Page 19 of Faeling (Monstrous World #4)

Perhaps it was a stubborn, even na?ve, plan, but Ravenna held fast to it.

While parts of her thrilled at the idea of having Vallek for her mate, she had to be practical.

Her revenge became increasingly complicated if she was introduced as the mate and queen of the orc king. Eventually, Amaranthe would find out.

That could mean putting Balmirra under threat, and while she intended to utilize Vallek’s army to take on the hag on the faelands throne, she couldn’t stomach the thought of bringing misery to the whole city. She would take her battle to the faelands.

And…petty as it might be, Ravenna had already had most of her life decided for her by her father. She wasn’t about to let another male swoop in and decide what her life would now be. Even if that meant denying her heart and her azai .

Her life was hers. If she wanted to dedicate it to seeking revenge, well then, that was her right. Her father couldn’t stop her, and she’d be damned if she let her mate try.

Her suggestion, however, was met with utter silence. Even by Asta. A quick glance at all three siblings revealed that it had likely been the wrong thing to say.

“The mate-bond isn’t an inconvenience,” said Eydis. Her tone was calm, measured, but Ravenna immediately sensed she’d offended the orcess. “It’s a blessing. The timing may be inconvenient, perhaps, but never the bond.”

Vallek moved to stand before Ravenna. Seated as she was, he loomed even larger above her, and she had to crane her neck to meet his serious gaze. He lifted a hand to tip her chin even further up with his knuckle before running a feather-light touch down the length of her throat.

“What’s done is done, skala . The beast has decided. There’s no going back.”

That may be true, but it was also true that Ravenna refused to be anything to him just because he said it was so.

“Fae also feel a mate pull, do they not?” asked Eydis.

Ravenna swallowed hard. “They do.”

“And?” said Vallek, although his hard face told her he already knew.

Wetting her lower lip, she reluctantly admitted, “You are azai .”

His nostrils flared and his chest swelled, the prideful triumph obvious in his intense blue eyes.

“Then we must move forward, not back,” said Eydis, far too reasonably.

Leaning down, Vallek caught a lock of her hair to curl around his fingers. “That means you stay with me, skala .”

“ Skala? ” Asta laughed. “That’s the least romantic thing I’ve ever heard, breddah .”

“Yes, I’m sure your many paramours in the garrison are far more creative with their pet names.” Eydis rolled her eyes.

“Just because you’re old and married doesn’t mean the rest of us are dead and dusty.” Asta met Ravenna’s scandalized look with a wink.

Were all siblings this…antagonistic?

“Ravenna will stay within my quarters until a plan is formed,” said Vallek.

Eydis nodded. “We will need to deal with several matters before she’s introduced as your mate. Most of all, Ulrich. For now, we will say the soothsayer is ill and being tended at a hospital in the lower city.”

“Leave Ulrich to me,” Vallek said. Pointing at her full but untouched plate, he said, “Now you must eat.”

Ravenna’s eyes narrowed, but before she could say anything cutting, Asta knocked her shoulder gently with her own. The orcess pulled a face at her brother’s order. “Best do what he says,” she teased, making a rude gesture at Vallek.

“Don’t test me, either of you. She’s my mate, I must know she’s cared for.”

Her soppy heart might want to flutter and swoon at such a statement, but Ravenna had locked away that heart long ago.

It’d survived decades of living with the imminent death of her beloved parents, and then the devastating aftermath when their demise came to pass.

Perhaps there might have been a romantic inside her once, but that person lay dead alongside her parents and whatever hopes she might’ve had for her life.

So instead, she glared at her bossy mate, telling him without words that she put an apple to her lips not for him but for her.

It was an awkward handful of moments as they all fell silent, the only sound Ravenna’s chewing. Whatever Vallek thought to gain, he seemed determined to stand there and watch her take every bite.

It was Asta who finally broke the silence. “If she can maintain the disguise, I suppose she could do that outside your quarters for now. I can assign her own guards—I’ll pick the men myself.”

The captain was quickly becoming her favorite sibling. Ravenna rushed to chew her bite, anxious to agree with Asta’s suggestion, but—

“No.” Vallek’s denial was swift and firm.

“It’s a reasonable compromise,” said Eydis.

Yes, she knew she’d always liked Eydis!

Slashing his hand through the air, Vallek growled, “No. She will not leave my sight.”

True ire sparked in her belly, and Ravenna stood to face him, leaving her plate behind on a sideboard. She channeled all her frustration and fury into a volley of ferocious pokes to his damnably magnificent chest.

“You insufferable—” poke “—bullheaded—” poke “—inconsiderate—” poke “—swine! I will not be your prisoner!”

He opened his big mouth to meet her very clever, very judicious protests when a heavy knock echoed through the den. One of the doors to the quarters opened, and a guard poked his head in.

“Forgive me, my king. There’s an urgent message for you.”

Hrothgar’s sudden arrival sent the citadel into something of a frenzy. Ulrich and Mattias were dispatched to the southern gate with a handful of berserkers in full regalia to escort the wily old chieftain and his retinue through the city. Preferably taking the long way up.

In the meantime, Asta gathered Balmirra’s court as Eydis rallied the staff to ensure Ninevar’s Basilica and comfortable accommodations were ready. For his part, Vallek dressed in his kingly best with Bryn’s help fastening buckles and tying straps.

His grumpy mate hovered nearby, unwilling to participate but curious enough to watch him prepare.

He wasn’t too proud to show off his form in his regalia—a golden breastplate polished to a mirror shine, fine leather boots trimmed in fur, his summer linen burgundy robe embroidered with gold thread, gauntlets of leather and iron, a gorget studded with rubies, and gold ear and tusk caps.

As he turned to leave his quarters, he offered Ravenna a grin. “I will return soon,” he promised.

“I’ll be here,” she sneered. Although she meant it as a barb, her words put him at ease. His beast wasn’t so agitated knowing that she would be safely tucked away in his quarters. He even left Bryn to see to Ravenna’s every need.

By the time Ulrich and Mattias led Hrothgar’s party into the basilica, Vallek sat upon his throne to receive them, Hormhím’s handle resting against the outer side. The Balmirran court lined the central aisle, looking on in interest at the orcs from Innrinhom.

The grizzled chieftain led his retinue, mouth pulled into a scowl around his tusks.

The delegation’s arrival wasn’t so surprising—he and Eydis had debated whether Hrothgar would send his own after hearing of Kennum’s offer.

What was astonishing was that Hrothgar had come himself.

He wasn’t known for leaving his stronghold, let alone leading peaceful delegations.

As the Innrini approached, Vallek met Hrothgar’s scowl with a smile of welcome. Sitting tall in his throne, he extended his arm in greeting.

“My friends,” he boomed, voice carrying through the basilica, “welcome to Balmirra.”

The Balmirran court bowed their heads in respect to both him and Hrothgar. The Innrini, however, were more scattered in their response, only some choosing to bow their heads in deference to Vallek.

Hrothgar wasn’t one of them. Instead, he stepped forward, his leather armor creaking, as if he meant to climb the dais steps but stopped at their foot.

Even in his old age, Hrothgar was a formidable orc, his wide shoulders still rounded in muscle.

His mane and neatly trimmed beard had gone silver, and one of his eyes had gone milky with rheumatism.

His jaw and forearms were littered with little scars, a brutal history of his long reign.

“This is some hill you’ve got,” he said by way of greeting.

Vallek’s smile turned sharp. Balmirra was a mountain, one which Hrothgar had visited before.

“Indeed. I hope it didn’t prove too steep for you.”

Hrothgar snorted. “These old knees have a few steps in them yet.” Squinting his rheumy eye up at Vallek, he said, “Well, no reason to belay the point. I heard you were in need of a queen, and so I’ve brought you one.”

Even though she stood off to the side of the dais in her usual place, Vallek could feel Eydis’s smug satisfaction to hear she was right.

“That is most gracious of you,” said Vallek.

“You will be spoiled for choice,” agreed Hrothgar.

The old chieftain stepped to the side, waving forward three orcesses, all dressed in gleaming green silks with silver thread, the colors of Innrinhom.

Each was lovelier than the last, one tall and buxom, another with enticingly wide hips, and the third with beautiful ringlets of mahogany hair, a rarity amongst orc-kin.

“These are my daughters, Yphella and Yngrid,” he said, gesturing at the first two orcesses, “and this is my niece, Birgít.” She of the beautiful hair . “Any of them would make a fine queen.”

The orcesses all bowed their heads in respect, smiling up at him with silver-capped tusks and low-cut tunics. His blood rushed hotter at the sight of such bounty, his eyes hardly knowing where to look first. Many a male would kill for such a choice.

“And what would you hope to gain by such a union, my friend? To part with any of your kinswomen is a high price.”

Hrothgar harrumphed, as if this part needed to be dislodged from his throat. “An Innrini queen would…unify our kind.”

“So you would recognize my position?”

The old chieftain’s lips thinned between his yellowed tusks, but eventually he said, “Aye. I’d treat with you.”

Vallek hid his triumphant smile behind his hand, instead nodding gravely at Hrothgar’s offer.

It was just what Vallek had wanted. The reticent chieftain of Innrinhom had come himself to barter for peace.

This was everything he and Eydis had been working toward.

A peaceful, diplomatic end to eastern resistance to his kingship.

Finally, he would have a unified orcish kingdom, strong enough to meet the Pyrrossi threat.

He should have enjoyed it. He should already be considering which of the three orcesses would suit him best.

Except, he thought none of that. No, his thoughts were only for the angry faeling in his quarters.

The All-Mother was known for her cruel sense of humor. Just when Vallek had everything in his grasp, it seemed she would make him choose.

The east without bloodshed. Or his fae mate—with perhaps a little bloodshed.

Gods, this was truly a mess.