Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 919

Chapter 919: Chapter 919

He smiled. Tears in wives’ eyes. They extinguished torches and candles. The orchard glowed soft in moonlight, watchers pulsing faint beyond.

They released children to Grace and Sophie. Wives gathered blankets around the firepit and piled logs high. Heat rose. They ate flatcakes, drank tea, shared laughter and quiet words. No one mentioned watchers further; they had spoken, watchers listened.

Late night, Jude and Grace rose to lanterns by orchard. She touched the fig-glyph tree. "You think they’ll come closer next time?"

He laid hand on glyphs and ribbons. "Only if we invite. They’re cautious. They learned respect tonight."

She smiled. "We choose friendship."

He drew breath. "In morning, we walk with watchers. Into forest edge. We bring names and peace offerings."

She nodded, heart steady.

When they returned inside, Laurel and Raven slept peacefully. Watchers kept watch at the edge but did not intrude. They had their place now in this world, the watchers as named, not predators.

Dawn came like hymn. The orchard watchers stood faint in early brightness. Jude stepped outside, watched watchers’ shapes hang in air until sunshine broke through. He nodded and backed away. They remained.

He stepped barefoot across dew-damp earth to Grace. "We begin walking today."

She smiled. He kissed her. They returned to the awakening world.

The watchers would grow close, then stay still. The island would reverberate with names and song. Together they would hold these roots strong.

Today, friendship with watcher would bloom alongside orchard. A new Chapter.

And this home would carry memory to brightness, to unknown beyond.

The ground was warm by midday, sunlight settling over the orchard in languid golden patches. Jude moved slowly, still barefoot, feeling the heat seep through the soles of his feet as if the island itself breathed up into him. Behind him, Grace caught up, a slight bounce in her step and a bundle of fresh-cut fig leaves in her arms. She had tucked one behind her ear, and it fluttered slightly with each movement, a soft green whisper against the honey-brown strands of her hair.

They stopped beneath the fig-glyph tree and watched the orchard for a while. The watchers, faint and nearly invisible under the sun, shifted at the perimeter, gentle flickers like mirages in the heat. They hadn’t come closer, not yet, but they hadn’t vanished either. Their presence lingered, quiet and observant.

"They’re still there," Grace whispered.

Jude nodded. "It’s enough. They saw us yesterday. Today we don’t push. We walk where they can see us, but we don’t press further."

Grace leaned against him, her side warm against his, and he turned his face toward her hair, breathing in the scent of fig, earth, and the faintest trace of ash from last night’s fire.

"I dreamed about them," she murmured. "Not scary. Just... close. They stood beside us, not around. Like shadows that didn’t scare, but comforted."

He looked down at her, his lips brushing her temple. "Maybe your dream’s a step ahead of the island."

"Maybe," she said, and turned her face up to him. Her eyes caught the sun. "Or maybe I’m the dreamer now, Jude. Since you’ve become the grounded one."

He smiled at that and took her hand, fingers threading easily into hers. "Let’s walk."

They took the forest path, just the two of them this time, as the others gathered herbs, checked traps, tended to the orchard. The children stayed with Lucy and Emma, working on the morning’s food prep. Grace had insisted on this quiet walk, "for us," she’d said, her voice light but her gaze holding something deeper. Jude had understood without needing more words.

The forest was quiet, the way it often was in the heat. Cicadas whispered in waves, and birds called out lazily. They moved without urgency, following a gentle curve that led toward the stream Jude had once fished from, long before he had understood anything about this island or the watchers or even the women who now lived as his family.

When they reached the edge of the stream, Grace knelt and cupped water into her hands, letting it fall slowly back. Jude crouched beside her, his knees brushing hers, and watched her quietly.

She tilted her head, droplets on her lashes. "You used to come here when you were scared."

He blinked, surprised. "You remember that?"

"I saw you," she said, with a small smile. "Before we were a we. You always thought you were hiding. But you never were."

Jude watched the water ripple from her touch. "I used to think this place hated us. Or wanted to break us. That it was testing us."

"It was," she said, and leaned closer, her lips brushing his ear, her voice soft and low. "But not to destroy. Maybe to... sharpen us."

He turned toward her, his face close to hers now. "You think we passed?"

"I think," she whispered, "we are the test and the answer both."

Her kiss came slowly, drawn with intention, as if she were trying to memorize the shape of him all over again. He kissed her back, hands sliding into her hair, the soft leaf falling free. Her mouth opened to his, and he tasted water, heat, and the strange, bright sweetness of being chosen.

When they broke apart, she pressed her forehead to his, both of them breathing fast but calm. "There’s a clearing up ahead. Just past the bend."

"I remember," he said, hand moving to her waist. "We laid out wildflowers there once."

"And got sunburned," she teased, eyes half-lidded. "But I wouldn’t mind it again."

They moved together toward the clearing. As they walked, Jude felt the watchers still trailing at a distance, always just behind the curve of mist or the flicker of leaf. Not threatening. Just there. Like sentinels. Or witnesses.

In the clearing, light spilled across the moss in golden puddles. The scent of jasmine and some heady purple flower Grace had named weeks ago filled the air. They didn’t speak as they sat on the moss. Their hands moved without thought, finding buttons, sliding cloth. Grace leaned over him, eyes glowing with something slow and feral, and Jude let her move as she pleased, his breath catching as her mouth brushed his collarbone.