Chapter Seventy-Seven: Roads of Embarrassment
The forest stretched wide and silent around them, the road back to Ebon Hollow winding like a pale ribbon under the dim moonlight. Kael walked at the front, jaw tight, pretending to focus on the path ahead. In truth, he was still reeling, his ears burning from what he had overheard.
He'd fought horrors in the swamp, stood against a bandit horde, and endured the agonizing ritual that bound chaos itself to his soul. Yet this—this quiet conversation between two women—was enough to unmake him.
Behind him, their voices carried easily.
Druaka laughed, the sound rich and unrestrained. "So you admit it, then. He's not just a good fighter—he's a good lover too."
Lyria groaned audibly. "Druaka, must you be so… blunt?"
"Why not? These things matter. A mate should be strong in battle and in bed. That's how my people see it." Druaka's voice was proud, unashamed. "Besides, what's wrong with enjoying the thought of it? Life's too short to be shy."
Kael's steps hitched, his knuckles tightening around the hilt of his sword. He kept his gaze fixed forward, willing himself to ignore every word.
Lyria's tone sharpened. "It's not about boasting or comparing notes like some tavern maid's gossip. Intimacy is… personal. Sacred."
"Sacred?" Druaka chuckled again, this time softer. "Maybe to elves. To ogres, it's natural. A celebration of strength and life. Not something to be hidden away."
Lyria sighed, and Kael could almost feel her rubbing her temples behind him. "I'm not saying it should be hidden, only… respected."
"And I'm not saying it shouldn't be respected," Druaka countered easily. "But there's nothing wrong with being curious. Or bold. He's strong, handsome, and a leader. Of course I'd want to know what it's like to—"
Kael cleared his throat loudly, cutting her off before she finished. Both women fell silent.
The only sound was the crunch of boots on the dirt path and Umbra's soft padding beside him.
For a blissful moment, Kael thought the conversation was dead.
Then Druaka's mischievous voice floated forward. "He heard us."
Kael nearly stumbled again.
Lyria hissed, scandalized. "Druaka! You don't know that."
"Oh, I know." Druaka's laughter was low and smug. "Look at the way his shoulders stiffened. And the tips of his ears are red. He heard every word."
Kael finally spun on his heel, fixing them both with a glare. His face was betraying him, heat still flooding his skin. "Enough."
Druaka grinned wide, tusks catching the moonlight. "See? I told you."
Lyria covered her face with one hand, her cheeks nearly as flushed as Kael's. "You are insufferable."
Druaka only shrugged, still smiling. "Maybe. But at least I'm honest."
Kael turned back around, storming ahead without another word. He could hear Druaka's laughter behind him, and Lyria's exasperated scolding. And despite himself—despite the embarrassment clawing at his chest—he felt something he hadn't expected.
Warmth.
This was what life was supposed to be. Not war, not blood, not endless planning for survival. But laughter, banter, even embarrassment.
And though he would never admit it aloud, not yet—he was glad for it.