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A fter Filak left, Daisy only half-heard Rosa’s enraged tirade about his appalling behaviour, or Jule’s grim promises to keep him away until he learned to control himself.

It was very kind of them, and Daisy should have thanked them, and loudly reiterated her fervent agreement. She was supposed to be finished with Filak . She was supposed to forget Filak , forever.

But instead, she only gave them halfhearted nods and smiles, until they finally said farewell, and left her alone to rest. And then she carefully opened her palm, and stared down at the glittering ring in her hand.

Stupid, to look. Stupid , to care. Stupid to not have immediately thrown it back in Filak’s face, just the way he deserved…

An odd lump was rising in her throat, and she carefully traced a finger against the bright yellow stone, following its perfectly cut facets. Gods , it was beautiful, the way it caught the light, the way it glittered and flared. Just like a light of its own. A sól .

Daisy swallowed hard, shook her head, squeezed her eyes shut. No . No . She’d told Filak she didn’t want his gifts, and then he’d given her the ring anyway. Ignoring her own stated wishes, again. And since she hadn’t given the ring back, she should now only be thinking of how impossibly large the jewel was, and how much coin it might fetch at market. How she could still sell it and buy passage back home to the city, and escape Filak forever…

“Daisy?” asked a tentative, familiar voice, jolting her eyes open — and she twitched all over at the sight of Julian . He was standing beside her bed, smiling uncertainly toward her, and holding a large basket.

“I apologize if I awoke you, sister,” he said. “ Filak only wished to send you this. They have barred him from entering here again, so…”

His voice trailed off, but he offered Daisy another cautious smile, and settled the basket beside her on the bed. And when Daisy blinked down toward it, she found — food?

Her breath caught, her eyes widening, because yes, good gods, the basket was packed full of food . A truly shocking quantity of food, all looking fresh and tempting and impossibly delicious. Thick -cut buttered bread, flaky golden pastries, sliced cured meats, bright berries, and little brown mushrooms. And not one, but two bulging waterskins, along with what appeared to be a full bottle of fresh milk.

“This is — for me?” she asked, her voice disbelieving. “ All of it?”

Julian’s smile drew higher, and he nodded. “ A gift from Filak ,” he said. “ He has been arranging it since early this morn, and had meant to bring it himself — but for now he said to tell you he sends his regards. And he hopes you like his last gift, also.”

His last gift . Julian’s eyes flicked down toward that yellow ring, still glittering with appalling brightness in Daisy’s palm, and she grimaced, clamped her fingers tightly around it. “ Well , I told him I didn’t want gifts,” she said thinly. “ And he ignored my wishes, and went ahead and did what he wanted. Again .”

There was a moment’s silence, in which Julian blinked back toward her, his head cocking sideways. “ Ach , Filak said you refused his sálugjald ,” he replied. “ But he would never have thought you wished for no gifts at all, ach? He yet now sees you as his mate, and thus, he would be remiss to not offer gifts to you. It is his sacred duty to tend to you, and care for you.”

Daisy should have scoffed, or laughed, but instead her unhelpful thoughts snapped backwards, to that moment with Filak in Lew’s apartment. When he’d looked into her eyes, and she’d been so, so certain what it had meant. That he was hers. That he was bound to tend to her, and care for her, for always…

“And I ken yellow topaz is the sign of Filak’s close kin, ach?” Julian added, with a nod toward the ring in Daisy’s hand. “ It is only right for him to offer you this, whether you took his sálugjald , or no.”

Oh. Yellow topaz. Like … a sól . A daisy.

Daisy’s eyes dropped back toward the ring, watching the beautiful glint of the firelight within it. And her traitorous thoughts couldn’t help comparing it to Lew’s diamond ring, which she’d instantly thought clunky and heavy, with such an overlarge, ostentatious stone. The kind of ring that was meant to impress various friends and colleagues, rather than to actually complement the wearer, or express one’s affections.

But this ring — Daisy swallowed, audible in her ears — this ring was different. Simpler . More subtle, more elegant. And though she had limited knowledge of jewelry-making, she could still see the impressive care and skill in the ring’s forging, the delicate curve of the band, the tiny perfect prongs holding the stunning round stone. Sólin mín.

“So if Filak really wanted me to have this,” Daisy finally said, without at all meaning to, “then why didn’t he want me to have that mate-price he offered me? He didn’t want me to have it, did he?”

Her thoughts were swarming again with that bleakness in Filak’s eyes, that strange, crushing sadness. No , he hadn’t wanted her to take it, and he’d been glad when she’d refused it. Right ?

“Was it just because he didn’t want to give up the jewels?” Daisy pressed, searching Julian’s face. “ Or he didn’t want to risk me using them to run away from him?”

Julian was looking rather harried, now, and he shot an uneasy glance toward the door. “ No , not that, I ken,” he said, with a grimace. “ It is only… the sálugjald is… fraught, amongst Filak’s kin. He always swore he would never grant one to a woman, for his mother…”

He grimaced again, clamping his mouth shut, even as Daisy straightened in the bed. What about Filak’s mother? And he’d sworn never to give a sálugjald to a woman… and then he’d tried to do it anyway, with her?

But Julian sharply shook his head, as if trying to shake away that thought of Filak’s mother. “ But now that you have refused this,” he said firmly, “ Filak shall be glad to offer you other gifts instead. Like this ring, and this meal. You shall eat it, ach?”

He was clearly trying to direct Daisy away from any further questions, and she sighed, and followed his gaze back toward the basket. Which still looked wonderful, and smelled wonderful, too — and she felt a sudden rumble in her belly, strong enough that Julian surely heard it. But when she shot a chagrined glance toward him, he looked almost indulgent, his eyes surprisingly soft on her face.

“I ken we have all forgotten about feeding you properly, amidst all the rest of this mess,” he said. “ I am glad Filak thought of this.”

Right. Daisy sighed again, but finally she picked up a slice of the thick buttered bread, and took a careful bite. It was delicious, of course, and she couldn’t deny a grudging appreciation toward Filak for sending it — and in truth, it had been lovely of Julian to bring it, too.

“You’ll have some too, won’t you?” she asked him, with an attempt at a smile. “ I don’t think I could eat all this in a week.”

Julian hesitated, but then gave a small smile back, and sank down onto the bench beside her bed. “ Ach , it is far more than most orcs would eat, also,” he wryly replied, as he plucked up a slice of meat with his claws. “ I ken Filak has long ago forgotten how much food most people eat in a meal.”

That seemed… an odd statement, and Daisy’s head tilted as she chewed another bite of the delicious bread. “ Does Filak … not eat?” she asked, while visions of his gaunt body flared behind her eyes. “ He’s not… ill, is he?”

She didn’t miss Julian’s twitch, or how he was looking distinctly harassed again, aiming another alarmed glance toward the door. “ Ach , no,” he replied, too quickly. “ He is quite well, I ken.”

Daisy’s stomach twisted, because Julian was again avoiding the question, wasn’t he? Keeping secrets from her. But gods, why did she even care anyway? She was supposed to be forgetting Filak , finished with Filak — and what did it matter if Julian knew all these things about him? If Filak had chained Julian up, and taken pleasure with him, and maybe still would…

But then Julian loudly cleared his throat, drawing Daisy’s eyes back toward him. “ I only should not wish to speak for Filak , without his leave,” he said slowly, as though he was carefully choosing his words. “ But the Nor -ka-esh — his kin in the north — are oft deeply devout, and put great faith in their gods. And fasting is an important part of their prayers, most of all when an orc is seeking the gods’ help or guidance.”

Huh. So Filak was so gaunt because he was fasting ? Praying ? Seeking his gods’ help and guidance? About what? It had to be something important… right? Something so important that he’d forgotten how most people ate ?

But Julian was looking uneasy again, and swallowed his next bite of meat with an audible gulp. “ The marking is oft part of their prayers, too,” he added, perhaps in another bid to change the subject. “ The inks are made from a northern fruit called the blekávextir , and whilst this means they are very safe to use, they are also not permanent, unless they are embedded into the skin. So the marks must oft be redone, mayhap every fortnight or so. It is a way to invoke the prayer, to speak it strong and unceasing, for all to see and know.”

Oh. It was a relief to hear the inks were safe, at least, but the rest of it only dragged up more questions, because Filak was covered in those marks, right? And were they all prayers, too? What the hell was he praying for? And …

Daisy’s eyes darted briefly downwards, toward her own tattooed sun, peeking up over the neckline of her grubby dress. And was that supposed to be a prayer, too? Daisy mín. Sólin mín…

Julian’s gaze had followed Daisy’s downwards, shifting with something she couldn’t quite read. “ And ach, a mark upon one’s mate is sacred, also,” he said, quieter. “ It is a sign of favour and fealty, and a plea to the gods for skill and wisdom and protection.”

Daisy’s breath hitched, and her thoughts flicked back to that night in the cave, to the memory of Filak’s hand tracing the sun on her skin, again and again in the dark. A prayer. A sacred plea. For skill, wisdom, protection…

“Has Filak ever marked you ?” Daisy asked him, too abrupt, too shameful — but she couldn’t seem to take it back, couldn’t stop searching Julian’s handsome face. Because the more she studied him, the more he looked almost… sad. Almost the way he’d looked down in that dungeon, when they’d first met, and he’d called her Filak’s mate.

But Julian instantly straightened on the bench, his eyes glinting on Daisy’s face. “ No , Filak has not marked me,” he said firmly. “ And as I have said, neither of us wished for this. He has always longed for a woman for his mate, and I have always longed for…”

His voice trailed off, the spark in his eyes fading again, and he let out a heavy exhale. “ For someone I once knew, long ago,” he finally finished, with a jerky shrug. “ From the north. Filak oft… reminds me of him, I ken.”

Oh. His sadness felt almost strong enough to taste now, catching at the back of Daisy’s throat. And tangling with something damnably like relief, because of course Filak wouldn’t stand for being someone else’s replacement, for being a permanent second best. He would want to be the only one, he would want a mate who was only, always his. Mín . Sólin mín…

“I’m sorry,” Daisy said finally, uselessly, into the thick silence. “ About the loss of your… friend.”

But Julian quickly waved it away, shaking his head. “ Ach , Rurik is yet alive and well,” he said, too brightly. “ And living a good life with many lovers in the north, as far as I have heard. It is” — he grimaced, his face reddening — “foolish, to yet think of him thus, I ken.”

Daisy swallowed, and suddenly there was only sympathy, or maybe even commiseration, clutching tight in her gut. “ Well , I don’t think it’s foolish,” she told him, hoarse. “ At least, not compared to any of the appallingly stupid things I’ve done, these past few days.”

She attempted a laugh, but it came out sounding harsh and bitter, enough that Julian’s head cocked sideways, his brows furrowing. “ You mean with this?” he asked, with a vague wave at the room, the bed, maybe the mountain. “ I am sure you have done naught to regret. This was all only an unfortunate misunderstanding, over this attack.”

Daisy couldn’t choke back her laugh, scraping hard and loud from her mouth. “ No , I mean with Filak ,” she bit out, before she could stop it. “ Because even before he locked me in that dungeon, he was — dreadful. Dangerous . He trapped me in an underground cave in the dark. He destroyed my valuable property. He broke into my apartment. He acted as though he owned me, from the first moment we met. And instead of running away, or telling him to leave me alone, forever, I …”

She drew down a breath, let it out in another hoarse, shaky laugh. “ I touched him,” she gulped. “ I let him touch me. I let myself believe I knew him, I trusted him, I understood him, even if I didn’t know a single thing about him. Or a single damned word he said!”

Her face was burning, now, her voice pained and trembling, and she braced herself for Julian’s disbelief, his mockery, his judgement. Because surely even an orc would see this for what it was, an utterly indefensible display of weakness, a shocking lack of judgement, foolish and immature behaviour, appallingly unscientific, dangerous…

But Julian didn’t say any of those things. And instead, his eyes looked sympathetic, even encouraging, as he twitched a small, knowing smile toward her. “ Ach , but Filak has never been one to hide who he is, or how he feels, or what he longs for,” he replied, with a shrug. “ I ken he would have made himself quite clear to you, ach? He would have sought to show you that you could trust him, and that he would care for you.”

Daisy blinked, frowned, as more memories blurred behind her eyes. Filak carefully guiding her across that rubble-strewn room, showing her those fallen rocks, explaining about waiting for the morning. Filak licking her wounds, drawing a sun on her heart, his hands gripping her hips, his body quiet and close against her in the dark…

“Also, you are Ka -esh now,” Julian added, with another shrug. “ And Ka -esh are oft… curious. We wish to learn, and explore, and seek truth and worth and beauty. Even if others cannot see it, or understand.”

Daisy blinked at Julian again, her swallow catching in her throat — and too late, she shook her head. “ But I’m not really — Ka -esh,” she said, though it didn’t sound even slightly convincing. “ I’m not actually — Filak’s mate .”

Julian’s eyes betrayed a brief, telltale glance downwards, catching on Daisy’s metal collar, the inked mark on her heart, the yellow ring she was still holding — but then he shrugged again, and glanced away. “ Ach , well, you are yet an artist, then,” he replied. “ And artists also must needs be curious, ach? You must seek beauty and worth where no others care to look. You must… see . You must learn, and know, for yourself .”

Oh. Daisy could only seem to keep staring at him, as a sudden, involuntary shiver rippled up her back, prickling gooseflesh across her skin. You must… see. Learn , and know, for yourself…

As if Julian was — absolving her. Accepting all her ridiculous choices, all her foolish unthinkable actions, without mockery or contempt. Without even the slightest judgement. You are yet an artist.

And it shouldn’t have mattered. Shouldn’t have felt like this. Like a sudden bracing breath of cool air, a field of wildflowers rippling in the sunlight, a tight hug from the mother she barely remembered…

“But — I’m not,” Daisy whispered, even as it tightened painfully in her gut. “ A real artist, I mean. I don’t have a job anymore, I only ever…”

But she couldn’t seem to finish, not with that twisting in her stomach, or that distinct confusion again flaring across Julian’s eyes. “ Ach , you are an artist,” he said blankly, as if this was the most obvious statement in the world. “ I saw your work. Those plants you drew, the ones Jule showed us. You cannot think those were not art ?”

Daisy’s stomach twisted again, and she choked down a strange, sudden urge to laugh, or maybe sob. No , they weren’t, or were they, and it had nothing to do with Filak , with her foolishness, and…

“I ken you are only weary and overwrought, sister,” Julian said now, with a decisive set to his mouth. “ You ought to rest more, ach? And mayhap I shall bring you some drawing tools, also. This shall help, I am sure, for no Ka -esh — or artist — ought to be kept from their calling.”

He still sounded so certain, so utterly convinced, and Daisy couldn’t find a way to argue it, even as Julian rose to his feet. “ And also,” he added, quieter, “in all Filak’s time here, his own people have not sought to know him, or understand him, or trust him. That you could do this in one night, enough to gain his lifelong fealty as your mate” — he twitched her a sad smile — “this is art all of its own, ach? This is… seeing .”

Daisy still couldn’t seem to counter it, but perhaps Julian didn’t expect her to, because he only gave her a wave goodbye, and then strode away. Abandoning her with the basket, the ring, and all those impossible, unthinkable claims.

You are yet an artist. Artists must needs be curious. You must learn, and know, for yourself.

It kept ringing around and around through Daisy’s thoughts for the rest of the day, even as she attempted to doze, to snack on more of the basket, to nod and smile at Kesst and Efterar when they stopped by to check on her. A few more people stopped by to introduce themselves, too, including a shy, smiling orc named Eben — who was apparently a friend of Julian’s , and a medic here in the sickroom — and then another medic named Salvi , who cheerfully claimed to be Rosa’s favourite kin-brother. And then came a kind, dark-haired woman named Gwyn , who apparently served as the mountain’s midwife.

But despite Daisy’s attempts to smile and converse, and to listen to whatever they were saying, she was admittedly still far too distracted. Not only by all Julian’s hints and claims — Filak’s fasting, his praying, his mother — but also by the beautiful ring still in her fingers. And finally, most of all, by the steadily rising sounds and voices coming from the sickroom’s door.

The sounds had been quiet and intermittent at first — a few urgent whispers, a low angry growl. But they slowly grew louder and more frequent, until they were echoing through the sickroom, scraping up Daisy’s spine. There were several sharp bangs and shouts, and then a harsh, angry voice that sounded far too much like Filak’s …

“Yes, of course it’s Filak ,” Kesst told Daisy , when she caught him walking past. “ But don’t worry, he won’t get in. We’ve put an entire band of guards on the door, and Jule says he can declare war as much as he wants, we’re not budging. So you stay put, and stay safe .”

A resentful satisfaction flared across his face, and he gave her a grim smile before flouncing off again. And Daisy swallowed as she stared after him, and fought back the sudden appalling urge to slip out of bed, maybe even to follow him toward the door…

But she gritted her teeth and forced herself to stay in bed, even as she kept twisting that beautiful gold ring on her finger. Because somehow it had gotten onto her finger, and she couldn’t have even said when, or how. Or , even more unnerving, how Filak had known the right size for a ring in the first place…

Had it just been luck? Or had he maybe somehow noted it, when he’d crushed Lew’s ring? And was that why he’d crushed that ring in the first place? Because he’d meant to give her a replacement, all that time?

Daisy mín. Sólin mín…

But no. No . She wasn’t supposed to care. She was supposed to be forgetting Filak , forever. She would rest here for another day or two, like she’d promised, and then she would sell the ring, and return home to the city, and find a way to salvage her career. And that was all.

But it all made for a strange, unsettled afternoon, one that dragged for what felt like an eternity. And even when it seemed that night had finally fallen, quieting the room and dimming the fire to a low flicker, Daisy’s attempts at sleeping were restless and broken, full of strange, half-remembered dreams. Dreams of Filak’s glinting eyes, his warm steady hands. The mate-price he’d offered her, but clearly hadn’t wanted her to take, the joy and relief in his kiss afterwards. Gift , sólin mín , only an unfortunate misunderstanding, how much belladonna, skill, wisdom, protection, mass murder, learn, know, see…

It was too hot, too uncomfortable, agitated and aching, alone and untouched. Pulsing in Daisy’s belly, grating and scraping in her ears. Louder and sharper, coming closer, closer, shuddering through the room, until —

The fire winked out. Plunging the room into pure, all-encompassing blackness, just like the black of the cave, the tunnels, the dungeon…

Daisy’s eyes snapped wide open, her heartbeat suddenly thundering, her body strained and still in the bed. Craning to see, to hear, her panic roiling, her mouth opening, about to call for help —

When a hot, powerful hand suddenly clapped over her mouth, and held her still in the dark.