The Ugly Duckling Of The Tiger Tribe

Chapter 330: Thalor’s new role

I looked at the limestone beneath my feet, then back at him. I didn’t want him just as another pair of arms to hold me at night—not yet, and certainly not while Damar’s side of the furs still had his scent lingering on it.

Having him by my side, even when the one-week promise was over, felt like a betrayal.

Damar didn’t want to see Thalor taking a spot, and though it would happen eventually, I should not rush into it.

"I have a lot to accomplish," I continued, my voice gaining strength. "And instead of just trying to be one of my mates, waiting for a moment of my attention..."

I reached out, extending my hand toward him—not as a lover, but as a Queen offering a place in her ’revolutionary’ alms.

"You can be so much more," I said. "You can be one of the folks who helped me establish that future. You have the power of the water; you can probably feel the movements of the earth under our feet because even there, water resides, and you see things we cannot. Help me build this, Thalor. Be a part of the foundation of this kingdom."

Thalor stared at my outstretched hand as if it were made of glass. The desperate hunger in his expression shifted, turning into a solemn, heavy kind of awe.

He realized then that I wasn’t just giving him a chance to be with me; I was giving him a purpose that mattered as much as his song.

Slowly, almost reverently, he reached out. He didn’t grab my hand to pull me in; he simply let his cool fingers brush against mine—a silent, weightless acceptance of the pact.

"I will build your future, Arinya," he whispered, his voice vibrating with a new kind of grounded devotion, no longer just a frantic desperation for acceptance. "Whatever you need from the earth or the deep, it is yours."

It was as if knowing he could actually be of help, that he had a purpose beyond just following me like a shadow, was better than anything else I could have given him.

The tension in his shoulders seemed to ease as well, replaced by a focused, intense clarity.

I was just about to let out a little sigh of relief, thinking we finally had an understanding, when he suddenly lowered himself to his knees. Before I could even blink, he leaned down and did that thing he’d done back at the well.

He pressed a lingering, fervent kiss right to the top of my foot.

"Ugh! Thalor!" I yelped, nearly tripping as I tried to yank my leg back. "What are you doing? That is nasty!"

He looked up at me from the dirt, his expression perfectly serious, almost holy.

"It is a sign of fealty, Arinya. In the deep, we honor the anchor that holds us."

"Well, on land, we don’t kiss dirty feet!" I hissed, wiping my foot against the back of my other calf.

I had been trekking through mud, sawdust, and limestone dust all morning, all with bare feet. My skin was practically gray with grit.

"I’m not wearing any boots, Thalor. It’s icky."

He tilted his head, his violet eyes clouding with genuine confusion.

"What are... ’boots’?"

I stared at him for a bit. I looked at his bare, elegant feet, then at my own calloused, dusty toes. Right. He had been a fish this whole time, so there was no way he was familiar with what was worn on feet.

And gosh, this is still a primitive world.

Except for the boots I made for the four of us during winter, there’s been no real mention of shoes. No cobblers either. Heh, this was another thing to add to my never-ending to-do list.

"Forget it," I said, rubbing my temples as a headache started to bloom. "Just... don’t do that again. It’s gross. If you want to show respect, just listen to me when I tell you where the stone needs to go. Got it?"

Thalor stood back up, nodding with a solemnity that made me want to laugh and scream at the same time.

"I understand. I shall refrain from the ’icky’ traditions."

I almost laughed at his words, but cleared my throat.

"Good. Great." I turned back toward the ridge, trying to regain my professional composure. "Now, look at this stone. I’m looking for limestone—rock that’s white and crumbly but strong when we stack it. I want to build a palace that won’t rot like wood. Do you know where the best veins are? Can you... maybe feel them?"

Thalor walked to the very edge of the cliff, his gaze sweeping over the white teeth that stuck out of the mountain. He didn’t just look at the surface; his head tilted as if he were listening to a sound I couldn’t hear.

"The stone here is... strange," he murmured, crouching down and pressing his palm flat against the chalky earth. "I can feel it very well, as if it’s... alive."

Well, what do you know?

"And I can feel more of it. There are channels beneath us—old paths where water used to run toward the sea. Most of this ridge is hollow, like a dried bone."

My heart did a little leap, but not the romantic kind—the adventure excitement kind. This guy is going to be my limestone detector from now on.

"Hollow? You mean there are caves?"

"Many," he said, pointing to a spot further down the ridge where the stone looked more solid and gray. "If you build here, the weight of your ’palace’ might crush the ceiling of the world below. But there," he gestured to a massive, stubborn-looking shelf of rock, "the earth is solid all the way to its heart. That is the spine of this ridge. That is where your stone is purest."

I looked at him, then at the vast expanse of white rock. I needed this stone. I needed it to prove to the West Way that we could build something eternal.

And here was the one person who could literally ’hear’ the stability of the ground.

"Well," I said, a small, tired grin finally breaking through my lips. "I guess you’ve officially started your new job. Show me the ’spine,’ Architect. We have a lot of digging to do."