33. Kaila

After eating, Brunnen took me to the large building where many young orc males stayed. Beds were set up inside in a row on one side, with wooden containers for personal possessions at the foot of each.

“You’re sure you’ll be happy here?” I asked him, though I didn’t have any other place to offer. I wasn’t even sure where I was going to sleep tonight.

My heart hurt. I missed Turren already. But what could I say to him? He spoke of his difficulty finding words and now it was me who couldn’t figure out what words to use to fix this.

“I love it here already,” my brother said.

An orc male entered and passed us, smacking Brunnen on the back on the way by.

“We’re all going to play gromgret if you’re interested,” he said.

“This is my friend, Nuark,” Brunnen said. “Nuark? This is my sister, Kaila.”

“The new mate of our caedos,” Nuark said reverently. “Welcome.” His face darkened as he hurried through the room, stooping down in front of a trunk.

“I’ve never played gromgret,” Brunnen told me. “I’m not even sure what it is, but . . .”

He was excited to have a new friend.

“Go join him.” I didn’t want to hold him back. “We can go to the aerie another time.”

He gazed longingly in Nuark’s direction. “You’re sure? Back in the village, well, I didn’t have a lot of friends. They all had each other, and they didn’t bother with me.”

My heart hurt that I hadn’t made an effort to match him with friends. But I was busy working and trying to survive. It never occurred to me. “Go.” I nudged his side. “I’m going to look for Turren.”

I couldn’t stand this. We needed to talk it out; find a way back to each other.

“That’s good.” Brunnen scratched the back of his neck. “He loves you. I bet he’s sorry he upset you.”

He was. I knew this. And I was going to tell him. But I looked everywhere for him and couldn’t find him. When I asked someone, they said they thought they’d seen him heading out on his vox to fly over the valley. Someone had seen a herd of boolongs and if it was true, Turren was going to put together a hunting party.

Because I really did want to talk with him, I went to our home—and I was going to call it that at all times. This was a bump in our relationship, but I was sure we’d get over it and be stronger on the other side.

Inside, I found an elderly orc female sitting in a chair, humming. Sianna lay on a tiny bed nearby, sound asleep with her fingers stuffed into her mouth.

“Welcome, I’m Urlain,” she said. “And you’re Kaila, our caedos’s new mate.” She rose. “I assume you’ve come here to be with your daughter.”

The child was sleeping deeply, releasing soft sighs. I crept forward and stood over her, watching her. “She looks peaceful.”

“She’s a good orcling. Such a tragedy that her parents died.”

“Yes. Turren told me they were killed while traveling.”

“Only their precious orcling survived. A hunter heard her crying and investigated. I’m afraid they weren’t able to recover her parents’ bodies. Such a sorrowful time for their clan and ours.”

“Their clan?”

“Yes, the clan Turren grew up in. The one he left when he was fifteen. He came here and became ours.” Her probing gaze met mine. “We love him.”

“I do too.” That would never go away. “When did her parents die?”

Urlain’s head tilted. “Turren didn’t tell you?”

Not these small details, plus the big one lying on the fur-covered bed. “We didn’t talk much about it.”

“It was only four months ago.”

“Not long. I’m terribly sorry.”

“The fates can be cruel sometimes.” She sighed and started toward the front of the building.

I turned, watching her. “Where are you going?”

“I have many things that require my time. If you’d like, I’ll come sit with Sianna tomorrow to free you for other tasks. I adore her, and I’m always happy to play with her.”

With that, she left.

I dropped into the chair and watched the tiny child sleep. She didn’t look any older than my brother when our parents died. My heart was wrenched back to that time, to the endless pain I’d felt about their loss. To my dismay when I realized that, as my brother’s only surviving relative, I would be responsible for raising him. No one suggested that a twelve-year-old still needed raising herself. I was old enough to work and women didn’t need an education, they said. I could handle it all.

Now I would raise another child, and for some reason, it felt different this time. Perhaps because I was older. Or my heart already couldn’t resist this perfect little being.

When she stirred, I picked her up and held her.

She continued to doze, and her sleepy sighs made my heart crack wide open.

I smiled and kissed the top of her head.