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It was the night of the Skyli’s first-ever gleeskapur , and Daisy couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her mate so agitated.

“ Vertu kyrr, myrkrie mitt ,” she said lightly, gripping his chin, tilting his head slightly sideways. “ Almost done, ach?”

Filak wrinkled his nose, but otherwise obliged, holding himself rigid and still while Daisy finished repainting the húeflúr down his jaw. It was a fairly recent one, one he’d asked her to paint just last week, praying for wisdom as he spoke on behalf of his kin — but Daisy knew how much he wanted to face the gleeskapur with all his húeflúr dark and new, made fresh for his kin.

“There,” she said firmly, as she drew back, and ran her eyes up and down Filak’s familiar form. He hadn’t dressed yet, giving her a marvellous view of all his smooth pale skin, and his newly shaven head, and all his fresh black marks. Some of them the same as he’d always had, but some of them extended, or changed, or new. Daisy was especially partial to the elaborate sun she’d carved into his chest, and the intricate inked flowers rising up on both his shoulders. And , of course, the promises on his thighs, the tantalizing rings on his bollocks, the prayers of adoration and bounty all over his hanging half-hard cock.

That cock gave a hopeful little twitch as Daisy eyed it, but she reluctantly shook her head, and angled a wry smile at Filak’s face. “ You didn’t want to be late, remember?” she said. “ But after, ach? Ríea í dyflissu?”

Filak’s eyes flickered with warmth, and then he slid his arm around Daisy’s back, and drew her close. “ Ach , please, sólin mín ,” he murmured, into her hair. “ Thank you, for bearing me today.”

Daisy huffed a laugh and waved it away, because these days, even Filak’s grumpiest moods were surprisingly mild, and usually targeted at understandable subjects. Like the other day, when Kesst had brought in a massive, monstrous carved bed, apparently meant for posing in. Or when Rosa had signed Filak up to teach weekly classes at Orc Mountain’s school, without actually consulting him first — in addition to his regular teaching at the nearby Skai Wolf - Camp , too.

But of course Filak had agreed to the extra teaching, after a considerable amount of muttering and complaining. And Daisy always thoroughly enjoyed their weekly overnight trips back to Orc Mountain , especially now that Filak and the Ka -esh had designed a new cart, which ran with satisfying speed on clever steel rails through the tunnels. It made visits far easier than before, and it meant that there was usually a steady stream of people back and forth between Orc Mountain and the Skyli , visiting friends and working on restorations and making trips to Dusbury and the Wolf - Camp .

And tonight, they had multiple guests on the way for the gleeskapur — a Nor -ka-esh tradition, Daisy now knew, to honour the longest day of the year. The eye in the cathedral — its sólarsyn — had been wide open all day, pouring the room full of dizzying sunlight, so bright Filak had only been able to look at it from afar. But now that the sun had set, they would gather and celebrate it, and dance together in the dark.

And as the Skyli’s vaunted Verndari , Filak would serve as the night’s host, and he even had a prescribed outfit to wear, too. A short black leather kilt, and one of those long hooded cloaks Daisy remembered him wearing out to the garden — but now it hung off his shoulders behind him, showing off all his marks, and his tall muscled body. Which , thanks to all his constant eating, had filled out an astonishing amount these past few months — to the point where Daisy couldn’t see a single rib, and his upper arms were thicker around than her head.

“Must be strong and hale, to guard mate and new son,” he’d firmly told her, when Daisy had first mentioned it. “ You no like?”

But of course Daisy liked it, just as much as she’d liked the previous slimmer version of him, too — which would likely reappear someday, if he ever had something important to pray for. And he was still her absolute favourite subject to draw, his body a work of art in so many ways, and Daisy still took a strange, visceral thrill in capturing it on the page, especially her own marks that were now forever embedded into his skin. She’d marked him, she’d claimed him, he was hers .

And she was also his, and once she’d helped him finish dressing, Filak guided her over to stand before him, and began dressing her, too. Not in the leather trousers these days — her pregnant waist was far too full for that now — but instead in a new black kilt and cloak of her own, ordered from Orc Mountain’s shop just for the party. And then he chose jewels for her, too, all her beautiful pieces of yellow topaz — though he’d given her many other splendid jewels these past months, too. Jewels made of deep red rubies, bright orange amber, even pale yellow diamonds. All of them gems Filak had carefully sourced and dug himself, and then cut and polished into brilliant facets, and given to Gareth for forging. Filak’s own stunning art, created just for her.

But the yellow topaz jewels were still Daisy’s favourites, and maybe Filak’s , too. And she loved the way he was looking at her in them, his eyes proud and hungry and admiring all at once, his hands spreading wide and possessive against the bare round swell of her belly.

“Beautiful, sólin mín ,” he murmured, husky. “ Mayhap one more prayer, before gleeskapur ?”

He was tracing his claw down some of the last remaining unmarked skin on Daisy’s belly — he’d done an admirable job of covering it all over with his prayers, these past months — and she smiled up at him, slid her arms around his neck. “ You know I would love that,” she murmured back. “ But you’re still going to be late, myrkrie mitt .”

Filak made a face, and shot a longing glance toward the nearby jar of ink — and then he swiped for it anyway, and dipped his claw in with quick, decisive purpose. “ Ach , only a small one,” he said. “ Mayhap … here?”

He gently tapped his claw at Daisy’s cheek, his eyes searching hers. Still uneasy about marking her face, even though they’d done it a few times now — a small prayer for wisdom on her temple, one for intelligence along her hairline, one for pleasure down the side of her neck.

But Daisy could almost taste his longing for it, his hunger to so clearly mark her as his own, before all his kin. And despite all the other marks that already claimed it, Daisy always still wanted more, too. Wanted that pride and possession made truth, wanted it shouted fresh and clear for all to see.

So she nodded, her heart skipping in her chest, as Filak stepped close, and raised his ink-dipped claw to her cheek. And then, with soft, gentle strokes, he wrote the prayer all the way down her cheek, from the corner of her eye to her jaw.

“Pray for seeing,” he told her, hushed. “ For art.”

For seeing. For art . It prickled behind Daisy’s eyes, drew her mouth into a slow smile — and when Filak guided her over toward the wall, toward the perfectly smooth looking-glass he’d embedded into it, she eagerly went and drank up the sight. The new prayer so stark and vivid on her skin, a strangely powerful anchor for the others all over her. For seeing. For art.

Behind her, Filak looked like art, too, tall and striking and marked all over. The prayers on his head now thick enough to look like hair from a distance, the sun on his chest so compelling and intricate, and — Daisy could admit — some of her best work. And between their marks, and their matching black ensembles, and the sight of Filak’s clawed hands now circling around her, stroking possessively at her swollen belly, it was a sight Daisy wanted to commit to memory, to revel in for as long as she pleased.

“ Gott , ach?” she murmured toward him, meeting his glittering eyes in the glass. “ Like we belong. Together . And here, too.”

She’d cast a brief, appreciative glance at the room around them, which she always loved looking at, too. Filak had worked intensively on it for weeks and weeks, first in choosing the location — just beside and below the forsalur , the Skyli’s greeting-room, so he could be easily available in case of emergency. And then he’d cut the room out of the stone himself, and carved all the surfaces with painstaking care. The floor was all smooth black tile, as soft as velvet beneath Daisy’s feet, and the rounded walls were far rougher, an intriguing mix of natural stone and glittering colour. And of course, the colour was all from stunning gems Filak had unearthed himself — many from Daisy’s sálugjald — and then he’d embedded them into the stone in clever and complicated ways. So there was always something new to discover, an intriguing angle to study and see.

And best of all, hidden in one of those walls, was the secret door to Daisy’s studio. A door only she and Filak knew how to open, and which led to a large, white-walled room, full of paper and paints and canvases and notebooks and sketchbooks and pressed flowers and stones. Many of the paints were made from stone sourced by Filak himself — iron ochre for orange and yellows, lapis lazuli for blues, celadonite for greens — and to protect Daisy from the fumes, he had also installed excellent ventilation, too. And for the finishing touch, embedded high in the studio’s ceiling, there was an impressive new sólarsyn , running up through multiple layers of rock, so Daisy could draw and paint below its bright beaming light.

“ Ach, sólin mín ,” Filak murmured now, husky into her ear. “ Mates . Artists . Home .”

Daisy exhaled and nodded, drank it all up for one more deep, satisfying breath. It was here, it was real, it was hers .

And when Filak gently clasped her hand, drew her toward the door, she eagerly went. Waiting while he closed off the stone door to their room, shutting it so that it appeared to vanish into the wall itself. And then he stopped to briefly consult with Thomas and Elgr , who were guarding the nearby exit from the forsalur . But apparently all the confirmed guests from Dusbury had now arrived, so Filak also closed off that door, and thanked Thomas and Elgr before waving them off to the party, too.

The sounds from the cathedral rose as they approached, the excited voices and laughter carrying between the heavy, propulsive drumbeats. Stirring up Daisy’s own excitement too, thrumming with her heartbeat. They would honour the sun, and all their kin, here in their newfound home.

When they reached the cathedral’s familiar main entrance, Daisy had to pause and take a breath, drink up the spectacular sight before them. The huge room had been fully restored, its walls pure white and gleaming, carved all over with beautiful matching patterns. While the floor’s tiles followed their own black-and-white pattern, spiralling in a perfect circle toward the middle of the room — with only one slight variation, where Filak had blended the stone with the proof of their lovemaking. And high above, the sólarsyn in the ceiling was still wide open, its iris a deep watching black, reflecting the night sky far above.

And instead of being bare and empty and broken, like the way they’d first found it, the cathedral was full of life and energy and warmth. Kesst had done an admittedly impressive job with the decorating, creating multiple distinct areas for sitting and gathering, full of durable, comfortable furnishings. There was also a dedicated space for music and art and dancing — currently occupied by multiple Ash - Kai drummers — and all the alcoves surrounding the room were covered with colourful silks, offering privacy or extra sun protection as needed. And scattered throughout the room were large rounded planters, bursting with food and flowers grown in the light of the sun, while one of the alcoves hid a delightful mushroom garden, too.

But most wonderful of all were all the people. All Daisy and Filak’s familiar friends from Orc Mountain , chattering and laughing and dancing together, along with a large contingent from the nearby Wolf - Camp , too. And of course, most of the mountain’s Ka -esh seemed to be in attendance — and mingling all amongst them, their pale marked bodies gleaming in the lamplight, were the Nor -ka-esh. Filak’s kin.

They’d begun arriving months before, soon after Filak and Daisy had taken their first trip north together. It had been a long, tiring journey, but Filak had known the route well, and all the best places to camp underground along the way. And when they’d finally arrived at the twisty, impossibly deep warrens the Nor -ka-esh had dug for themselves, Daisy and Filak been greeted with unease and confusion, and a significant amount of suspicion, too.

But the Nor -ka-esh hadn’t been actively hostile, either, and Daisy hadn’t missed how gaunt and pale they’d been, including the small group of silent, shadow-eyed women. And though some of the Nor -ka-esh orcs had hair, most of them did not, suggesting they’d all been intensively praying, too, surely for help and food and safety. And upon seeing Filak , several of the orcs had greeted him with genuine-seeming excitement, and even eagerly demanded — in heavily accented Aelakesh — that he give them a thorough account of all he had done, since he’d left.

Filak had switched into the same accent with easy familiarity, and he’d then told them the entire tale of how he’d spent the past few years — even the parts of how he’d struggled to gain a mate, and mistrusted the other Ka -esh at Orc Mountain . And when he’d reached the part about finding the Skyli , the Nor -ka-esh had gasped and stared, and several of them had loudly protested, and insisted he show them proof at once.

But Filak had anticipated that, and he’d produced multiple artifacts from the Skyli for them to touch and scent. But it turned out that the strongest proof of all had been Daisy’s sketchbook, and all her detailed illustrations of the Skyli — from their first discovery of its ruined state, all the way to the restorations they’d recently completed.

After that, the Nor -ka-esh had finally agreed to send a small band south to investigate, led by a bulky, unsmiling, heavily marked orc named Krusa . Daisy had initially been uncertain about travelling back with Krusa and the others, but she’d quickly come to know and appreciate them, and their many commonalities with Filak . She’d especially enjoyed seeing Filak interact with them, excitedly debating about stones or gems or digging, or telling tales of days long past, or exploring underground with astonishing ease. Filak seemed particularly close to this Krusa — apparently they’d grown up together — and Daisy had been highly entertained by how Filak would rant and gripe at Krusa about some insignificant topic or another, growing more and more expressive and eloquent with every breath, until Krusa’s stern demeanour would finally break into deep, earth-rumbling laughter.

And when they’d finally reached the Skyli again, it had been Krusa who had been most enraptured by it. First just staring at the cathedral for an entire afternoon, and then wandering endlessly around the corridors, and eagerly discussing repairs with the Ka -esh from the mountain. And it had only taken a few days before Krusa had begun disappearing with various Ka -esh orcs into dark corridors, too, to which Filak had rolled his eyes, and irritably complained to Daisy that they could have saved themselves all this effort just by sending a few portraits north instead.

But in the end, Krusa had returned north to his kin, and had fiercely advocated for Filak’s full restoration to the clan, and a return to the Skyli . And several weeks later, he had come back leading a group of about a dozen Nor -ka-esh — multiple orcs, a few women, and even two small, wide-eyed orclings. And Daisy would never forget the moment when the Nor -ka-esh first stepped into the Skyli’s brightly sunlit cathedral, gasping and clutching each other, gazing around at the stunning white room with shock and wonder and longing.

Since then, the Nor -ka-esh had devoted themselves to the restoration efforts, working closely alongside their new Ka -esh kin, and freely sharing their significant knowledge of ancient Ka -esh building methods. And though the transition hadn’t always been seamless — mostly due to various cultural differences around food, language, and sunlight preferences — they’d so far managed to settle any conflicts peacefully, with heavy reliance on their shared Ka -esh commitment to knowledge, curiosity, and exploration.

But a crucial part of it, Daisy also knew, had been Filak . Since his kin’s arrival, he’d worked tirelessly to support them, explaining customs and rationales, providing food and ink and furs, and freely offering his stone-seeing skills whenever needed. He’d also arranged regular group tours south to Orc Mountain , made dozens of personal introductions, and fiercely advocated for the Nor -ka-esh with John - Ka and the rest of the mountain. Showing himself a truly excellent Verndari of the Skyli , just as Daisy had known he would be.

And while Filak hadn’t yet received any formal apologies from the Nor -ka-esh for their treatment of him in the north, he hadn’t seemed bothered by that fact, either. And when Daisy had asked him about it, he’d only shaken his head, and wryly smiled toward her. “ Ach , they show their truth, sólin mín ,” he’d told her. “ They follow me, and honour me, and heed my words. They know I have earned this right amongst them, and the more I show them kindness in this, without seeking their penance or pain, the more they will honour it, and bring the rest of our kin here to be safe with us.”

It had shimmered in Daisy’s belly — her formerly angry, lonely mate, now trusting his kin, freely offering them patience and forgiveness, and earning their trust in return. And he hadn’t been wrong, either, because now — Daisy’s eyes ran over the assembled guests in the cathedral — there were dozens of Nor -ka-esh making their homes here. Dozens of orcs, women, and children, all living peacefully with their fellow Ka -esh, and working to restore all they’d lost, and to build a new future together.

And there, striding over toward them, was none other than Krusa himself, giving them a curt nod. “ Góeur gleeskapur ,” he said, with a wave of his clawed hand toward the hubbub behind him. “ Og góe húeflúr .”

Good party , it meant, and good prayer — and he’d directed that last bit toward Daisy , and that distinct new mark Filak had drawn down her cheek. And Daisy could feel Filak preening beside her, a satisfied smile pulling at his mouth. “ Ach , tú líka ,” he replied, with a nod toward an intricate new prayer running down Krusa’s bulky shoulder. “ Er eitthvae ae grafa ?”

Is there anything to dig , it meant, a Nor -ka-esh phrase that essentially meant, what’s new ? And as usual, Krusa puffed out his broad chest, and launched into a grave-sounding list of various concerns, including everything from a new crack in the ceiling to a disappointing lack of biscuits at the refreshment table.

But Daisy’s attention had already begun to wander, her eyes drifting off toward the drummers, and beside her, Filak gave a light slap to her arse, and a brief kiss to her hair. “ Go see and draw, sólin mín ,” he murmured. “ Find you soon, ach?”

Daisy shot him a swift, grateful smile, because while she loved Filak’s commitment to all the facets of his new calling, she herself could still muster very little interest in managing tedious administrative tasks. A fact which Filak had never held against her, and instead he always encouraged her to live and work in her own way. To focus on drawing, and learning, and seeing.

So Daisy kissed Filak’s cheek goodbye, and then happily wandered off toward the party. Where she first chatted briefly with William and Soren , and then admired Geva’s beautiful new dress, and spent some time with a few of the Nor -ka-esh women, all of whom seemed far happier and healthier than before. And then she spoke with Jule for a while, too, and got a new update on Lew and Sybil , and the entire situation with Lord Nash .

But it was all still proceeding to plan, as well as they could have hoped. Lew had kept his word and shut down the entire project, and then he’d used his half of Daisy’s sálugjald to run off to Mirkandos , across the western sea — where, Jule informed Daisy with a roll of her eyes, he was apparently already writing a new book, and seeking to capitalize on his status as a foreign celebrity. As for Sybil , after learning of the project’s cancellation, she had instantly abandoned Kalfr and gone back north to Lord Nash , where she’d only been seen a few times since.

“Nash certainly isn’t pleased with her, or the outcome of this mess,” Jule said, with a grimace. “ But he hasn’t mentioned any of it in public, and we haven’t yet been able to learn what his next plans are, either. But ” — a dangerous glint flashed through her eyes — “we’re putting multiple measures in place, and we will find a way to crush that warmongering scum, don’t you worry.”

Daisy didn’t have any doubts about that whatsoever, and she smiled fondly back toward Jule , and thanked her for all her help. And then, once Jule had run off after her sons, Daisy drifted toward the nearby drummers, first listening to their propulsive thudding rhythms for a while, and then settling down to sketch them, too.

“Your music is wonderful,” she told one of them, a bulky handsome Ash - Kai whose name she vaguely recalled was Othan . “ Would you mind if I drew a close-up of your drum?”

Othan readily obliged, and he soon proved to be an excellent subject, with his easygoing patience and broad, dazzling grin. And once Daisy had finished multiple sketches of his drum, he bashfully rubbed the back of his neck, and glanced meaningfully down at her sketchbook.

“Do you ken you might put this in your next book about our mountain?” he asked shyly. “ I have read your first one a dozen times, I ken.”

Really? Daisy blinked, but then couldn’t help her own delighted grin back toward him. Her new book had only been published a few months before, but The Spectacular Sights and Secrets of the Orcish Underworld had already proven to be a surprising success, both in and out of Orc Mountain . Everyone in the mountain had wanted to read it, especially if they or their friends were included, and — as Rosa had repeatedly predicted — many humans outside the mountain had shown themselves to be desperately curious about what scandalous secrets the orcs might be hiding.

Of course, many of those secrets had been not-so-scandalous caves and mushrooms and flowers, but Daisy had done her best to include compelling scenes and sights from all around the mountain, and from the Skyli , too. The forges, the cathedral, the schoolroom and cisterns and waterfalls — along with plenty of orcs of all ages, enjoying a variety of typical orcish activities. And while she hadn’t included anything too suggestive, she’d also slipped in a few hints here and there — the spattering of Filak’s seed across the mushroom garden, his clawed hand digging possessively into something soft, a detailed depiction of some of his most intriguing marks. And of course, she’d drawn him in all his naked glory for Rosa’s orc anatomy book, which they’d promoted as a companion to her own — and which had also seen record sales, much to Rosa’s delight.

“I’m so glad you liked my book,” Daisy belatedly told Othan , with another grateful smile. “ And yes, I’ve been working on a sequel. I’m not sure what I’ll include yet, but right now I’m gathering as much as I can, so thank you for your help.”

Othan’s smile beamed even brighter, his eyes shining hopefully on hers, and after an instant’s considering it — and a quick request for permission — Daisy began drawing a close portrait of his smiling face, too. He really was an excessively striking orc, one that her readers would likely enjoy seeing, and…

“Oh good gods,” came an exasperated voice from beside them — Kesst’s voice — and without warning, he snatched Daisy’s pencil from her fingers, and jabbed it toward Othan’s face. “ Do you have a death wish, brother? Have you met her mate?”

Daisy shot a surprised glance upwards, and then followed Kesst’s eyes toward — oh. Filak , frowning across the room toward them, with a vicious deadly glint in his eyes. And though Daisy gave him a cheerful wave, his expression didn’t change, now glowering dangerously toward Othan’s handsome face.

Daisy chuckled and fondly shook her head, because while Filak had grown more tolerant of her drawing most orcs — even Kesst and Efterar — he still highly mistrusted orcs he didn’t know well, and especially handsome ones without mates. Even so, Daisy knew Filak was unlikely to actually do anything about it — except delightfully punish her in the dyflissa , perhaps — but Othan kept eyeing him with deep trepidation, and then darted Kesst a grateful look.

“Ach, brother, I have no wish to have my bollocks crushed,” he told Kesst under his breath, before tucking his drum under his arm, and leaping to his feet. “ Wait , but” — he hesitated, glanced back toward Daisy — “if you do include me, sister, shall you sign it for me?”

Daisy smiled and nodded, while Kesst rolled his eyes, and shooed Othan away. “ Typical vain Ash - Kai ,” he told Daisy , with a twist of a smile toward her. “ But really, if you do want to include some of us” — his eyes twinkled — “you will pick me and Eft , won’t you? Maybe we could try a few more poses?”

Daisy half-laughed, half-groaned, about to remind Kesst that she’d given him a half-dozen new portraits this year, including a detailed, full-colour illustration of him and Efterar together in the baths, with Kesst worshipfully kissing at his mate’s massive cock. But Kesst’s eyes had suddenly narrowed on something behind her, his lip sharply curling. “ What the…” he said, under his breath. “ What the hell is he doing here?”

Daisy twisted around to look, and found herself blinking at a tall, unfamiliar orc, striding gracefully into the room. He was startlingly handsome, with his long black hair and pale grey eyes, but his expression was cold and disdainful, and he didn’t spare a single glance toward anyone in the room. Instead , he seemed fully focused on stalking straight ahead, aiming toward — Daisy followed his gaze — toward Julian ?

Julian had been standing not far from the drums, talking to Tristan and Salvi , and he looked particularly handsome tonight, wearing a white tunic that contrasted beautifully with his grey skin. But now his eyes had snapped up toward the new orc too, holding on his face with strange, sudden intensity.

“ Rurik ?” Julian gasped, his voice barely audible — and oh, gods, of course this orc was Rurik . And Julian’s hands were visibly trembling now, his face flushing, his eyes shimmering with something between hope and longing and terror as Rurik swept to a halt before him.

“Julian of Clan Ka -esh,” Rurik said, with a brief, fluid bow. “ Shall you hear an offer from me?”

The conversations around them had begun to quiet, enough that Daisy could hear Julian’s deep, ragged inhale. And though his mouth opened, nothing came out, and finally he jerked a short, shaky nod.

Rurik nodded too, and his cold expression shifted, into something Daisy couldn’t read. “ I cannot offer you a fortune, nor my favour, nor my fidelity,” he told Julian , his low voice carrying through the room. “ Nor shall you have any freedom to sway what I must next do. But should you yet wish for me” — his eyes shimmered on Julian’s — “ I yet wish to have you by my side. I will yet grant you my care, and my pleasure, and my safety. I shall make you mine , for as long as I live.”