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Chapter Thirty-Four

Korik

The reality of truly packing up his entire life was settling on Korik. Unless he just left everything behind, it was going to take longer than he initially thought, much longer; but in his rush of emotions, he also hadn’t considered that they were heading into the worst of winter now, too, so leaving soon would be unwise.

No clans would venture into the mountains until the snows started to melt, and that was probably three months away or more. He berated himself, remembering how he had said aloud to the king and to Varen that he would leave within the next few weeks, as he took stock of his home and belongings. Oddest of all, everything felt far more cramped now than he remembered it; the tight hallways and shelves full of herbs and medicines were claustrophobic after so long out in the open beneath an endless sky, surrounded by nature. He already missed the sun on his skin and the wind in his hair.

K’lir did not like it much, either. For the whole first day they were home, the little kit was constantly following Roz, who would eventually bat him away in annoyance; he would then go meow at Korik until he took the cat outside, at which point Roz would want to go out, too. So Korik would sit in front of his door and watch as the two cats played amongst the flowerbeds. But K’lir was curious about his new surroundings, and Korik often had to chase him up and down the street to make sure he didn’t get into too much trouble.

This meant he was running into orcs who knew him, his neighbors and customers who had known he was gone. Most seemed relieved to see him, and some even asked to schedule appointments with him, which meant he had to explain his intention to leave the city within the next few months. Being confronted with their disappointment was strange; he knew some would only miss having a healer nearby, but several looked genuinely sad when they said that they would be sorry to see him go, and his next-door neighbor even asked him to reconsider.

Guilt made his chest ache to deny them, but when he answered each of them honestly that being out in the wilderness made him miss roaming, each took on a knowing expression and relented. To be an orc meant to yearn for travel, to be consumed with wanderlust, to live in open plains and sleep beneath a blanket of stars. Why else would there be only one orc city, if not for the urge to travel written in their blood? Even the ones who lived here felt it, too, but chose to remain for reasons of their own.

At least it meant that there might be more time to figure out a replacement, or at least sell off his extra stock and pack everything else away without being in a rush. But it also meant more time to dwell and ruminate on things, more time to talk himself out of what was feeling more and more like an impulsive and foolish decision.

But then he thought of Varen, and the possibility of encountering the elf in the city, and it steeled his resolve. Maybe he couldn’t leave just yet, but he would not remain in Drol Kuggradh for long.

Korik had taken to braiding his hair the way Varen had shown him, what felt like a lifetime ago during the storm. It was convenient for keeping his hair out of his eyes when he was bent over his many shelves and cabinets, counting bundles of herbs and organizing containers of tinctures and ointments. It wasn’t as clean as when Varen had done it, but he was getting there. Maybe someday he could braid his hair himself, without wishing he had someone else to do it for him.

It was hard not to think about Varen when he spent his time cataloging and organizing his stock in preparation for the eventual move. It was tedious work, but not especially mentally taxing, so his thoughts often wandered. Too often they drifted back to the topic of the elf, sometimes wishing for what they once might have had, sometimes bubbling with anger and sadness at how things had so abruptly ended.

Roz could sense his feelings and worried over him, but she was kept busy with K’lir while Korik worked, so her concern was limited to curling up with him in the evening. She was actually doing quite well at keeping K’lir out of trouble, and out of Korik’s way as he worked. The kit had taken to Roz much better than he had hoped and would follow her all day long—Korik had even managed to get her to practice some of K’lir’s training with him, when he was too busy to do so.

The razorfang cat seemed to grow by the day and would soon overshadow Roz, but for now, the kitten was entirely obedient to her. Her smug satisfaction at remaining the alpha made Korik smile. In reality, they both knew that K’lir had recognized the same magic in Korik as in Roz and likely saw her as exactly what she was: an extension of him, not a true cat. Still, the image of her sitting on the flowerbeds and chirping down at him to make him sit, and lay down, and jump was most amusing.

On the third day, Korik was organizing all the drawers behind the counter when a strange sense of alarm flashed in his chest, making his heart race suddenly—it was coming from Roz. He peered out the window in concern to see her looking to the side, focusing on something intently on the street.

“ The elf is here, ” she thought at him, her tail twitching in annoyance. Korik’s heart sank. The only elf she could mean was Varen. He had not needed to tell her about him—she could see it all in his memory, could sense it all in his emotions, which were her own. Seeing Varen in the flesh had agitated her, but he could sense something more, too—curiosity and maybe even hope.

“ Be nice, ” he thought, and even through the window he could see how her eyes narrowed in annoyance. But she remained sitting there with her tail swishing, and made no move to jump down, either to approach the elf or escape into the shop.

Then a shadow passed over the window, and there he was. Korik had grown so used to seeing him in his leather armor that it was almost startling to see him dressed in regular clothes: a grayish-blue woolen sweater with a high collar, his hair loose and flowing. He had not noticed Korik through the window, instead looking down with a smile—K’lir had spotted him, too, and was sniffing at his boots. He reached down to pet the kit, then straightened and offered a hand to Roz.

The calico cat first hissed at him, then butted her head against his hand—quite a mixed message, reflecting his own feelings, he supposed. To his credit, Varen didn’t pull away, and the amused smile remained on his face as he lightly scratched behind her ears.

Then he stepped closer to the door, and Korik could no longer see him through the window at the angle they were at. Several long seconds went by.

“ He’s just staring at the door, ” Roz thought. “ He smells terrified. ”

That could mean any number of things. Part of Korik hoped Varen would turn around and leave without bothering him, but it was only a small part—the rest of him was up and moving before he could even process what he was doing, reaching for the door on impulse.

He pulled the shop door open; Varen appeared on the other side, visibly startled. For a moment, they both stood motionless and staring at each other. Korik wasn’t sure what he had been thinking—wasn’t even sure what to say now that he’d opened the door.

“Hello, Korik,” Varen finally said, a forced calm to his voice. “I, um, I was hoping we could talk.”

The smaller, vindictive part of Korik wanted to slam the door in the elf’s face, just so he knew he was being soundly rejected. He wanted to ignore Varen the way he had the few times the elf had tried to initiate a conversation with him when they were still in Solitude.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. So he stepped aside and gestured for Varen to enter.

Before he could, Roz leaped down from the flowerbed, darting inside ahead of him with her tail still swishing angrily. K’lir followed quickly, though without any hostility. A faint smile flashed across Varen’s face as the two cats ran away.

“Come in,” Korik said. “I’ll make tea.”

Varen’s mouth opened like he might protest, but he seemed to think better of it as he stepped inside. He glanced around for a beat, then nodded.

“Lead the way.”

Korik kept his back turned to Varen as he busied himself at the kitchen counter, taking longer with the pot of tea than he really needed to. He could feel tension emanating from the elf, which only made him feel more on edge—and it didn’t help that his kitchen was so small that Varen was only a few feet away from him.

But when he couldn’t delay any more, Korik set the tea kettle and two cups on the table, then sat down heavily across from Varen. He poured a cup, and, after a beat of hesitation, pushed it toward Varen.

“Thank you,” Varen said lightly, taking the offered cup. He held it, but didn’t bring it to his lips. “And... Thank you for agreeing to see me.”

Korik poured himself a cup as well, and shrugged. “It must be important.”

Varen bit his lip, then nodded. “It is. I wanted to see you very much.”

“Why?” Korik asked. The sooner this was done, the sooner he could get Varen out of his house—although part of him was curious, even eager, to know why Varen was here. He wouldn’t let himself hope it was anything good, but maybe...

Varen was silent for a long time, looking down in his cup of tea for so long that Korik thought maybe he had entirely reconsidered whatever he meant to say in the first place. But then, finally, Varen glanced back up at him—he looked scared, an expression Korik had rarely seen on him before. When he spoke, though, his voice didn’t waver.

“I owe you an apology,” Varen said. “Several apologies, in fact. But first I wanted to start by... By apologizing for misleading you about the nature of our... physical relationship.”

It felt like Korik had been struck by electricity. Of all the things he thought Varen might say, this was low on the list.

“I know I was the one who framed things as casual. Physical only. To stay warm in the cold,” Varen continued. “But I... I wanted more than that. Much more. And I’m sorry I wasn’t up front with you about how I... How I felt.”

Much more . Somehow that felt like even more of a shock than everything leading up to it. Varen had wanted more—had wanted things to be more than just physical—which meant Korik had been right . He hadn’t been imagining the looks and touches and soft words. It had all been real.

Yet that made Varen’s behavior leading up to Solitude sting all the more.

As if reading his mind, Varen finally looked away from Korik, bowing his head with his brows furrowed.

“I felt a true emotional connection with you,” Varen said, this time barely above a whisper. “And I was terrified. I had never felt that way before. It’s no excuse, but I was afraid to be... vulnerable like that with you.”

“I...” Korik started, only to trail off. His mind was racing, trying to make sense of it all, trying to organize his thoughts into something coherent. “You—You hurt me.”

Varen winced, a look of shame crossing his face. “I know. I know it’s my first instinct to be cruel when I’m afraid. I don’t mean to be, but... I’m sorry. I’m sorry I pushed you away.”

“I had never been so vulnerable with anyone, ever,” Korik continued, his voice rasping. He could barely focus on what Varen was saying to him now, the words leaving him all in a rush. They had danced around their feelings with each other for so long—now it felt as though he were finally releasing a breath that he’d been holding for weeks. “I don’t have family. Or friends. But you—I let you in. And you slapped me in the face with the trust I gave you.”

Varen remained with his head bowed, looking miserably down at his tea. “I did. I wish I hadn’t. But I know I did. And I don’t want to—to be like this anymore. I hate hurting the people I care about. I hated pushing you away.”

Korik wiped at his eyes, realizing they had filled with tears. Before he could speak again, Varen was placing his tea back on the table and leaving his chair. For a moment, Korik was panicked that he would leave again. Instead, the elf got on his knees in front of Korik and placed both hands on the orc’s knees, looking up at him in a gesture of supplication.

His hazel eyes were glassy, full of equal parts grief and determination.

“I’m sorry, Korik. I’m sorry for how I treated you, truly, and I beg your forgiveness,” he said. “You are... You are the most fascinating, incredible person I’ve ever met—elf or orc, or otherwise. I’ve never felt this way for anyone in all my years. If there is anything I can do to make this up to you, I will.”

Korik’s heart was hammering in his chest. Varen had apologized in the moment, back in Solitude, but—not like this. This was different. This time, it felt real, like Varen had sat with his remorse and actively chose this, rather than just trying to backtrack the way he had been before. Like when the elven king had offered him anything he asked as compensation, Korik couldn’t think of anything, exactly, that Varen could do to make it up to him; but the conviction in his voice left Korik with no doubt that if he named any task or service now, Varen would do it without question.

Was it enough? There was still that sense of betrayal that Korik felt when he thought back to that moment—when Varen had so easily dismissed everything that had happened between them. But was that enough to keep Varen at arm’s length forever? He had never felt this way about someone, either; if Varen felt the same for him, was he truly prepared to walk away from whatever that meant? From whatever they could become?

“I...” Korik started, feeling faint. Was this really happening?

He placed one hand over Varen’s—the elf clutched his hand in return. His hands were cold, but the way he squeezed back was somehow hopeful. He felt solid and real. When Varen’s eyes met his, he didn’t flinch away this time. The ache of his presence had already started to dull.

With time, Korik thought, all wounds would heal over. Even if it left a scar, the wound still healed.

“I accept your apology,” Korik finished. “And... I also wanted more from our... situation. So for that, at least, we share some blame.”

For a moment, Varen didn’t respond. But then a smile broke across his features—eyes still watery, cheeks still flushed—and he squeezed Korik’s hand even tighter. He made no move to stand, but instead leaned forward, pressing his forehead to their clasped hands.

“Thank you,” the elf said, his voice muffled. “Your forgiveness means more to me than I can say. Thank you, Korik.”

Korik didn’t know what to say. So instead, with his other hand, he reached over and lightly patted Varen’s head, running his fingers along the elf’s smooth, soft hair.

After a moment, Varen sniffled and pulled a hand away to wipe his eyes. Then he stood, eyes glassy, and sat back down in his chair, before taking a long sip of his tea.

“So,” Korik said, still anxious. “What does this mean for... for us now?”

Varen’s relieved expression faltered slightly, and he seemed to think it over before responding.

“Will you stay in Drol Kuggradh?” he asked quietly, looking back at Korik. “Will you reconsider?”

For all that Varen had moved him, Korik didn’t hesitate before shaking his head.

“No. I still plan to leave, although I realize leaving during the middle of winter would be unwise. I intend to return to the mountain clan in the spring,” he said. Varen’s expression crumbled, making his heart hurt with guilt, but his mind was made up in that matter.

“But,” Varen started, but Korik held up a hand, and the elf immediately fell silent.

“It wasn’t just... us that made me want to leave,” he continued. “I want to travel more. I was telling the truth that being out in the wilderness with you made me realize how much I had missed it. It’s not a coincidence that Drol Kuggradh is the only proper city of orcs. Wanderlust is in our blood. I’d ignored it for so long I’d forgotten how it felt, but after being back out there... I can’t ignore it any more.”

Varen was silent for a long moment. He was looking at Korik with an expression that he couldn’t place: some strange mix of apprehension and admiration and yearning and uncertainty all at once. He took a sip of his own tea, as Varen seemed to consider his words. For once, he could understand why Varen had often seemed so impatient in their conversations, waiting for Korik to think through his words before speaking. Being on the other side of things was less comfortable.

“In that case,” Varen finally said, his voice soft. “If you will not stay... Will you allow me to go with you?”

Even after all the revelations so far today, this still took Korik entirely by surprise. He stared at Varen for a long moment, heart pounding, mind racing.

“Go with me?” he repeated, sure he had misheard. But Varen nodded.

“I enjoyed traveling with you, too,” the elf said softly. “If you’d have me, I’d like to continue to do so.”

“But—your position. Your responsibility,” Korik protested. Leaving his own life behind was proving to be more difficult than he initially thought, and he wasn’t in the elven military. How much more complicated would things be for Varen?

But, shocking him all over again, Varen only laughed.

“They’ve gotten nearly a century of service out of me,” the elf scoffed, shaking his head. “I can start the process to retire at any point now, especially now that the danger of rebellion seems to have been quelled for the moment. We’re no longer at war for the first time in living memory. And, besides—I was Head Ranger for many years. I liked that. Being Commander is much less enjoyable.”

“And they’ll just... Let you leave?” Korik asked. He realized he knew little about the logistics of the elven military, but when the former warlord had mounted armies to fight against the elves, the warriors of the clans loyal to him—which had been nearly all clans—were honor-bound to obey. They would only be relieved of their duty if they were permanently injured, or otherwise no longer able to fight. A warrior could petition to leave for certain extenuating circumstances, but these were uncommon, and less common still for their request to be granted. Perhaps the elves were more lenient.

“Of course,” Varen replied, frowning. “I mean, there is a mandatory service period when you first enlist, but I am long past that now. They start pushing you toward retirement once you hit a hundred and twenty most of the time, anyway. It isn’t immediate, but once I give notice of my intention to retire, my service would be concluded within three months.”

Korik remained silent, absorbing the information. He would not leave for a few months anyway, to avoid traveling through another winter storm. But did he want to make such a commitment to Varen right away? An hour ago, he had truly believed that he would never see Varen again and would be better off for it. It was far too soon to decide on such a thing, tempted as he was.

Varen’s expression had softened the longer Korik thought, and eventually the elf added,

“I intended to take some leave in the spring anyway, when Enriel has her baby. I want to go see her and the child. So I might retire then, regardless.”

“I will consider it,” Korik finally said. Varen nodded.

“There’s no rush,” he agreed. “Think it over.”

They sat there, looking at each other in silence. Korik could sense Roz watching with intense interest from the stairs; he breathed in slowly and deeply to calm himself, feeling her relax as well.

“Well,” Varen finally said, smiling nervously at him. “That was what I came here to say. This went... better than I was hoping for, really. Thank you, Korik. For giving me a second chance. I won’t waste it.”

Korik managed a nervous smile back. “You might as well stay for dinner.”

Varen’s smile widened, but suddenly grew hesitant again. “Could I perhaps stay the night, too?”

“Yes,” Korik answered—before he really processed the question, before he could even consider if maybe that was a bad idea.

But he was quickly realizing how much he had missed Varen: how much he had grown used to the other man’s presence beside him. The world was so much quieter when he wasn’t there. He had always preferred a quiet life, but now the silence felt empty.

Varen smiled at him, his hazel eyes shining.

“Thank you,” he said again, then glanced over at the stairs where Roz was still watching intently. “Can I see the cats now?”