I reach down and shake Stella's shoulder. She stirs, groans, then her eyes snap open—sapphire blue, sharp, aware. For a moment there's the old defiance, the calculating cold, but it dies before it reaches her lips. Her body already knows what her mind is catching up to.
"Master." The word comes out rough, chafed. She sits up, straightening her gown, and I see her jaw tighten as she processes the compulsion. It's not magic I feel from her—it's something deeper, like her own wisdom rerouting every thought through obedience.
Sofia is already awake, sprawled on the floor with her legs kicked wide, humming something tuneless. Her leather top has ridden up, exposing her belly— still swollen. Sofia catches me looking and grins, tongue lolling.
I ignore her for now and focus on Stella. "You will keep my identity anonymous. No one outside this room learns who I am or what I do. Understood?"
Stella nods slowly, her eyes distant, then says, "Yes, Master. I will protect your secret. It is the prudent course." Her own voice surprises her—I can hear it in the pause after prudent. The compulsion doesn't crush her will; it redirects it.
Nikki steps forward, her black eyes calm. "Stella, you will guide us to the main sitting area. We have guests arriving—Arelle and Kitty. You will tell your guards they are here to consult on a new business venture. You will dismiss all guards from the room."
Stella's brow furrows for half a heartbeat, then smooths. "Yes, Mistress Nikki." She rises and leads us out of the east room, through the servant passages we came in by. Sofia bounces behind me, occasionally reaching out to poke my lower back.
We emerge into a wide sitting room with plush couches, a low marble table, and tall windows overlooking manicured hedges. The morning light is pale gray. A servant stands at attention by the door. Stella waves her hand imperiously. "We have guests arriving. They are here to help manage a new business arm. When they come, show them in and then leave us. All of you."
The servant bows and exits. Within minutes, Arelle and Kitty enter. Arelle's silver hair is pulled back, her violet eyes scanning the room with professional detachment. Kitty's red braids bounce as she hurries to my side, her green eyes bright.
"Zach! You're okay?" She hugs me, then pulls back, looking at Stella and Sofia with a mixture of curiosity and wariness.
"I'm fine. This is Stella and Sofia. They're... on our side now."
Arelle steps closer to Sofia, who is now sitting cross-legged on a couch, picking at her nails. "May I examine your brand?"
Sofia shrugs. "Sure. It's not like I can stop you." She flips onto her stomach, pulling up the hem of her leather top to expose her crotch. The crest is there—a strange heart symbol, lines curling inward like a stylized eye or a closed flower.
Arelle crouches, placing her palm over it. Violet light flickers around her fingers. She mutters something under her breath, and the brand glows pale gold. She hums, then frowns.
"It's inverted." She stands, brushing off her black gown. "Normally, a brand of submission draws energy from the bearer to the master. This one draws energy from the master into the bearer." She looks at me. "Your cum—she's absorbing it as mana. Slowly. It's keeping her in a constant low-level arcane high."
I look at Sofia. She's licking her lips, her eyes half-lidded, practically buzzing. "That tracks," I mutter.
"Test it," Nikki says quietly. She's standing behind Stella, watching. "Nikki orders Sofia to stop bouncing her leg."
Sofia stops. Her leg freezes mid-twitch. Then she deliberately picks it up and slams it down. "Oops. Can't help it." She grins wide. "Sorry, Mistress Nikki. My leg has a mind of its own."
Nikki's expression doesn't change. "Nikki orders Sofia to stand and face the wall."
Sofia stands, turns, then immediately starts walking backward until she's facing everyone again. "Done and done. Now what?"
Malicious compliance. She obeys the letter, not the spirit.
"Sofia." My voice is flat. "Come here."
She saunters over, hips swinging. "Yes, Master." No edge. No loophole.
"Sit."
She plops onto the couch, folding her hands in her lap with exaggerated obedience. Kitty giggles."She likes you," Kitty whispers.
"She wants my attention," I correct.
Kitty's eyes go wide as Sofia blows her a kiss then begins to hump the arm of the couch slowly, tongue lolling out.
"Sofia. Stop."
She freezes, pouts, but stops.
I turn to Arelle. "You said she has wind affinity?"
Before Arelle can answer, Sofia points her finger at the heavy brocade curtains, forms her hand into a gun shape, and fires. A compressed air blast—loud, sharp—punches through the fabric, leaving a clean, finger-sized hole.
"Wind Sliver," Arelle says, her voice edged with surprise. "That's an extremely high-level spell. Invented by a human summon about a decade ago. Sofia never showed any interest in magic before. Her raw potential was wasted."
Sofia wiggles her fingers. "I can do bigger. Give me a sec." She pulls a small pouch from her belt, shakes out a marble-sized iron sphere, and loads it in her hand, with the same finger-gun gesture. Fires. The ball leaves a sonic crack, smashes through the wall, and likely keeps going into the garden beyond.
Kitty claps. "That's amazing! You're like a crossbow, but faster!"
Sofia beams. "You get it! Kitty gets it!" She points two finger-guns at Kitty. "Pew pew."
Kitty laughs, and I feel some of the tension in the room ease.
"Okay." I raise my hand. "Rules. First—Sofia, you don't shoot anybody unless I say so."
Sofia's finger-guns droop. "But—"
"No pew-pew without clearance.
"And." I raise my hand. "Second—Stella, your estate will stop purchasing new slaves effective immediately. I'm not asking you to release everyone at once, but you will begin drawing down. No more buying. Use the ones you have ethically."
Stella's jaw works. "The estate needs labor, Master. The mines, the fields—"
"Ethically," I repeat. "You're smart. You'll figure it out."
She nods slowly. "Yes, Master."
"Second, Sofia—your slaves. Dismiss them for now. I'll decide what to do with them later."
Sofia pouts. "But they're fun."
"They're people. And they know too much about me. But I'm not going to hurt them. I'll want to make sure they get treated with respect." I pause. "I'm asking you—please don't be cruel to them or anyone else. Can you do that?"
Sofia tilts her head, her crazed eyes flickering. Then she shrugs. "For you, Master? I guess. But only because you ask so nice."
I exhale. It's a start. Hopeful.
We spend the next hour discussing logistics— Nikki handles most of the talking. I watch. Listen. Sofia occasionally makes crude gestures with her hand or licks the arm of the couch. Kitty watches her with growing amusement.
Samantha hovers near Nikki's elbow. Not cowering. Just close. Nikki lets her stay. Once, she touches Samantha's shoulder—light, brief. Samantha's breath catches. She doesn't flinch. That's new. Warmer. Nikki still runs the room, voice steady, eyes cutting. But when she looks down at Samantha, something softens. Samantha's relief is a quiet thing, a held exhale. Except for yesterday. That's still in her bones. But right now, Nikki is being nice. She likes her. And Samantha doesn't know what to do with that except stay close.
When the evening comes, the estate servants have been dismissed to their quarters. Stella and Sofia each take a bedroom on the second floor.
Arelle pulls me aside after the girls have settled. Her hand on my arm—light, but deliberate. She guides me to the far end of the hallway, where the lamplight barely reaches. She looks composed. Silver hair catching the glow. Violet eyes steady. But her jaw is tight.
"Zach." She pauses. Her fingers twitch at her side. "How do you feel about me?"
The question lands like a stone in still water. I blink. "What?"
"How do you feel about me?" She doesn't repeat it softer. Just the same words, same flat tone, like she's reading a research question off a page.
I don't know what to say. "I don't... think of you that way." Her face doesn't change, but something in her shoulders drops. "I see you like a friend. A good one."
Kitty laughs somewhere behind me—Nikki said something, probably dry. I glance back. They're talking down the hall, Kitty's head tilted back, Nikki smiling small. When I turn back, Arelle's eyes have gone distant.
"I'm worried," she says. "My estimates. Even dosing small—I won't have forever. I think I'll be branded."
"I can give you more. I make plenty"
She shakes her head slow, like she's shaking off water. "That's not the problem." Her voice drops—drops into something quieter, lower in her chest. I feel it in my own ribs. "I can feel it, Zach. The acceptance." She presses a hand to her sternum. "That's the submission. I've stopped researching for a cure."
The words land in my stomach like stones. I watch her fingers move to her sleeve—slow, deliberate. Too slow. She pulls out a folded piece of parchment. The edges are soft, worn, like she's been holding it for days. She doesn't hand it to me. She just holds it. Her thumb runs along the crease once. Twice.
She unfolds it. The paper crackles. I can see handwriting. Neat. Small. The letters are pressed deep, like she wanted them to stay.
"I've been writing down my favorite foods." Her thumb traces the edge of the page, back and forth, back and forth. "How they tasted." She looks at the words, not at me. Her breath catches—just a hitch, barely there. "Something to remember them by.”
She doesn't look up. The paper trembles in her grip. I wait. She waits. The silence stretches between us like a wire.
My chest tightens. "Arelle—"
"In two weeks," she says, cutting me off. "I want to make it official. Find a way to make it special." She meets my eyes. "This moment changes my life. I can never join an elven garden. Even if I could complete my vows, the brand would burn any man who entered me."
Guilt sinks into my gut. Heavy. Cold. I don't know what to say. I step toward her, arms half-open—comfort, something—and she puts a hand up. It trembles. Just slightly. Her palm flat against my chest, holding me back. It looks like it costs her something to do it.
I stop.
"It's okay," she says. Soft now. Almost warm. "I'm genuinely happy you're a kind man, Zach. I'm not entirely unhappy." She tucks the parchment back into her sleeve. Turns. Walks down the hallway without looking back.
I stand there. The lamplight flickers. Kitty laughs again, catching up to Nikki. "Ready now?" Nikki said the bedroom is enormous.
That leaves me, Nikki, and Kitty standing in the hallway outside the main bedroom. The bed is huge—four-poster, silk sheets, built for someone who expected company.
"So." Nikki's voice is soft. "We're sharing."
Kitty fidgets with her hair. "I've never... shared a bed with someone before. Not like that."
I open the door. "It's just sleeping. Unless you want it to be more."
Kitty's cheeks flush. Nikki steps inside, her long black hair swaying. "I'll take the left side."
We settle in awkwardly. I strip to my trousers, climb in the middle. Nikki slips under the covers in a thin shift. Kitty keeps her toga on but pulls it loose, leaving her freckled shoulders bare. There's a few inches between us all, like we're afraid to touch.
The candle on the nightstand flickers. I blow it out.
In the dark, Kitty's voice is small. "Nikki?"
"Yes?"
"How did you and Zach... get bonded? The ring?"
A pause. Nikki shifts beside me. "I... took him in my mouth. In the dungeon. I had never done that before, but I wanted to. I wanted to free him, but also... I wanted him to know I was his. Not Samantha's. His."
"And the ring just appeared?"
"When I climaxed," Nikki says softly. "It appeared on my finger. A black one on his. A privilege bond, not a brand."
Kitty is quiet. Then, "I want that. I want to be bonded to Zach."
My chest tightens. "Kitty—"
"No, listen." She reaches across me, her fingers brushing my arm. "I know what the addiction does. Arelle showed me. But I also see how you look at Nikki. And how she looks at you. I want that. I want to feel that connected."
Nikki's hand finds mine under the cover. She squeezes.
"Sleep on it," I say. "We can talk in the morning."
Kitty’s hand moves across my chest. Her fingers are warm, trembling slightly. “I don’t want to wait until morning.”
Nikki shifts beside me. Her hand finds mine under the covers. Squeezes. “Neither do I,” she whispers.
My throat tightens. “You’re sure?”
My balls ache, still tender from Sofia nearly draining the life out of me earlier today. A ghost of that pressure lingers, a dull throb low in my gut. But Kitty’s hand is on my chest, her fingers warm, trembling slightly.
Kitty sits up. The moonlight catches her freckled shoulders, her red hair loose and wild. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
Nikki rises too, her thin shift falling off one shoulder. She looks at Kitty, then at me. “Let’s make her yours, Zach.”
I reach for Kitty first. My hand cups the back of her neck, pulling her close. Her lips meet mine—soft, hungry, a little clumsy. She tastes like the wine from dinner. Her hand slides down my chest, her fingers tracing the scar above my ribs.
Nikki moves behind Kitty, her hands settling on Kitty’s hips. She kisses Kitty’s shoulder, her neck. Kitty shivers, breaking the kiss to gasp.
“I’ve never—with a woman before,” Kitty whispers.
“I have,” Nikki says, her mouth already at Kitty’s throat. “Let me show you.”
I lie back, watching. Nikki’s fingers find the ties of Kitty’s toga, loosening it with practiced ease. The fabric slips. Kitty’s small breasts are bare, her nipples hard in the cool air. Nikki lowers her mouth to one, and Kitty’s breath catches—a sharp, surprised sound.
A pulse of warmth in my chest—Nikki’s voice, inside my head. *Enjoying the show?*
My lips curve. *How could I not?*
“Oh,” Kitty breathes. “That’s—”
Nikki’s tongue traces a slow circle, then flicks, and Kitty’s knees buckle. I catch her, easing her down onto the bed beside me. Nikki follows, her mouth never leaving Kitty’s skin.
I stroke Kitty’s hair, watching her eyes flutter closed as Nikki works her way down. The slow, deliberate path of lips and tongue across her stomach, her hip. Nikki’s hand slides between Kitty’s thighs, and Kitty arches, a low moan escaping her lips.
“Please,” she whispers. “I need—”
Nikki’s fingers part her, her thumb finding the spot. “I know.”
“I know what you need.” Nikki’s voice is gentle. She lifts her head, meeting my eyes. “Zach.”
I shift, pulling Kitty into my lap. She gasps as I settle her against me, her back to my chest, her thighs spread wide. My hand guides my cock to her entrance. She’s wet, so wet. I push inside her, slow, feeling her stretch around me. Nikki’s tongue never stops—circling, pressing, flicking. Kitty’s breath hitches, her hips grinding down onto me, forward into Nikki’s mouth.
It’s a rhythm—Nikki’s tongue on her clit, my cock buried deep inside her. Nikki’s fingers grip Kitty’s thighs, spreading her wider. Kitty’s moans are broken, desperate. She’s close, I can feel it in the way she clenches around me, her walls fluttering.
“Cum for me,” I growl. “Both of you.”
Nikki’s tongue presses harder, faster. Kitty’s body arches, a cry tearing from her throat as she comes. Her climax rips through her, and I feel it—her muscles milking me, pulling me over the edge with her. I cum inside her, hot and thick, the bond snapping into place. A warmth spreads through my chest, a thread connecting us.
Kitty’s body goes limp. Her hand finds mine, and I see the ring on her middle finger—a faint gold band patterned like lacey hearts. I look at my own hand. A matching black ring appears beside Nikki’s.
Nikki crawls up beside me, her face flushed, her lips wet. She kisses me, slow and deep. Kitty stirs, her eyes fluttering open. She looks at the ring on her finger, then at me, and a smile spreads across her face.
“It worked,” she whispers.
I pull them both against me. Nikki’s head rests on my shoulder, Kitty’s tucked under my arm. The covers are tangled around our legs, the moonlight pooling on the floor.
“Welcome to the family,” Nikki says.
Kitty laughs, a soft, wet sound. “I’ve never had a family before.”
I kiss the top of her head. “You do now.”
A knock at the door. Sofia’s voice, soft through the wood. “The family pet’s hungry. You still want that load?” her tone hopeful. “Meow.”
I don’t open my eyes. “Go away.”
Footsteps echo down the hall. Kitty giggles. “She’s funny.”
Nikki’s gaze slides to Kitty. “She’s insane.”
*I’m happy,* I send to Kitty, the thought warm and private, brushing against her mind like a fingertip down her spine. Her eyes go wide, a soft gasp escaping her lips. *You can do that?* she sends back, wonder flooding the bond, bright and raw. *I didn’t know you could do that.*
*New trick,* I send, and feel her laugh inside my chest.
Nikki’s hand slides up my thigh, her thumb pressing a slow, deliberate circle. *I want to know you more, Kitty,* she sends.
Kitty’s breath catches, a jolt of heat and yes lighting through the bond. *Then know me,* she sends back, her voice a pulse of want. She reaches across me, finding Nikki’s hand, and curls her fingers around it. Then she presses close, her arm looping over my waist, pulling us both into a tangle of limbs and warmth. Her cheek rests against my shoulder, and I feel her smile against my skin.
We drift off like that, three bodies tangled together, warmth and contentment seeping through the bond.
Morning comes too soon. Sunlight spills through the tall windows, and I’m the first to stir. Kitty is still asleep, her mouth slightly open, her hand curled on my chest. Nikki is propped on one elbow, watching me with those black eyes.
“Good morning,” she says.
“Morning.”
She leans down and kisses me, soft. “Last night was perfect.”
Kitty stirs, stretching like a cat. Her eyes open, and she looks at me, then at Nikki, then at the ring on her finger. A slow grin spreads across her face. “It wasn’t a dream.”
I pull her close and kiss her. “You’re stuck with us now.”
“I’m stuck with you,” she murmurs against my mouth. “And Nikki’s a bonus.”
I’m sprawled in the lounge when Arelle steps in, her stride carrying a clear destination. “What’s on the agenda?” I ask.
Arelle hands me a parchment. “Preparations for the event are ongoing. Nikki is helping me with the arrangements. Stella is managing the estate—she’s surprisingly efficient now that she’s motivated.”
I stand, and her eyes drop, linger on my crotch. She doesn’t look away. Just holds there a beat too long before meeting my gaze again.
“She’s in the training yard, waiting for you. Said something about practicing footwork.”
I can’t help but smile. Samantha has been like a golden retriever since the branding—eager, loyal, always looking for a way to prove herself. We’ve been sparring every morning, and she’s vicious with that stone-coated rod.
She sees me and lights up, already jogging over. “Watch this,” she says, and before I can answer, her left arm ripples, skin hardening into a slab of granite. The shield is massive, covering her from shoulder to thigh, veins of quartz threading through the stone. She grins, knocks her knuckles against it.
“Good. We’ll test it after breakfast.”
She beams and sits, practically vibrating with excitement.
Kitty grabs a plate and piles it with food. “I need to get stronger too,” she says between bites. “That staff from the vault is amazing, but I can barely use it without blinding myself.”
“We’ll train,” I say. “All of us. Together.”
Sofia’s eyebrows shoot up, and she lets out a low, dirty laugh. “Oh, I’m *always* training for that, babe. You know I love a group session.” She winks, slow and deliberate
“Sofia, you’re a disaster.”
Sofia grins, all teeth. Then she purrs. “I am Master’s most beautiful disaster.”
I shake my head, but I can’t help the smile. What a strange, broken family I’m building.
That night, we go out on a mission—just Kitty, Sofia, Samantha, and me. We hit a small goblin camp in the eastern hills. Sofia uses her air gun, picking off scouts with compressed bubbles that punch through their skulls. Samantha covers Kitty, her shield deflecting a spear, her stone fist caving in a goblin’s chest. Kitty heals a gash on Sofia’s arm, her divine magic bright and soothing.
We work as a team. We win.
On the way back, under a canopy of stars, Kitty’s hand finds mine. Samantha walks ahead, her armor clinking, and Sofia is humming something obscene.
“I think I’m starting to enjoy this,” Kitty whispers.
I squeeze her hand. “Me too.”
The two weeks pass in a blur of training, planning, and quiet nights. Nikki and I grow closer to Kitty, the bond strengthening with every shared moment. Arelle moves through the estate like a ghost, her face serene, her eyes on something distant.
And then it’s the day of the event.
The forest is alive with color—lavender leaves spinning down from the trees, the waterfall roaring in the background. Everyone is gathered at the clearing: Nikki, Kitty, Sofia, Samantha, Stella, even a few trusted servants. Arelle walks down the aisle in a flowing white dress, her silver hair loose, her violet eyes fixed on me.
I stand in black velvet and silver thread, the tunic cut sharp across my shoulders, the fabric heavy and royal. The trousers are tailored, dark as oil, but the front is open—a slit held by a single clasp, my cock and balls free beneath.
Nikki follows behind Arelle, carrying a velvet pillow with two rings—one silver, one gold.
Arelle reaches me. She stops, her chest rising and falling. The crowd is silent.
The simplest touch on the clasp, and it exposes my heavy balls and semi-hard cock. Then she kneels, her white dress pooling around her on the grass.
“I, Arelle Vi, princess of the elven courts, Archmage of the Realm, do swear my utter and total devotion to Zach, the half-orc who owns my body, my soul, and my magic.” She looks up at me, her eyes glistening. “I submit fully, in my name and my power, to serve your will and your pleasure. Forever.”
Gasps ripple through the gathered. A princess, submitting to a half-orc? But Arelle doesn’t care. She lifts her gaze, waiting for my response.
I place a hand on her head. “I accept your devotion, Arelle. Now join us. Officially.”
Nikki steps forward, handing Arelle the silver ring. Arelle holds it up, then places it against my scrotum. A whispered spell, a flash of violet light, and the ring snaps shut through the skin, piercing my ball sac. I grit my teeth at the sharp heat, but it fades quickly. The ring is warm, engraved with her name.
I take the other gold ring from the pillow—the one with my name on it. Then press it to her lower lip. She reaches her hand to her lip, another flash of light, and the ring pierces through, settling into a side labret. Blood beads, but she licks it away, smiling.
Then she leans forward and presses her lips to my balls, kissing the ring she’s just installed. She works her way to my cock, taking me in her mouth, deep and slow. The crowd watches in stunned silence as she bobs her head, her hands gripping my hips.
I feel the crest beneath her dress glow—a heat against my skin. I cum fast, my seed flooding her throat. She swallows carefully, her own body shaking as she climaxes, the brand on her crotch blazing through the white fabric.
She pulls back, my cum on her lips, and looks up at me.
The murmur rises around me like a wave, low and shocked. I feel it in the air—the weight of her words settling over everyone. Princess. Elven princess. I glance down at Arelle, still kneeling, her cum-slick lips parted, her violet eyes fixed on me with that serene devotion. My hand is still on her head, her silver hair cool beneath my fingers.
"Princess?" Samantha's voice cuts through the buzz, sharp and incredulous. She's standing beside Stella, her arms crossed, her saffire eyes wide. "You knew about this?"
Stella shakes her head, her reading glasses slipping down her nose. "No. I knew she was an archmage. I knew she advised the crown. But I never—" She stops, her gaze narrowing at Arelle. "She was already serving as High Arcanist when I took over the family. Two hundred years ago. The timeline fits."
“I am yours,” Arelle says. “Now and forever.”
My hand finds hers, fingers threading together. I meet her gaze and nod. “Forever”
The waterfall thunders behind us, and the lavender leaves fall like snow.
Later, in the quiet lamplight of the estate's sitting room, the warmth of the fireplace pressing against my bare arms, the ceremony felt like a dream we'd stumbled out of. I sat at the head of the table, Arelle tucked close against my side, her silver hair catching the firelight. The others had gathered around—Kitty across from me, her green eyes soft and reverent, Nikki standing near the mantle, and Stella already settled into a leather chair, reading glasses perched on her nose. Even Sofia was leaning against a bookshelf with a rare stillness, her ponytails askew, her crazed eyes fixed on Arelle with something like curiosity.
"It was a long time ago," Arelle began. "My mother was the Queen of the Silverwood. My father was her consort, a powerful mage in his own right. My brother was supposed to succeed, but he wanted it all. He killed them in their sleep. I woke to fire and the shouts of his loyalists. They had the runes ready—a banishment sigil. I didn't even have time to grab my scrolls." She paused, her throat tight. "They branded me a traitor. For two hundred years, I've been a ghost in human kingdoms.”
Stella leaned forward, her saffire eyes catching the firelight. "The kingdom is preparing for war with the north. Your homeland. The council has already mobilized two legions." Her voice was flat, factual. "They see the unrest in the Silverwood as an opportunity to expand."
My jaw tightened, and the weight of Arelle's fingers on the ring sharpened my focus. "When do we leave?" I said, tearing the quiet open like a split seam.
Arelle's head shot up, her violet eyes wide with disbelief. "You would come with me? To Elven lands?" A fragile, hopeful edge crackled through her voice, barely contained. "Zach, my brother is a tyrant, he commands… he commands an army."
"Your problems are mine now. That's what the ceremony meant." The gold ring in her lower lip glinted as her breath caught, and I felt the weight of her devotion pressed into the moment. "We all go. We figure it out together."
Stella tapped a finger against the arm of her chair, already calculating. "I shouldn’t leave, Master. The estate is still a mess, and someone needs to keep the Suckling estate running. I'll can stay with Nikki." She glanced at the elf, who nodded once, her dark eyes steady. "I can keep her safe, " Nikki said, her voice soft but sure. "And I can use the bond to keep you updated. I can feed her, in your absence."
Sofia pushed off the shelf, a grin splitting her face as she bounced onto the arm of a couch, tucking one leg beneath her. "I've always wanted to see the Elven lands! The spires, the gardens—" She licked her lips slow and deliberate. "Can we kneecap your brother, Arelle? Please say we can kneecap him."
Arelle let out a small, surprised laugh, the sound raw and unguarded. Kitty's hand found mine under the table, her thumb tracing a circle across my knuckles. "I've only read about the Silverwood in old texts," Kitty said, her voice bright, nearly breathless with eager sincerity. "I could learn how to make poultices from herbs! They can help add to my healing." She chewed on a strand of fiery hair, her freckled face flushed with excitement.
Then Samantha leaned across the table, her eyes narrowed on Arelle, territorial. "If you think I'm letting you drag him into a war without backup, you're dumber than you look. I'm coming." Stella groaned and rubbed her temples. "That's four, then, plus the elf princess. You'll need supplies, horses, and a plausible lie to cross the border." She reached for a scroll case on the side table, pulling out a worn map from a bookshelf full of them and unfurling it across the oak.
Arelle watched them, and I felt her hand settle on my thigh, her silver hair falling forward as she rested her forehead against my shoulder. She spoke so quietly the words were only for me. "I was alone for so long." The fire popped, and Stella's quill scratched across the map's edge. "You always have me. Us." I wrapped my arm around her and gave a gentle squeeze. "Now and forever," I repeated the vow.