24. Turren
Istood inside the woods. How long would I remain here?
I sat. It would be a while before I got hungry. Before I needed to lay down somewhere and sleep.
Tiny flowers grew in profusion by my feet, pink things that looked so delicate that one stomp would crush them. I squatted and ran my fingertips across them, finding their stems sturdier than they looked. When I lifted my hand away, they sprung back up, looking as good as they had before I touched them.
They reminded me of Kaila. She was tiny and her skin was delicate and soft. She looked as if she could break easily yet she hadn’t. At a young age, she’d stepped in and raised her little brother. She’d shown him love, and she’d given him everything he needed.
She was so much stronger than she knew. I should’ve told her that.
Now I’d never tell her anything.
I should turn away. My clan needed me. The new life I’d built with them was waiting.
I’d been gone too long already. They knew I’d hoped to find a mate during the hunt, and if I did, I’d bring her to them. Now I had a mate, but I’d return to my people without her.
My stupid pendant blazed. Would it ever give up? I wasn’t sure I could, but I had to. I could remain here, waiting to court Kaila if she appeared on the wall or even go inside and walk through the village, but that was foolish. She’d made her choice, and it wasn’t me.
A sound echoed from the fortress, but I didn’t look up. I kept stroking the flowers, watching them flutter from my touch but spring back once more.
When a shadow fell over me, I still didn’t look up. I assumed it was Mavileen, here to invite me to visit the village again. She’d welcomed me when I came with the others, and there was a place by her fire for me whenever I had need.
But entering the fortress meant seeing Kaila once more. I wanted that so much, but I knew that watching her begin a new life that didn’t include me would kill me. When I left, I’d be nothing more than a shell with no Turren left inside. Everything I was would remain with her while I struggled to walk away.
“I was wondering,” someone croaked.
I looked up and fell to my knees when I found Kaila standing there. Looking around her, I didn’t see Brunnen, but right now, I didn’t care. He must be inside the fortress.
Kaila was here.
“What are you wondering?” I asked.
She stroked her fingertips down my face. “The village offers stability.”
“It does.” I rose to my feet, looking down at her. She was so pretty, so delicate. Much too pretty or delicate for a scarred orc like me. I hadn’t even told her the worst—or the best. I hadn’t dared. Still didn’t.
“The new village offers a certain future. They’re offering me a home to live in, a job.”
“That’s wonderful,” I rasped.
“It’s wrapped up like someone has presented it to me as a gift with a big bow on top.”
“It’s what you need.”
She frowned.
“I’m glad for you,” I added. What else did she want me to say? Those words tasted bitter on my tongue, but all I’d ever want was for her to feel safe and happy.
“There’s one big thing missing, though, and I thought you could help.”
“What do you need? I’ll give it to you. Anything.”
“You. There’s no Turren in the village.”
Could I give up my life in the desert and mountains, of being the caedos of my people? It was so much more than that, though. That secret . . .
I would do this; find a way if she asked, but nothing would hold value if she wasn’t standing beside me.
“I could . . . live in the village.” Mavileen would accept me there. “I’m strong. I work hard. And I’d do anything they asked of me.”
I’d sacrifice everything that made me Turren as long as I could be with Kaila.
“See, there’s one problem with that.”
Why wasn’t her frown going away? I’d just offered to live in the village, to make sure she had the stability and certainty that only a life behind fortress walls could offer.
“What’s the problem?” I asked.
“The forest surrounds the village.”
“Like the village you left.” I didn’t understand, but I was trying. Because her wants and needs were all that mattered.
“There’s no vast sky above. The sun doesn’t cut across that sky in the morning in pinks, golds, and orange. It doesn’t paint the air. And in the evening, when the sun’s setting, I won’t see the reds and oranges so vivid my heart will want to soar up and grab onto those beams.”
She was repeating the words I’d told her when I described the desert, but I still didn’t know what she meant. What she needed.
“Tell me,” I growled, though I wasn’t mad. My heart was smacking against my ribs, telling me to let it out so it could surround Kaila and hold her close.
“I want to see the sand shifting, forming new peaks and being smoothed by the wind. I want to see the mountains, feel the snow on my face. I need to feel alive in a way I never have before.”
“I’d give that to you if I could.”
She held her hand toward me. “I don’t want you to live in the village.”
“I see.” But I didn’t. I couldn’t see past the woods around us, the fortress walls, the tall grass that overwhelmed this part of the world.
“I want to live in the vast open spaces, to travel from an oasis to the vox nesting grounds. I want to stand by your side while you help your people. I want to lay my head next to yours at night and love you.”
“Mate,” I croaked, unable to believe what I was hearing but so overjoyed I couldn’t think. All I could do was feel.
Her tentative smile rose, and she nodded. “Mate.”
I brushed her hand aside but held out my arms.
And she leaped into them.