“Poppy?” a deep voice calls. “Are you in there?”
Shaking with fear, I try to think rationally, but my vision is going hazy with terror. I can’t be arrested. I can’t go back to my stepmother—or to jail. Not when I’ve finally found a place where I can be happy.
“Poppy,” the voice repeats. “Open up, sweet.”
Sweet.
Only Steagor calls me that. It’s his voice coming through the door, muffled by the thick slab of oakwood.
With a sob, I launch myself forward and grasp the iron bolt with sweaty fingers. It takes me two tries to pull it back, and when I do, the door swings inward, knocking me aside. Steagor all but falls into the room, but in a lightning-fast move, he snatches my arm and rights me before I hit the wall. I let out a hoarse shriek and land hard against his chest.
“Poppy,” he exclaims, taking my shoulders and holding me out at arm’s length. “What is going on?”
I take one look at him, at his earnest, concerned expression, and burst into tears. Steagor wraps one arm around me, slams the door shut, and bolts it. Then he picks me up and carries me to his bed, where he sits with me in his lap, tucking me in a protective embrace.
I sob against his chest, fists gripping his linen shirt. My heart is so heavy, and I’m so tired of feeling afraid. These past weeks have been a respite—and I’d thought I’d finally run far enough. That I’d finally found a safe haven where I could rest, create a new life for myself, and be happy.
Gods, I’ve been so happy here.
Now it’s all ruined again, and I’ll have to leave—not just this welcoming place but Steagor, the male I’ve come to love so much.
“Hey,” Steagor murmurs into my hair, “you’re safe. Everything will be all right.”
I shake my head frantically and cry harder, unable to choke out the words to tell him what happened. We stay like this for a long time, until I run out of tears and snot, until my eyes feel swollen and my knuckles hurt from squeezing my fists so tight.
“Are you hurt?” Steagor asks, his growl intensifying. “Do you need me to get Taris? Or Dawn? Is it a human thing?”
He’s growing distressed, and I’m to blame.
“No,” I manage to gasp. “Not hurt.”
He relaxes marginally, though his muscles remain bunched under me. His hand comes up to the back of my head, and he pets me with soft strokes, a little clumsy but so serious, so careful with me. It takes me a long while to calm down, but my sobs eventually subside, turning to hiccups, then quiet sniffles.
Steagor sets me on the bed beside him, gets up, and disappears behind the curtain to the privy. Then he reappears with a damp cloth in hand, but when I reach for it to wash my face, he shakes his head gravely and cleans me himself, brushing away my tears with gentle swipes. At last, he kneels in front of me so we’re face to face and puts his hands on my knees, his grip firm but calm.
And he waits in silence, giving me time to gather my thoughts.
My heart is so full of love for this male. I’d do anything to protect him, but I don’t know if I’m strong enough to leave. Another sob rises in my throat, and I swallow hard, dropping my gaze to my lap. My hands are an inch away from his, but I don’t want to touch him, afraid I’ll fall apart again.
Steagor lifts his hand, takes my chin, and tips my face up until I have to meet his gaze. “Tell me who hurt you so I can kill them,” he demands.
I let out a startled laugh, a pained, choked sound that’s all wrong for this moment. But the comment is enough to break through my panicked mind chatter. My gaze slips to where the folded wanted poster still sits on top of the wooden chest. I’ll have to explain now. There’s no way around it. And I can’t lie to Steagor. My plan, such as it was, would only have worked if I’d remained calm and if my mate never found out about it.
Now the cat is out of the bag, and only the truth will save me.
I open my mouth, wondering where to begin, but Steagor seems to notice me looking at the chest. He follows my gaze, and his eyes narrow. He stands and marches over, picks up the paper, and unfolds it.
Immediately, his expression falls. His skin goes ashen, and he crumples the paper in his fists, ripping it. I stare at him, confused. Did he not place that poster in the chest? But who—?
“I can explain,” he rasps.
He’s not making any sense. “What?”
He takes a step toward me, then halts in the middle of the room, as if he doesn’t want to stand too close to me. “I found this in the town we visited,” he says. “When I was on the road with the king and queen.”
I fold my arms over my chest, hunching my shoulders. “I figured as much. It’s not—”
Words stick in my throat. I want to say it’s not true, what the poster says. I don’t know the exact words, of course, but I remember enough of what the herald in Ultrup said about me.
Wanted for theft and fraud.
“I didn’t want you to find it like this,” Steagor jumps in, his gaze pleading. “Not without the other part.”
I frown up at him. “The other part?”
He walks back to the chest, opens it, and rummages through his things. I must have made a mess in there while packing my satchel, which is still lying on the floor by Steagor’s feet. Finally, he takes out another paper, this one rolled in a neat tube.
“Here.” He strides to me and hands me the paper. “You’ll see, it’s all right.”
I press my lips together to keep my chin from wobbling. Then I carefully pull on the red ribbon tying the scroll, and the paper unfurls in my shaking hands.
It’s…a letter? Possibly a statement of some sort, with some scribbles and numbers at the top and several lines of text. There’s a wax seal on the bottom and what I recognize as a signature of some sort. I squint to make out the individual letters, but the writing looks completely different from Steagor’s, and I can’t understand a word. Embarrassment rises in me, a hot bubble expanding from my belly. I’m sure my face is flaming red.
“I-I can’t read this,” I whisper, holding the letter out to Steagor.
He frowns down at me, then sits by my side. “All right,” he says, “I’ll read it for you. But—are you unwell again? Does your head hurt like it did that other time?”
I could claim that I’m afflicted by the same tiredness I affected on the day I woke up in his bed for the first time. I’d asked him to read my father’s letter to me, so I’m sure he’d do it again. Yet I find myself shaking my head in answer.
“I can’t read,” I explain, shame tightening my throat. “At all.”
I glance up at him to gauge his reaction, then lower my gaze to my lap again because there’s shock in his expression—quickly followed by understanding and pity. And I don’t want to be pitied, especially not by him.
“That’s nothing to be ashamed of, Poppy,” he rumbles in his deep voice. “Not everyone can read.”
I try shrugging it off, going for a light tone. “I know that.”
He is silent for a long while, then asks, “So you really didn’t know about what your father’s letter said before you found me?”
I shake my head mutely. There’s nothing to say about it, so I hug myself tighter, waiting.
“I’m sorry for making things harder for you,” Steagor murmurs. “I believe your father was…neglectful toward you. As much as I respected him as my friend, he did not do right by you.”
I jerk my chin up in surprise. “You really mean that?”
He twists his lips, a quick grimace showing his emotions. “I don’t like to speak ill of the dead. But if I had a daughter, I would not let her go out into the world so ill-prepared.”
His words land hard, a truth that I’ve been avoiding for months—no, years. My father was a good man, but he didn’t know what to do with a daughter, and he didn’t care enough to learn about it either. He’d taught me his craft, but not how to make a living for myself with it, and he never allowed me enough freedom to learn on my own.
“Thank you for saying that,” I whisper. “It means a lot.”
Steagor envelops me in a side hug, his heavy arm on my shoulder a comforting weight. “If you want, I can teach you,” he says. “Or find someone else to teach you if that’s what you prefer.”
I think for a moment, considering both options. “If we could find someone else to teach me, that would be wonderful. I want to learn, but I think I’d prefer being your student in other matters, not writing.”
He laughs. “That is a good idea.” Then he holds up the unfolded scroll. “Would you like me to read you this?”
At my nod, he holds the letter out so I can look at it, then reads,
“With the authority of the State Court of the Kingdom of Styria, I declare Poppy of Morav free of all charges against her. The plaintiff has received fair compensation and will be prevented from seeking further punishment for the offender.”
Steagor lowers the letter. “That’s it, besides the signature right here. Judge Vale of Ultrup.” He points out the scribble above the wax seal.
“What does this mean?” I ask, staring at him.
“You’re a free woman,” he says simply.
I burst out crying again, and he scoops me up into his lap. It’s tears of confusion and relief this time, not terror, so I calm down sooner, stealing Steagor’s wet cloth to wipe away my snot.
“You paid the judge to declare me innocent?” I sniffle, then add, “I never even told you what I did.”
Steagor’s low growl vibrates in his chest. “The poster said you were wanted for theft. I know you. I trust that you are not a thief.”
“But I am,” I whisper, a sick feeling returning to my stomach.
What if he realizes he was wrong? That he put his own honor on the line to save a felon?
Steagor lifts one thick eyebrow. “So, what did you steal?”
I swallow hard, staring off at the wall as I list all the things in my head. “Some sewing supplies. The things I had with me when I arrived. About twenty silver pieces, and…” I touch the spot at my throat where my mother’s locket used to hang. “A locket I inherited from my mother. By the law, it belonged to my father, of course, and when he died, it went to my stepmother. But I couldn’t leave it with her.”
Steagor stares at me for a long moment. “And where is it now? You didn’t have it on you the night I met you, did you?”
My throat closes up again, but I force myself to remain calm. “I had to sell it in Ultrup. I’d run out of money, and it was that or—” I bite my tongue, unwilling to tell him how desperate I’d been.
“Or sell yourself?” he guesses anyway.
That’s right. Steagor saw me at my worst, and still he helped me—nursed me back to health and offered me a future.
I give him a tense nod. “Yes. So you see, the charges against me were all true.”
Steagor takes me by the shoulders and ducks his head to look at me. “You are not a thief, Poppy. You only took what was yours by right.”
When I go to object, he rolls right over me.
“If you were born a boy, you would have inherited your father’s shop along with all the stock, as well as the house you grew up in,” he continues. “But since the laws of the human kingdom are so antiquated, you were forced to survive on your own. You are not to blame.”
I stare at him, then throw my arms around him and squeeze him hard, my face buried in his chest. I never had words to describe what exactly was wrong with my life, and he just gave them to me.
“I was afraid that someone else might have seen the poster,” I confess. “Someone from the Hill, I mean. If they were short on money, a five-mark reward might seem like a very lucrative deal.”
Steagor rubs his hand over my back. “They did see the posters.”
I freeze, then rear back. “What? Why didn’t you say something?”
“Because it doesn’t matter,” he says patiently. “No one here would turn you in. And those that did see the poster know I’ve dealt with it.”
“But the money,” I object. “You can’t know someone won’t—”
Steagor lets out a sigh, then stands and throws me over his shoulder. It’s the same kind of hold he executed the day he carried me from the fighting ring when he smelled Neekar on me, and I don’t appreciate it any more than I did the last time.
“Hey,” I yelp as he carries me out into the corridor. “Put me down.”
“All in good time,” he rumbles. “First, we’re going to see the king.”
“The king?” I squirm, tugging at his shirt. “Steagor, I can’t go see the king! I’m a mess!”
“He won’t care,” Steagor replies. “And this is too important.”
He strides through the hallways until we reach a door guarded by two warriors. One of them is Neekar, the other Uram, a male I’ve seen around several times but never talked to.
“Wait here.” Steagor sets me down between the two orcs. Then he raps his fist on the door, and when the reply comes to enter, he winks at me and disappears inside.
The door closes in my face, and I look from Neekar to Uram, confused and more than a little unsettled.
“Congratulations on your mating,” Neekar says, clapping me on the shoulder. “I heard you in the baths the other day. You seemed very happy.”
My cheeks flame with embarrassment, but the male seems to be completely genuine, his smile earnest and not even a bit weird. I remind myself that orcs view lovemaking as a normal part of a relationship, not as shameful or something to be hidden.
“Thank you.” I tuck my hair behind my ears. “I-I am happy. I just wish I knew why Steagor brought me here.”
Neither of the guards answers, though I can see them straining to hear what’s going on behind the closed doors. This is getting weirder and weirder, and I squirm in place, wishing Steagor would return.
Soon, the door flies open again, and my mate appears, followed by King Gorvor himself.
“Come on,” Steagor says. “We have something to show you.”
Gorvor gives me a smile that could be considered friendly if he wasn’t so intimidating. But before I can ask what’s going on, Dawn bursts from the room, hopping on one foot, still tying the laces of her boot.
“Wait for me,” she exclaims. “I want to go with you.”
Gorvor lets out an exaggerated sigh. “You’ve seen it already.”
“But it’s so pretty,” she coos, batting her eyelashes at him.
The king puts his arm around his queen. “Sometimes I wonder about the reason you stay with me.”
Dawn glowers at him. “It has nothing to do with that.”
“No?” Gorvor grins down at her, his expression softening.
Dawn pinches his side, and he laughs, a booming sound I’ve never heard from him. Their gazes connect, and it’s clear how much they love each other. And the king’s expression is so similar to how Steagor watches me when he thinks I’m not paying attention to him.
I glance at my mate, only to find him looking at me, and he offers me his hand, his perpetual frown slipping ever so slightly. Biting my lip, I entwine my fingers with his and squeeze. Steagor might not wear his feelings on his sleeve, but his actions speak loud enough. He loves me, and whatever we’re doing here, now, I need to trust him.
“Where are we going?” I whisper to him as we follow Dawn and Gorvor down the corridor.
Neekar and Uram make up the tail end of our small procession, and it feels strange to be accompanied like this. I’m used to moving around the corridors on my own. This is what Steagor does when he’s on duty, I suppose, and I understand why he’s used to being silent most of the time—it’s a part of his job.
We walk deeper into the Hill than I’ve ever gone before, descending lightly with the tunnel. The lanterns are far more scarce here, and I rely on Steagor to keep me from tripping over my own feet in the gloom.
At last, a stronger source of light appears up ahead, and we come up to a heavy grate shutting off the corridor, guarded by four orcs. They raise the heavy portcullis after King Gorvor unlocks it, and I duck under the thick iron spikes, bemused. What could be so important that it’s so heavily guarded?
My question is answered soon after. We walk into a tall cavern, bisected by…
“Is that gold?” I step forward, dropping Steagor’s hand.
“Mm-hmm,” Dawn says. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
The vein is several feet wide and runs from the floor to the ceiling, disappearing into the raw rock. Several orcs are at work here, carefully chiseling away bits and pieces of the precious metal.
“You see?” Steagor murmurs from behind me.
I jerk in surprise and whirl around to face him. “What?”
“No one in this Hill would turn you over to the humans for such a small sum,” he states. “Why would they, when we have this?”
He indicates the gold mine with his hand. And indeed, why would they? There is more gold here than anyone could ever need in their entire life.
“How come this isn’t known?” I ask. “I mean, I’ve heard stories about orcs, but never that you were extremely wealthy.”
The king turns to me and fixes me with a serious gaze. “We keep it a secret to protect our people. What do you think would happen if humans learned about this?”
The answer presents itself immediately. “They would try to take it from you.”
“Aye.” Gorvor pulls Dawn into his side, hugging her tight. “And my people would die. We are mighty warriors, but humans are more numerous, and for something like this, kings would throw their soldiers’ lives away like garbage.”
I grimace. He is right, of course. Human greed knows no bounds.
“But we know not every human is like that,” Gorvor continues. “Which is why I agreed to let you see this place. You will understand our people better if you know how this kingdom works.”
“They use the money for good,” Dawn adds, her face radiant. “They saved me from slavery, and so many other people, too.”
Steagor takes my hand and gives my fingers a squeeze. “I wanted you to feel safe here.”
I look from one to the other, meeting their gazes. Then I focus back on the gold, seeing it differently. The more I think about this, the more I’m surprised that they showed it to me. The orcs in the Hill must all know this secret, but I’m an outsider. And they just added me to their circle of people who could potentially betray them.
“Thank you,” I choke out past a suddenly constricted throat. “For trusting me. I-I won’t ever…”
My words fail me, relief coursing through me at the realization that there is no way anyone here would sell me to the human authorities. It’s a selfish conclusion to draw from all of this, but after the fright I got this morning when I found the poster with my image on it, I can’t help myself.
Steagor wraps me in an embrace and holds me while I shudder, reconciling with the fact that I really am safe here. I don’t have to run anymore, and no one is coming after me.
“Come on,” Dawn says gently, motioning with her head back toward the corridor. “We should go. We’re having a dinner party tonight to see off the warriors who are leaving for Ultrup tomorrow.”
I allow Steagor to guide me into the hallway, and we walk in silence for a while, past the iron portcullis and the guards, following Dawn and Gorvor, who have their heads stuck together in quiet conversation. We part ways at a fork in the corridor, and the two guards raise their hands in farewell as they quietly trail the king and queen.
Steagor leads me to his room, then closes the door, and slides the bolt across. He leans his broad back on the wood and just looks at me, his lips quirking up in the corners. It’s not exactly a smile, but it touches some inner part of me, and I walk back to him, right into his embrace.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “This means so much.”
He closes his arms around me. “It will take time, but you will learn to feel safe again.”
Biting my lip to keep back the tears, I nod. Then I stand on my tiptoes, and Steagor leans over me to kiss me. It’s a soft caress at first, a promise of the future, but it grows in heat with each moment, engulfing us in passion.
Steagor carries me to his bed—our bed—and undresses me, groaning at the sight of yet another chemise I’ve created.
“Don’t you dare ruin it,” I gasp.
He deftly pulls it over my head. “I will take very good care of it.”
He bunches it up and tosses it across the room, where it lands on top of the wooden chest in a flutter of fabric. I arch my eyebrows at him, impressed, and he grins, showing off his tusks. He strips for me, removing his pants first, and then, with a solemn expression, his shirt. I open my thighs for him and pull him down to me so I can wrap my legs around his waist and run my palms over his muscular chest.
When he pushes his cock into me, we both gasp, and I cling to his shoulders until I relax around him, taking him all the way to his knot. The exquisite fullness and the drag of his hard, thick length through my sensitive pussy are familiar now, yet every time we come together like this seems different, more intense and intimate.
“I love you,” he rasps into my neck, dragging his sharp teeth over my pulse point.
I bring my lips to his ear and kiss the sensitive tip. “I love you, too.”
I move my hands to his sides, then bring them around to his back—and he shudders at the touch. I lightly trace his scars with my fingertips, exploring the texture.
“I love all of you,” I whisper.
Steagor kisses me, and the rhythm of our lovemaking changes, his thrusts going deeper. Then he brings one hand between us to strum my sensitive pearl, and between one hard push and the next, I fly. My climax explodes, and Steagor follows me into the bliss. His knot slips inside me, fusing us together, setting off more pleasure.
Steagor bellows my name and presses his forehead to mine, all the while pulsing inside me, muttering sweet, filthy things in my ear.
“I wish everyone could see how beautiful you are when you come.” He kisses the tip of my nose. He pushes one arm under my shoulders and rolls so I’m on top, with his knot still lodged deep.
“Oh?” I wiggle my hips and gasp at the full, stretching sensation. “That can be arranged.”
I don’t know how, but if this is something that Steagor finds intriguing, I’d certainly be willing to try, as long as we don’t traumatize any minors.
“Aye,” he growls. “But then I might have to kill anyone who looks at you. So I am going to keep you all to myself. For now.”
My brain might be mush after all the pleasure he sparked in me, but his words are incredibly erotic for some reason.
“I don’t know that I want to share you either,” I reply. “You’re all mine.”
Steagor reaches out and cups my face. “I have waited my entire life to claim a mate. But I never knew how much I needed to be claimed in return.”
Tears well up, so I kiss him, once, then again for good measure. “I will claim you every day. From now until forever. I want everything with you.”
Steagor is silent for a long moment, as if he’s searching for the right words to say. His expression changes, raw hope shining in his eyes.
“A family?” he asks at last. “Would you want that as well?”
My heart does a happy flip, and I push myself to a seated position, so I’m astride him, my knees on either side of his hips, still impaled on his cock.
“Yes,” I say. “A family.”
“But you drank your tea…?” he says, a grin blooming on his face.
I wiggle my hips again. “That doesn’t mean we can’t practice.”
Steagor laughs and takes my hips, and for once, I don’t care about the future.
I only care about this handsome orc who has my heart, just as I have his.
