earrings, ones I asked Torren to make for me. They’re fashioned in the shape of holly leaves, complete with tiny rubies for the berries, and they’re perfect for tonight’s celebration.

I leave off any perfume because I want Owen to scent me —there’s nothing that compares to the scent of a true mate, and tonight, when I explain everything to him, he might want to get an extra whiff to confirm it.

My excitement grows as I leave my room and hurry down the corridors to the great hall, just to check in with Earna. She’s busy seasoning the fennel salad that will be served alongside the boar roast and the potatoes, and she waves me on, calling out that everything is going according to plan.

I swoop in anyway and press her in a quick hug. “Thank you, Earna. For taking such good care of us.”

Her already flushed cheeks turn a darker shade of green. “My pleasure, dearie. I made some of those nut paste pastries for dessert.”

“Ooh!” I grasp her hand and squeeze her fingers. “The ones you made for the secret cake tin a couple of weeks ago?”

She grins. “Aye, the very same. Now run along, or you’ll be late!”

I arrive at Gorvor’s chambers to find the door thrown wide, the party already beginning. Steagor and Poppy are there, sitting on a padded bench at the side of the room. Steagor is wrapped around her, and she’s resting against him, the picture of perfect calm. Vark has brought Hazel, and I hug them both, glad they’ve come to support Ozork.

The orc we’re celebrating today arrives not long after, smelling strongly of his mate. I raise an eyebrow at him, and he shrugs, clearly unrepentant. He moves toward Gorvor to speak quietly with him, then stands at the entrance to the room, waiting for his lady to show up.

When she does, it’s on Owen’s arm, and he hands her over to Ozork with a polite bow. Then he makes his way directly to me, his grin wide. “I don’t think she suspects anything. I didn’t even let on I knew about the dinner, so it should be a surprise for her.”

He keeps his voice pitched low, not that Willow is paying any attention to him. She’s talking quietly to Ozork, whose craggy face is glowing with joy. At the sight of them, happy tears sting my eyes. Ozork waited for so long to find his mate, and now it seems he’s figured out a way to build a life for both of them.

“You look beautiful tonight,” Owen murmurs.

I glance up at him, heat rising in my cheeks. “Thank you.”

“You’re always beautiful.” Owen closes his eyes for a moment and draws in a deep inhale. “But this dress is very pretty, that’s what I meant to say.”

I tug lightly on the sleeve of his jacket. “You’re not looking too shabby either, Captain.”

He’s put on his high-collared jacket with the three golden pips and combed back his hair into a neat bun at the back of his head. My fingers itch from wanting to undo the tie from his hair and dig my fingers through it, especially now that I know how smooth and silky it is.

“You’re staring, my lady.”

I glance up with a gasp, caught in the moment. His words are deep, and tension builds between us.

“I might decide I don’t care for the king’s dinner after all,” he continues, his voice barely audible above the murmur of the conversations around us. “I want to take you away from here to somewhere we can be alone.”

“I can’t,” I groan. “I want to, but this is important. We need to wait.”

He puts his hand on the small of my back. “Oh, I know. I only wanted to tell you how I feel.”

I bite my lip, then mirror his gesture, only I don’t leave my palm on his back but slide it a little lower.

Owen jerks in place, his cheeks flushing pink, and a muscle ticks in his jaw. “You are a menace,” he growls. “I will remember this, don’t think I won’t.”

A shiver goes through me at his promise. “I will hold you to that.”

Before he can retaliate with more inappropriate touching, the door swings open again and Earna enters, followed by a train of younger orcs all carrying platters and pots of food. They set them on the tables, and Earna explains all the dishes to us, from boar roast and honey-glazed grouse to rosemary-scented potatoes, fennel-and-carrot salad, and of course, her delicious nut paste pastries.

When she bows and leaves, we all approach our seats at the table—but couples sit wherever they want, disregarding the seating plan completely. I stare at Orsha and her mate, who took the seats intended for Owen and me, and wonder if I should ask them to get up again. Then I catch Owen’s gaze from the other side of the table. He gives me a rueful smile and sits in the chair next to Willow, so I have no choice but to take the last remaining place close to Gorvor.

It’s a lovely meal, with delicious food and good conversation. I try not to stare too much at Owen, simply because I remember his wicked promise every time I do, and I don’t want my cousin getting wind of the fact that I’d much rather be in bed with Owen than at this dinner party. More and more, I feel like I’m only going through the motions, eating and laughing and listening to everyone’s stories, when all I want to do is finally talk to Owen and make things right.

Soon .

Every time our gazes meet, I try to tell him without words that I’m barely holding back from getting up, running to his side, and crawling into his lap, onlookers be damned. But he’s sitting next to Willow, who is still his superior, and he’d no doubt be embarrassed by such a display of emotion.

So I wait and cheer inwardly when the main portion of the meal is consumed and cleared away. I jump up and bring the pastries to the table in a simple attempt to speed things along to a point where we’ll be able to sneak away and leave everyone to celebrate without us.

Finally, Gorvor stands and lifts a hand, and the guests fall silent one by one, turning toward him.

“I have an announcement to make,” he begins. “A very good friend came to ask me a favor. He’s never once asked for anything, though he’s been at my side all these years, the most loyal companion an orc could wish for.”

I glance at Ozork. He’s staring down, his lips twisting wryly. Willow reaches for his hand, looking at him, her eyes bright. It’s clear she loves him already, and I’m so glad he’s found her.

“I invited you here tonight,” my cousin continues, “to celebrate a very special occasion and witness a small ceremony.”

Willow jerks in her seat, her eyes going round. I hide a smile at her reaction. What does she think will happen?

Gorvor steps away from his table, puts on his iron crown, and picks up some papers from his desk. I worked there this morning, but now, the setting seems much more official, what with the golden seal and his solemn expression.

“Ozork, son of Bram, will you come closer?”

Ozork stands and approaches the king. They clasp hands, then Gorvor releases him and asks him to kneel.

“I haven’t done this since before we left the old kingdom,” my cousin murmurs to Dawn. Then he faces Ozork again and says, “With this, I name you Lord Ozork, Duke of the Black Bear Clan.” He offers Ozork his hand and pulls him to his feet. “You’ve always been part of my court, friend, and giving you your due makes me very happy.”

As they lean over the papers to sign the deed and add the king’s seal, I glance at Owen, who’s grinning at me. He’s leaning back, his posture relaxed, but he tracks my every gesture with a focused, heated gaze. Willow, sitting next to him, seems too stunned for words, and she tugs Ozork closer to her, speaking quietly. I knew she’d appreciate his gesture. She is radiant, smiling at her mate, then accepting his gentle kiss.

The others move in to congratulate Ozork, and I wrap him in a hug, too, patting his back.

“I’m so happy for you,” I whisper. “She is lovely.”

“Aye, that she is. Your captain seems like a good man, too.” He pulls back and regards me seriously. “Don’t be afraid to ask for what you want, Mara.”

With that bit of wisdom, he releases me and turns to Vark and Hazel, who are next in line. I step to the side, needing to process what he just told me.

Am I afraid to ask for what I want?

Possibly. I’ve wanted to be useful and self-sufficient ever since I learned what happens to orcs who lose themselves like my mother did. I never wanted anyone to have as much power over me as my father had had over her, and with that in mind, I’d closed myself off and pushed away my fated mate, who still doesn’t know what exactly he means to me.

As if summoned by my thoughts, Owen appears by my side. He touches my elbow lightly and taps his boot lightly against mine. “Hello.”

His voice has a shiver of pleasure dancing up my spine.

“Hello,” I whisper. “Did you enjoy the ceremony?”

He leans in so his lips brush the sensitive tip of my ear. “I did. I’m glad I could be a part of the preparation.”

I step closer to him, just an inch or two. It wouldn’t seem like much to anyone watching us, but my hip touches his, my skirt brushing his pants.

“Mara…” He leans against me, and his warmth seeps into me. “You should be more careful, sweetheart. I’m two touches away from hauling you over my shoulder and right out this door.”

I gasp, imagining it. Then everyone would know. For once, the thought doesn’t fill me with dread but anticipation, so I hide my hand behind my skirt and nudge him in the thigh. “One.”

His gaze turns molten, and he opens his mouth to speak, but Gorvor calls for our attention once more.

“Ozork and Willow have requested that I marry them,” he booms, a big grin splitting his face. “Please, join me in celebrating with the happy couple.”

Moments after his announcement, a heated argument explodes between Steagor and Vark. I squint at them, surprised, then realize they’re fighting about which one of them will be Ozork’s witness, so I step away from them to nudge Orsha. Ozork’s sister takes one look at them, gives me a curt nod, and pulls them apart, saying it will be her and no one else standing at Ozork’s side, since she’s the undisputed champion of the fighting ring and the groom’s sister.

After the two males quiet down, she sends me a quick smile and a wink.

Willow turns to Owen, looking up at him. Before she can even utter her question, he nods.

“It would be my honor,” he rasps, grinning.

I pluck several small branches of holly from the centerpieces on the tables and tie them together with a piece of string Dawn supplies, making a little bouquet for Willow, who accepts it gratefully, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

As Gorvor leads the couple through a rather improvised wedding ceremony, I can’t keep my gaze off Owen. He stands so proud beside Willow, his chin raised, his eyes bright. When the time comes for the groom to kiss his bride, I can’t hold back the tears, both because I love this for Ozork and Willow and because I can now imagine myself in a similar position. I have no idea if Owen will want to get married like humans do, all I know is I wouldn’t be opposed to it. Orcs don’t often put up a big ceremony since a mating bond is stronger even than marriage vows, but if Owen wants this, I will make it happen for us.

Then the toasts begin, each one louder than the last as the guests drink more and more mead. I take tiny sips only—I’ll need a clear head for the talk that Owen and I are about to have—and I see him switching out his mead for apple cider when no one is watching. It warms me from the inside that he’s thinking of me, too, and when he meets my gaze over the rim of his goblet, I grin at him, feeling so light I could float away on a breeze.

Orsha disappears for long minutes and returns with her brother’s fiddle, and Ozork obliges the guests’ request to play a quick dancing tune. Vark grabs Hazel by the waist and swings her in a circle, and Gorvor joins in with his queen.

When Owen appears by my side, though, I grasp his hand and lead him toward the door. “Come, no one will miss us now.”

He follows me quickly out the door, casting a glance over his shoulder. “You’re certain? I thought you might like to dance first.”

I bite my lip, tempted despite my plan. “Another time. First, I want…”

Owen tugs me to a stop and kisses me, right there in the corridor, where anyone might walk by. It’s a deep, carnal kiss that shows me he needs me just as much as I need him, and I cling to him desperately, returning every lick, every nibble.

But I pull back, panting. “Wait. Owen— ah! —wait.”

He kisses the side of my neck, then hums and lifts his head. “Whose rooms are closer?”

“Mine.” I grab the sleeve of his tunic. “This way.”

I lead him through the corridors, and he keeps his arm around my shoulders, as if he doesn’t want to relinquish even that simple contact. My core heats, my heartbeat coming faster, and every touch, every whisper of his breath serves to wind my need tighter.

“Here.”

I take the last corner and stop in front of my door. My hands are shaking, so I fumble with the keys—mostly because Owen wraps himself around me from behind and kisses my shoulder, drawing down the neckline of my gown.

“Gods, you’re not helping!” I try to fit the key in the lock and fail, then try again. “Owen!”

He chuckles and releases me, but he kisses me before the door is even open all the way. We stumble into the empty room, and I shove the door shut behind us, plunging us into darkness.

“Ow!” Owen jerks beside me, then curses under his breath.

I snort with laughter. “Are you all right?”

“I can’t see in the dark,” he grumbles. “Do you have a lantern?”

“Aye, give me a moment.”

I let go of his jacket with a sigh and walk deeper into the room, avoiding my desk and chair. I find the lantern on a shelf, the flint beside it, and quickly spark a flame that casts a yellow glow.

Owen squints at me from the other side of my living space. “You’re suddenly so far away.”

“I’m sorry.” I walk back to him and press my palms to his broad chest. “Did you hurt yourself?”

He shakes his head. “Only my toe suffered, nothing more.”

I stare up at him, wishing we could simply go on with what we started. His kisses turn my head every time, and I want to continue where we left off yesterday.

But I’ve put this off long enough.

I release him and walk to my bed, where I sit and pat the spot next to me. “Come on. I need to tell you something.”

Owen grimaces, then follows my instructions. “You don’t know how difficult a decision this is for me. I want nothing more than to kiss you and see how we can be together.”

“I have a good idea.” I lean in and kiss his cheek. “We can still do that after.”

I hope. Because he might decide that he doesn’t want what I have to offer after all.

Owen takes my hand and holds it between his. “What is it that you want to talk about?”

I chew on the inside of my cheek, wondering where to begin. Then I take a deep breath and start at the beginning.

“You’re my mate.”