Chapter 4

Chapter

Four

I wake early after a terrible night’s sleep. I tossed and turned, racked with guilt over leaving Owen so abruptly and tormented by the knowledge that he was somewhere in the Hill, in the guest quarters not far from my suite of rooms. If I ventured out into the hallway, I could be at his door in no time, and I could?—

I stop my thoughts before they can devolve into a hopeless fantasy. It would be counterproductive and completely useless—and I hate being useless. It’s an unpleasant reminder of a time in my life when I didn’t know what my role in the clan would be, and I don’t want to return to a state of such utter hopelessness.

Pushing away my covers, I roll out of bed despite the headache pounding in my temples. The cold water I splash on my face in my bathroom refreshes me, though I doubt I’ll look my best today. Raking a comb through my hair helps calm me a little, and I coil a tight bun at the nape of my neck, a severe style that might just save me from unraveling.

Then I pick one of my most demure dresses, a high-necked, deep blue gown that covers me from neck to toe. The captain saw me in a dressing gown last night, so I need to correct his impression of me—I am not some unkempt wretch but the steward of this Hill, and I shall present myself as such.

Thus armed, I grab my work satchel and my set of keys to the larders and decide to spend the morning there, rechecking our stores for the winter. It’s late in the season for a trading trip south, but if we’re low on meat or other supplies that could be gathered from the forest at this time of year, I might convince Gorvor to send out one last hunting party before all the mountain passes are closed and the snow grows too deep for even our best hunters to brave.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I find the great hall nearly empty at this early hour. Only families with small children and the guards who’ve just finished their night shift sit at the long wooden tables, and they’re all too tired to attempt conversation with me. The children run around the tables, already bouncing with energy while their parents stare blearily after them. Carrow is nowhere to be seen either, and it’s Earna who passes me a large jug of piping-hot tea to carry to my table and brings out apples, freshly baked, still-warm bread, and blueberry preserves.

I’m finishing up my breakfast—having chased it with three cups of strong tea instead of my usual two—when Ozork appears at one of the entrances to the great hall. Hidden behind his bulky frame is Willow, and they’re talking quietly, their heads bent toward each other.

I freeze with my cup mid-air, not wanting to intrude on their intimate moment.

Has he told her yet what she is to him? That she’s the one person he cannot live without? The only chance for his happiness and ever having a family?

Then I see his determined expression and the intense focus he has when looking at her. And I note the slightly shell-shocked, though pleased expression in Willow’s wide eyes—and I know he has .

Of course he has. Ozork has wanted a mate for years—decades, even. And he’s not going to let her go now that he has found her. He’s brave, unlike me, and doesn’t seem to care that she’s going to leave come spring.

He might even follow her to the human lands and live with her there if she asks it of him.

He could very well leave—and never come back.

Just another person on the long list of those I’ve loved and lost.

I duck my head, not wanting to attract their attention. There’s no use thinking like that. Perhaps, by some miracle, Willow will decide to stay? So many humans have, Dawn and Poppy and Hazel, Ivy and Violet. They’ve found their happiness here, with us—but not one of them had such ties in the human world as Willow has.

Or Owen.

That’s who I’m really thinking of, it’s no use lying to myself. He’s a soldier with a duty to serve his country, and losing that would be…

I couldn’t ask it of him, that much I know. Just as I couldn’t leave here, even if he offered to take me with him.

Quietly, so as not to alert anyone to my presence, I pick up my cup and plate and carry them to the kitchen so the orcs on duty won’t have to clean up after me. Then I slip from the great hall through a small corridor, one leading away from the guest quarters, so there’s less of a chance I’ll run into Owen.

I spend the morning in the cellars, between casks of ale, bushels of firm, red apples, stacks of pumpkins, and sacks of grain. There are racks of bottled mead, wheels of aged cheese on the shelves, salted fish in barrels, and cured sausages hanging from the rafters. Our cold rooms are filled with slabs of beautiful meat resting on ice, ready to be thawed and cooked. It’s all there, enough food to last us through the winter and more. Hunters will still go out every day to supplement our diet with snow hares and partridges, as well as the occasional deer, but even if the weather worsened to the point where it could be dangerous for them to venture out, we still wouldn’t starve.

There’s no reason for me to be down here. Jasmine and I have been through our larders already, and we noted all the items on the shelves, counting and sorting until we were certain that nothing was amiss. We prepared a thorough report and presented it to our king, who praised our readiness and gave me a relieved grin when I mentioned that we were heading toward a peaceful, abundant winter season.

I know exactly why I’m hiding in the cellars. If I go upstairs and join the rest of the clan, I’ll either run into Owen or one of my friends. Seeing Owen would push me farther on the path of ruin because I won’t be able to resist his pull, and my friends would ask uncomfortable questions I have no wish to answer.

By now, everyone must know that the king has received a visit from the Duke of Ultrup’s ambassador. Orcs may be a warrior race, but we’re also nosy, and news spreads fast in the Hill. There’s no hiding the human soldiers who stand out wherever they go. And as soon as they see the captain and me together, they’ll realize that I’ve met my mate. No one will understand why I’m not throwing myself at him, allowing him to court me—or simply dragging him into my room and spending the next few weeks making passionate love to the one person I’ve been waiting for my entire life.

Aye, there’s no better place for me than this cellar right now.

That’s where Jasmine finds me, sitting on an upturned apple crate, reading a book I’d brought with me for this exact purpose. Well, I didn’t know I’d end up here—I’d imagined myself ensconced in a nice nook in the library, perhaps, or my own rooms, but people know I spend my time there, so they’d find me easily with their prying questions and curious eyes.

“Mara?” Jasmine stops in front of me, hands on her hips, her pretty face illuminated by the flickering light of my lantern. “What on earth are you doing here?”

I lift my book in explanation. “It’s a riveting story. I must have lost track of time.”

She squints at the cover. “ The Ordinary Travels of Markos the Third ? Isn’t this the book Violet wanted to chuck into the fire because it was so awfully boring?”

Damn, so it was. I haven’t really been reading, I suppose, more staring at the page. I brought this book from the library because Marut had shoved it onto my pile of books to save it from Violet’s wrath, and haven’t had time to read much at all. I did try to follow the story today, but the author—Markos the Third—had a horrible tendency to describe every minute detail of his attire and the food he consumed on his journey, so I haven’t gotten very far.

“I-I think the author is misunderstood.” I lift my chin in defiance, hoping Jasmine won’t challenge my claim. “Did you need me?”

She crouches in front of me, her pretty face upturned. “Not really. But there’s been…commotion in the Hill, and you’re always the one who knows what’s going on, and I didn’t want to bother Morg or Torren in the forge today. They were already late for work as it is.”

She flushes at this, and I can imagine quite clearly why her two handsome mates were preoccupied this morning.

“Anyway,” she continues, “I searched for you in all the usual places, then got worried when I couldn’t find you anywhere. And here you are.”

“Here I am,” I murmur. I knew someone would be searching for me. It’s just my luck that Jasmine isn’t one to give up. “What kind of commotion did you see?”

“Well, nothing has happened yet,” she muses. “But there’s tension in the clan. It’s the soldiers who arrived with the duke’s ambassador.”

At this, I straighten, the book forgotten by my side. “Are they causing trouble?”

“No, nothing like that,” she says quickly. “You know King Gorvor wouldn’t stand for it. But the ambassador went to meet the king today with Ozork and a captain of her guard while the rest of the men huddled in the great hall, and it all seemed… Ah, maybe I’m just imagining things, but they seemed tense .”

I stand, dusting off the skirt of my dress. “I would be, too, if I was a human in an orc palace.”The words slip off my tongue, and I freeze, staring down at Jasmine. “I-I didn’t think…”

She straightens, a small smile curling her lips. “That’s exactly why I came to see you. When I first arrived, I did feel awkward and strange, being one of the very few humans around here. But Ritta and Sarrai were so kind to me, as were you. I just thought—what if we did something to make them feel more comfortable here? I know some of the orcs have wanted to at least have a sniff at the visitors. You know, to see if any of them are their mates. But they’re worried the soldiers might be too wary of orcs to allow it.”

Gods, I’ve been selfish. The meeting with Owen has shaken me up so badly, I forgot about my duty to my clan and failed at the most basic rules of hospitality.

“Of course.” I give Jasmine a quick hug to show her I’m not upset by her arrival. “You’re right, and I should have done something already. Come, let’s walk and figure it out.”

We find the group of a dozen or so soldiers huddled at one of the long tables in the great hall, playing cards and snacking on the remains of a breakfast spread. We’d recruited some help along the way, a pair of warriors in training, Darrin and Lorm, to escort the humans around the Hill. I let Jasmine do the talking, assuming they’ll be more comfortable with her, and I’m right—the men stare at her, transfixed, until she mentions that some of my kin might try to get a whiff of them in the corridors.

At that, one of the soldiers sneers in disgust. “I don’t want anyone smelling me. That’s barbaric.”

Another soldier, who has been steadily making his way through a pile of buttered scones, slaps him lightly on the chest. “Come off it, Ruben. It’s just the way they meet each other.”

“That’s right,” Jasmine cuts in, her smile more strained than before. “That’s how I met my mates.”

“What?” scoffs Ruben, his expression no less hostile than before. “You mean more than one? How does that work, then?”

“Ruben!” the other man exclaims, half turning in his seat to glare at his companion. “Will you stop?”

Jasmine takes a deep breath, her fair face turning pink. I’ve known her long enough to know that she’ll either explode and start yelling at the rude soldier, or burst into angry tears, which will hurt her even more. Darrin is clenching his fists, too, which is sure to be a problem if any more unpleasantness comes from the human’s mouth.

Stepping up to Jasmine, I give her the smallest nudge with my hand and take over the conversation. “There is very little chance that any of you will be a good match for the orcs of this clan, so you needn’t worry. We only wanted to let you know how things are done here so you’re not surprised by our customs.” I motion at the two young warriors beside me. “We’ve agreed that Darrin and Lorm will escort you around the Hill so you can familiarize yourselves with its layout, and then they’ll take you to the baths so you can all refresh yourselves.”

The soldier who had been eating so heartily stops and sniffs himself, then grimaces. “That’s a fine idea, my lady. We could all use a wash.”

“I don’t think—” Ruben starts again, his nose upturned.

But one of the other soldiers talks over him. “You should see the place, it’s amazing. They have as much hot water as you can wish for, and it’s all underground.”

He must be one of the soldiers who’d accompanied Willow last night, and I sigh with relief as the other men readily agree to go with our soldiers if it means getting to soak in a hot pool. After days on the road, freezing in terrible weather, I would be begging for it, too. They stand, chattering loudly, and drag their rude companion along despite his protests. The hungry one snags another scone before leaving, and then they’re gone, the silence after their departure ringing in my ears.

“That went…as well as could be expected.” Jasmine turns to me, arms crossed over her chest. “I wanted to kick the rude one in the balls. Thank you for stopping me.”

I grin at her viciousness. “I think some of your mates’ combativeness is rubbing off on you.”

Morg and Torren had gotten into a fight the night they met Jasmine, both of them convinced the other was trying to steal his mate.

“Don’t tell them,” she murmurs, though her lips twitch up in the corners. “Morg’s been teaching me to fight, but he says I lack killer instinct. He’d be so smug if he learned I was finally tempted to do violence.”

“For good reason, too.” I stare in the direction the men have gone, something painful squeezing in my stomach. “I’d forgotten that humans have such backward views about relationships like yours.”

Jasmine is quiet for a long moment, so I turn back to her, wondering what it is I said. She’s studying me in that quiet way of hers, as if she’s trying to puzzle me out, looking for deeper meaning in my words.

“Not all of them are like that,” she says finally. “I know that—that we’ve often painted the human men as wholly bad, the others and I. But they’re not all awful.”

I frown at her. “Your groom left you at the altar. Surely?—”

She flicks her hand up, stopping me. “Yes, but he never loved me—he was in love with someone else. He might have told me about his sweetheart a bit earlier, so I didn’t get hurt, but in the end, he did the right thing. If I was in his woman’s shoes, I would be very happy he chose me.” She lowers her voice and asks, “Have you smelled any of them yet?”

My heart stutters at her question. It hadn’t even occurred to me to sniff these other men, not when their captain has already claimed my inner peace. But Jasmine doesn’t know that—Owen visited the Hill before she ever arrived here, and clearly, she hasn’t heard any gossip about my embarrassing first encounter.

“I-I have,” I tell her. “None of them are a match.”

It’s not a lie. I stood close enough to the group of men that there’s no way I could have missed it if one of their scents was as significant for me as Owen’s was. And yet, I feel guilty for omitting the full truth. Jasmine would be so happy for me, I know it. She came to the Hill with the express purpose of finding a husband, and she never once thought of leaving her mates after she met them. But telling her about Owen would mean I’m acknowledging it—acknowledging him .

And I’m not ready for that yet.

So I force a smile and ask Jasmine to make sure the human soldiers will have something to do in the afternoon, a tour of our training rings, perhaps, or some live music in the evening.

The best thing to do would be to speak with their captain and cooperate with him to provide work and entertainment while they’re guests at the Hill. Willow won’t need a full guard trailing her everywhere, which I’m certain the king will make clear to them at their meeting.

But that would mean talking to him.

I turn back to ask Jasmine if she could also meet with the captain, but she’s already marching away, no doubt to get on with the task that’s been set to her. Her diligence and willingness to help have been key to her earning not just my trust but the king’s as well, but right now, I wish she wasn’t as effective.

I’ll have to find the captain and speak with him to make sure his soldiers aren’t left idle in the Hill. The truth is, it wouldn’t be right to dump this task on Jasmine. I’m the steward, and that title, important and respected, does come with certain duties—and I would never shirk those. I especially don’t trust the rude one, Ruben, or anyone who would follow his example. There is no space for bigotry here, and if he continues with his unpleasantness, he’ll soon learn that orcs won’t stand for it.

Still fuming from the strange encounter with the soldiers, I set out toward the king’s chambers, turning the corners of the corridors without thinking, the path so familiar I follow it with ease. Willow and Ozork might have concluded their meeting with Gorvor in the time I was hiding in the cellars, but they might still be close by—and they’ll likely know where Owen has gone.

If not, I could delay my search for him for a day, perhaps, give myself a little more time to think of?—

“ Oof! ”

I slam into someone coming from the other side of the corridor, right around a bend. Strong hands reach for my arms, and he—for it is most definitely a man—steadies me easily. I suck in a surprised inhale and recognize him before I even lift my gaze to his face.

Captain Owen Hawke stares down at me, his blue eyes wide in surprise. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

I should step away, shake off his grip and stand on my own two feet, but I simply cannot make myself move. Instead, I gawk at him like a simpleton, my senses overwhelmed, my thoughts absent as if my head has been filled with wool.

“My lady?” he prompts me at last. “Mara? Did I hurt you?”

“N-no,” I stammer. “I’m fine. You smell nice.”

The moment the words leave my mouth, I realize what I said. I close my eyes in embarrassment, hoping a hole would open up in the hallway and swallow me up. But when I glance at Owen again, he’s still there, still holding me—only now he’s flushed and smiling at me in a slightly incredulous, happy way.

“I’m so sorry.” I take a step back, which I should have done sooner, given how his presence is impacting me. “Can you—can you please forget I said that?”

He shakes his head as if dismayed. “Alas, a compliment like that will stay forever burned in my mind.”

He’s teasing me, the beast, so I scrunch up my nose at him. “That’s not very kind of you, poking fun of my embarrassment.”

“No, but perhaps I can even the playing field.” He gives me a small bow, keeping his gaze on me. “You smell nice, too, Mara.”

Heat rushes into my cheeks, and I suddenly don’t know what to do. I spent years after my parents’ deaths unmoored, unsure of what my role in life would be, but when I followed my cousin on a dangerous, months-long move across the country to escape our old king and build a new homeland for our people, I found my purpose.

I’ve gotten used to knowing what is expected of me—and being good at those tasks. I haven’t been called useless in more than a decade, and I’d hoped to keep it that way indefinitely.

Now, though, I’m at a loss. The captain has just given me a compliment, yet I don’t know how to respond—is he teasing me or is he serious? Are human senses good enough that they can distinguish our scents in the way we do theirs? Does he know what he’s saying to me?

I stare at him and finally decide that he can’t possibly understand. He must be scenting my honey soap or the herbal oil I’d put in my hair—not the essence of me.

“Thank you,” I force out. “That’s—that’s nice of you to say.”

He cocks his head to the side, considering me. “How is it that you smell like strawberries in the middle of the winter?” Then his eyes go wide, and he jerks back from me. “I didn’t mean to be rude, I just… I like it.”

My breath stalls in my throat. “Strawberries?”

He rubs the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. “Now I’m the one who would ask you to forget I ever said a thing like that.”

But I reach out before I can think better of it and grab his sleeve. “Are you certain it’s strawberries?”

“Quite.” Owen frowns at me, his straight eyebrows knitting together. “Your scent reminds me of summertime. I assumed it’s your soap…”

Whatever he sees in my expression has him clearing his throat, and I realize I’m still clinging on to his arm. I release him abruptly, wondering how to explain my behavior.

If what he says is true—and he doesn’t have a reason to lie, at least not one I can fathom right now—he’s scenting me . In a way that an orc mate would. If this is true, then it’s not just me who’s been affected by this—this thing .

If he’s feeling the same kind of attraction to me as I am to him, why is he holding back?

“Yes,” I say belatedly. “My soap.”

My voice sounds hollow even to my ears, and from how Owen is staring at me, I assume I’m not being very convincing.

I do my best to shake off the thoughts that are crowding in my head, the instinct urging me to step closer to him, to put a hand on his chest and see if he smells even better up close.

“I was searching for you, actually,” I blurt out before he can say anything else.

He perks up at this. “You were?”

“Aye, it’s about your men. They seemed somewhat…bored, so I sent them to the baths with two of our warriors to pass the time. I think it would be good if they could join the clan at various activities, whether it be hunting or training.”The longer I’m speaking, the more composed I am. I can do this—even if being near Owen without touching him is growing difficult. “You could talk to the king about it…”

He gives me a small smile. “I just have. And you’re right, he agreed to let them join in with the guard rotations and the training so they can see how the Hill works. But at least half of them will be leaving for home soon, before the weather turns much worse.”

My heart thuds, pain exploding through my chest. “But you’re—you’re staying?”

I only just found you .

My entire being is screaming at me to tell him something , to make sure he stays right here. I hate that I lived without him for nearly twenty-seven years, happy as anything, and now I can barely breathe for the fear of losing him.

“Yes.” He takes a step toward me, close enough to touch. “I’m staying. Lady Willow needs me here—or we’re both pretending she does.”

I suck in a breath, then another, but they’re all coming in heaving gasps, too loud and violent. It feels as if an invisible hand is holding me by the throat, and I can’t fill my lungs properly.

“Mara?” Owen grips my upper arm and peers into my face. “Are you all right?”

On my next half-inhale, I drag in his scent, and it’s so comforting, some of the tension in my throat eases. I tremble, my chin wobbling—a sure sign I’m about to cry. I want nothing more than to let myself fall forward, into Owen’s embrace. He would close his arms around me and hold me to his chest, and the world would make sense again.

“I’m fine,” I manage. “I’m just—I’m tired. I haven’t slept well.”

It’s the truth, if a partial one. I seem to be doling those out today, first to my friend and now to this man who might have become something so much more, if only the Fates hadn’t put us in such an impossible position.

“Would you like a breath of fresh air?” he asks, his brow still creased in concern. “I saw a signpost for the main gate not far from here, I could take you?—”

“No,” I say quickly—too quickly.

He clears his throat in embarrassment and takes a step back. “Oh. I thought it would help. I’ll just…”

He makes as if to leave me, but I reach out on an impulse, snagging the sleeve of his tunic again. “I’m sorry. It’s a good idea. But I’ll just return to my room. I’m perfectly fine, see?”Now that I’m breathing again, I feel much better. And the last thing I need is to go outside. “I probably need a nap. Make up for my restless sleep.”

Owen’s lips quirk up. “Must have been one of those nights, then. Didn’t sleep much myself.”

I want to ask if he’d been thinking of me, but that would require me to explain myself. I’m torn between wanting to escape his presence and the need to stay by his side. Possibly forever. Which means I’m in grave danger of doing something horrible again, like telling a man I only met last night that he smells nice.

My face feels too warm, my high-necked dress suddenly too constricting. Afraid my throat will close up again, I reach for my collar and undo two buttons, then a third because it feels so good to feel the air on my skin.

Then I look up to find Owen watching me, his gaze riveted on my neck.

Embarrassment hits me again, vicious and hot. He’s human . I remember Willow’s discomfort at undressing herself last night—and of all the other human women who have made their way to the Hill in recent years. When Poppy first arrived, she’d thought that wearing whalebone corsets was the only proper way for a woman to dress, and she’d had to get used to our more relaxed ways.

To Owen, unbuttoning my dress likely means that I’m propositioning him. He might even think I’m too improper for him.

I open my mouth to explain myself, but he reaches forward slowly. He seems as enchanted with me as I am with him—and I couldn’t move away for all the gold in the Hill.

He brushes back a lock of my hair that must have come undone from my bun when I was distressed. His fingers barely skim my skin, but just when I think he’ll move away and let me go, he slips his thumb to my chin and down to the hollow of my neck, which I’d just uncovered.

My entire body lights up, a bonfire of want and need. My mate is touching me, so close I could lean in and kiss him, so handsome, so…

“Fuck.”

Owen drops his hand as if my skin burned him and retreats to the opposite end of the corridor.

He’s breathing hard, his blue eyes wide, his pale skin flushing pink, then draining of color, as if he’s only now realizing what he’s done.

I don’t utter a word. I’m still too caught in the moment, too shocked by his actions. His touch lingers on my skin, the warmth of his fingers imprinted on my memory.

I should have kissed him when I had the chance .

Regret swamps me, and I sway in place, wanting to get closer to Owen, to accept whatever he just offered me because I couldn’t refuse him.

“My lady,” he chokes out, “I didn’t?—”

My heart twists at the honorific he uses. He’s pulling back, and it’s painful to watch how he slowly composes himself. He straightens his shoulders, then runs his fingers through his hair, tugging on it as if he’s thinking of yanking it all out in frustration. Then he blows out a long breath, and his expression shutters.

“This was unforgivable,” he says, his voice hollow. “If you’d like to inform?—”

“No,” I blurt.

He stops, eyebrows raised, and stares at me. “No?”

I don’t even know what I’m refusing, exactly, I just know that whatever he’s suggesting is a bad idea.

So I just shake my head in answer, because risking any more words would be dangerous. Especially because he’s acting as if he did something wrong —which is terrible, because his touch had felt so very right. It was the best touch I’ve ever experienced, even if it lasted mere seconds.

“My lady…” he starts again.

But I hold up a hand to stop him. “Mara. I asked you to call me Mara.”

He drags in a quick inhale. “Mara. I didn’t mean to do that.”

I let out a laugh, though it sounds too bitter and harsh. “No, I didn’t think you did. It’s all right. Orcs touch each other much more frequently than humans.”

Owen frowns now, and I wonder if he’s imagining who else might have touched me this way in the past. Not many have—I’m not a virgin, but orcs always know that any relationship outside a mate bond is only temporary.

But how many women has he touched? I’m not sure I want to think about that either. I know I’ll have a hard time connecting with anyone else after he’s gone, but he might return to the human lands and find himself a pretty human wife and have a whole bunch of pink human children with her, ones who aren’t afraid to venture out in the sun with him.

I resent her fiercely, this imaginary woman who will get to claim this man as her own.

From how Owen is clenching his jaw, I suspect he doesn’t like this line of thinking any more than I do. But with how he reacted to a simple touch, how he pulled away just as I was about to reach out and finally, finally kiss my mate, I’m not feeling too charitable at the moment.

So I lift my chin and don’t tell him that he doesn’t have to worry about other men—or that they’ve already faded from my memory because he has taken up so much space in my head.

“Your men will be waiting,” I say, drawing myself up to my full height. “At the baths, I mean. You’ll need to follow the signposts.”

I indicate the wooden signs at the junction of the hallways. These are a new addition to the Hill, a result of Korr’s mate, Ivy, getting lost over and over in the maze of corridors and passages. Orcs don’t need them, and I certainly wasn’t looking at them when I’d barreled around the corner and slammed into Owen.

He’s staring at me as if he wants to say something, but I’m not ready for another apology or rejection. I give the captain a quick curtsy, then turn on my heels and walk away, forcing myself to keep my gaze straight ahead. If I glanced over my shoulder and found him looking at me, I might have turned back and tried to explain everything.

My sight blurs with tears as I blindly make my way toward my rooms. I’ve had enough of this day, even though it’s not yet dinnertime. I’ll hide in my bed and pretend I’m not there if anyone comes knocking.

I’ll have to avoid my friends for now. Perhaps for months, if Owen will stay here with Willow through the winter. If anyone saw us together, they’d know immediately what was going on. Dawn has hinted as much after the human soldiers’ first visit to the Hill, though I’ve shot down all her attempts to talk to me about it. Ozork knows too much already, but he’s not one for gossip, so I believe my secret is safe with him—even if he wouldn’t understand my reasoning.

But if I told Owen he’s my mate, if I explained to him that he’s my one chance at happiness—and especially the only way I’d ever have children of my own—the knowledge would become a burden. He’s an honorable man, and it would weigh heavily on him to know that I’d be hurting if he ever left me.

I couldn’t live with myself if I tied him to me with a false sense of responsibility instead of true affection. If he remained here because he pitied me, it would crush my soul over time, and we’d come to resent each other.

I would rather set him free and let him live a life outside this Hill than have him slowly rot away in here with me.