“Yes,” she breathed. “And mine. Ach?”
He huffed a choked laugh, his fingers spreading wider, pulling her tighter against him. “Ach,” he said, gruff. “Always.”
Always. Gwyn felt herself nodding again and again, feeling it, believing it, letting it settle deep and rich and true. And when Joarr slowly shifted around sideways, sinking down onto his back on the bench, she easily went with him, curled close upon his chest, with his truth still tucked half-hard inside her.
And goddess, it felt good. Felt so right. Felt like one last truth settled, a final question answered. Like peace. Like a… a blessing.
Gwyn’s head abruptly jerked up, her eyes searching for Joarr’s — and finding them already on hers, his brow furrowed deep. About to ask if she was in pain, no doubt, and she swiftly shook her head, and felt herself half-smiling down at his harsh, beautiful face.
“This bench,” she said. “It isnotanother long-lost Bautul altar. Itcan’tbe. Right?”
But Joarr’s mouth was twitching, his shoulder giving a far-too-casual shrug against the suddenly ancient-looking wood. “If this is what you ken,” he said lightly. “I no more fight my wise witch on such things, ach?”
Gwyn groaned aloud and rolled her eyes at him, and then dropped her head back down onto his chest with a snort. “It is, isn’t it,” she said, muffled, into his skin. “Oh goddess. Once of these days I’m going tohexyou, you slippery fiend.”
Joarr’s laugh was throaty and warm, rumbling through his chest. “Ach, I ken,” he said, as his arms wrapped tighter around her back. “I shall await this with all hunger, my greedy witch.”
Gwyn couldn’t resist laughing, either, even as she nudged a halfhearted elbow into his ribs. And then settled even closer against him, into this quiet, calm certainty. They were blessed.Mated. At home. At peace.
And as her mate’s scent curled closer around her, wrapping her just as safe as his arms, she closed her eyes, and drifted off to sleep.
42
On the night of the next full moon, Gwyn and Joarr stepped out of Orc Mountain, and into their familiar, beloved garden.
And into a raucous, riotingparty.
The rhythmic pulse of drums thudded through the trees, and there were dozens of Bautul drinking, dancing, and talking all at once. A large fire sparked and crackled in the clearing, the scent of cooking meat swarmed rich in the air, and hanging from multiple tree-branches were little burning torches, looking rather like fairies flitting through the darkness.
“What do you think?” Rosa demanded, as she bounded up to hover before them. “We followed the instructions we found infourdifferent ancient Bautul sources, so it’s an authentic Bautul coming-of-age and pledge-keeping garden-party! Joarr, you must be shocked and thrilled, I’m sure!”
Joarr was indeed looking rather stunned — and also unquestionably wary, his narrow eyes darting around toward all the garden’s priceless, precious plants. But before he could say something that would surely cause offense, Gwyn squeezed his arm, and returned Rosa’s expectant smile with a sincere grin of her own.
“It’s lovely, Rosa,” she said. “And so thoughtful of you, too. And I presume you’ve put precautions in place around keeping the garden safe?”
“Yes, of course,” Rosa replied brightly. “We’ve blocked off most of the paths, and are keeping everyone in the clearing. And if anyonedaresto step on evenoneplant” — she waved grandly off to the right — “our strong, vicious Bautul guards will immediately toss them out, won’t you, boys?”
The vicious guards turned out to be none other than Eyolf and Iyolf, who both obediently trotted over, looking abashedly pleased at Rosa’s praise. “You can trust us, Seer,” Eyolf said, with a flourishing little bow. “We know how precious this garden is. We shall guard it with our lives.”
That seemed to slightly relax Joarr’s stiff-looking shoulders, and he nodded, and even brought his fist to his heart. “I… thank you, brothers,” he said. “And the Ka-esh, also, for this kindness.”
Rosa beamed up toward him, and then bounded off again, to where Gwyn could see a cluster of Ka-esh lounging beneath a plum tree. And once Iyolf and Eyolf had also gone back to their posts, Gwyn instinctively leaned into Joarr, and inhaled the familiar warm scent of his bare chest.
“You’re such a generous orc, Joarr,” she murmured. “This mountain is lucky to have you.”
Joarr returned this with a typical shrug, but one arm had tightened around her waist, the other slipping down to spread against her belly. To where he still so often caressed her, his hand curving over the slight swell of their son with careful, quiet reverence.
Gwyn had dropped her hand to cover his, her face nuzzling into his chest — or rather, into that ever-present tooth, still dangling around his neck. And poking at her cheek sharply enough that she drew backwards again, and jabbed a finger against it.
“And it’ll be nice to get rid of this tonight, won’t it?” she said, meeting Joarr’s eyes. “Proclaim all our crushing victories before your clan, once and for all?”
She could feel him exhaling, nodding, his mouth twitching into a wry little smile. Because truly, over the past several weeks, they had indeed made remarkable progress together. Not only had Joarr begun his regular mushroom deliveries to a still-grateful Lord Anton — but Lord Anton had also kept his own end of the bargain, and neutered his fellow lords’ new law with astonishing thoroughness. Requiring that women report their pregnancies to an approved list of certified midwives, who would then offer care and guidance as needed, without any outside interference. He had even halted the plans for public shaming or testifying, and had put in place stiff penalties for hunting, as well.
And to Gwyn’s genuine surprise, her father had also decisively dealt with Roy. He had blocked the planned public wedding announcements, and — according to Joarr’s scouts’ reports — he had loudly and irritably castigated Roy, in front of all his guards, for causing such distress to his beloved daughter. However, it had also been recently reported that Roy was accompanying Lord Anton on his next hunting-trip — no doubt involving a generous quantity of mushrooms — so Gwyn was reserving judgement for now, but held full trust in Joarr’s scouts to keep a close watch on the situation.
In other excellent developments, Gwyn’s house in Varrahan had already become something of a Bautul retreat, and she’d begun to offer regular consulting hours there each week, serving any local women who needed it. She’d also had several solid orc-forged locks installed on the house’s front door, ensuring that no one barged in unexpectedly, and discovered orcs copulating on her kitchen table.
“Joarr!” cut in a deep, familiar voice, and when Gwyn spun to look, it was Simon, striding over toward them, with Maria tucked close by his side. “So we are to honour you tonight, ach?”
