“It’s been two days, Steagor.” A woman’s voice again. “She’s barely held down any water, and if what she told you was true, that she didn’t have much to eat in the days before you found her, she might be too weak to pull through.”
“She will,” a gruff male voice replies. “She has to.”
A scuff of boots on dirt, and the bed I’m lying on dips slightly to the side.
“I can’t imagine how it must feel to have finally found—”
“Don’t.” The word is curt, an order that allows no argument.
The woman sighs. “All right. But please, get some rest. We can ask Mara to have another bed brought in here if you’d like.”
“No.”
Receding footsteps announce her departure, and I try to determine whether the man has left as well. If it’s safe to open my eyes yet.
I’m thirsty beyond belief, and my stomach seems to have shrunk to the size of a walnut. I blink open one crusty eye and squint against the glow of a lantern.
The room is round, unlike in most human houses. I seem to be in a cave of some sort, but the air is warm and dry, not damp like I’d expect.
Slowly, trying to be inconspicuous, I turn my head to the side. An arm comes into view, half of it clad in a linen shirt with the cuff rolled up to expose a strong, veined forearm. The skin on that forearm is green.
Memories trickle in with painful slowness. The campfire in the forest. The food. The orcs.
The arm belongs to an orc, a male so large, he dwarfs the chair he’s sitting in. Steagor is hunched forward, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands.
Steagor. My father’s friend, the one I’ve been searching for these past weeks, the one who was supposed to help me. How, I don’t know. My father’s letter was the only point of connection between us, and it seems to have been enough for Steagor to bring me here.
I try to stay silent, studying him, but he must hear my quick intake of breath, because he straightens and looks at me, hope and worry warring in his expression.
“Oh,” he says, “you’re awake.”
I start to reply, but all that comes out of my mouth is a hoarse croak. Immediately, he jumps up and reaches for a pitcher of water. He pours some into a clay cup, then helps me sit up. My hands shake too much to hold the cup, so he brings it to my mouth instead.
“Small sips,” he rumbles. “Dawn and Taris said you shouldn’t drink too much at once, or you’ll be sick again.”
I want to grab his hand and make him give me more water, but he retreats before I can get my sluggish body to move.
He walks to the door. “I’ll get you some fresh broth. Don’t go anywhere.”
He’s gone a moment later, leaving me alone in the spacious chamber. Propped up by soft pillows, I gawk at my surroundings. The bed I’m lying in is wider and longer than human beds usually are, which makes sense given Steagor’s size. I don’t know if other orcs are the same, but when I stood next to him in the forest, he’d towered over me.
Not that it surprises me. Most human men are taller than me, too.
Strangely, the room has no windows, only a couple of holes in the ceiling, which I assume must be vents, because the air isn’t stale, despite the fact that we’re obviously underground. The only illumination comes from lanterns—one close by, on a short stool by the bed, and the other hanging by the door. The walls and the domed ceiling are all made of packed earth, as is the floor—only that’s mostly covered in sheepskin rugs. A wooden chest stands by the wall opposite the bed, and beside it, a table with a pitcher and a washbasin. There’s a small table with only one chair, a sturdy, three-legged thing. The only décor is a tapestry at least six feet tall depicting a hunting scene with several green-skinned orcs pursuing a herd of snow-white sheep through a forest.
The room is simple enough to border on austere, but I don’t mind the simplicity. The bed is soft and cozy, the air warm—though I have no idea how—and there’s a scent permeating everything around me that I can’t quite place. It reminds me of rosemary and smoke, a good, comforting scent I want to wrap myself in.
I inhale deeply, glad my nose is no longer stuffy. I smell a little, but I feel better than I have in days—
The thought brings me up short. How much time has passed since I met the two orcs in the forest? And where, exactly, am I?
I try to swing my legs over the side of the bed, but I’m still so damn weak. What I need to do is get my bearings, explore all my options, and decide on what I should do. I never expected my journey to end in the orc kingdom, and it’s only a stroke of luck that I’m still alive—orcs aren’t usually this nice to their captives.
Because that’s exactly what I am. A captive, and I need to—
The door opens on a soft creak, and Steagor stomps back inside, carrying a tray with covered dishes on it, closely followed by a human woman. The first thing I notice about her is her pregnant belly, not fully rounded yet but definitely visible. Then I lift my gaze to her pretty face, noting her long hair and hazel eyes. She’s taller than me and must be a couple of years older at least. Her well-made dress and the careful embroidery on its hem tell me she’s a lady.
“Hello,” she says, approaching the bed. “How are you feeling?”
I finger-comb my hair quickly to make myself more presentable, then give it up as a lost cause. It’s hopelessly tangled and dirty.
“I’m better,” I mutter. “But I have no idea where I am.”
I want to keep the conversation between us, but the tall orc stands there, listening in, seemingly without remorse. At my reply, he steps even closer.
“You’re in the Black Bear Hill,” he says. “And this is my room.”
The woman sits on the foot of the bed with a sigh. “I’m Dawn.” She places her hand on her chest. “And if you didn’t know, the handsome orc who brought you here is Steagor.”
I sneak a glance at him. “I remember that.”
I don’t dispute her description of him, because I don’t want to be rude—again—but handsome isn’t the word I’d use to describe him. Strong, yes. Striking, even. But he’s too rough and scarred to be handsome. Something in his gaze tells me he’s aware of my thoughts, though, and I quickly focus back on the woman, hoping my blush won’t give me away.
Dawn purses her lips thoughtfully. “I suppose you do. Well, you’re safe now. It was touch and go for a day or two there, with your fever so high and all. But Steagor here nursed you back to health, and I hope that’s the end of it.”
Once again, I shoot a glance at Steagor, and I swear he’s embarrassed. He ducks his head and mumbles something about the healer and the queen, but I can’t quite make out his words.
“Are you hungry?” Dawn asks. “We brought you some broth with egg noodles. Even if you can just drink the broth, that would be a good start.”
She motions to Steagor, who steps forward with the tray and puts it in my lap. There’s herbal tea—and the soup, which smells divine. I want to take the bowl and drink the whole thing at once, but I also don’t want to repeat what happened at the campfire. Besides, I’m not sure I could hold up the bowl on my own, and I don’t want to be fed like a baby. I take the spoon and slowly sip the broth, relishing the salty taste.
“Thank you,” I say. “This is good.”
Dawn looks from me to Steagor, opens her mouth as if to say something, then closes it again. Finally, she clears her throat. “Mara and I changed your shift last night. It was… We couldn’t let you sleep in it, is all.” She offers me an apologetic grin. “Steagor waited outside, of course.”
I glance down at myself, noticing the unknown linen chemise for the first time. It’s modest enough, but my curves have to be contained with stays and several layers of fabric to make me presentable.
No wonder Steagor is embarrassed.
“Um, could you—” I cover my breasts with my arm, heat rising in my cheeks. “Could I have a shawl, maybe? I’m a bit chilled.”
Steagor leans over me and presses the backs of his fingers to my forehead. “What? Has your fever returned? You don’t feel warm, but you humans are strange. Dawn, I thought you said it was over now. I should get Taris.”
He hurries from the room, closing the door. I stare after him, confused, then look at Dawn.
A corner of her full mouth tips up. “He’s concerned. And I’ll tell you now, orcs don’t have the same reservations about bodies and nudity that humans do. So while I understand why you want to cover up…” She gets up and walks to the chest, where she rummages around until she pulls out a large linen shirt. “I can say with authority that Steagor doesn’t mind you showing some skin. At all.”
I gratefully accept the shirt from her and drag it over my head, taking care not to spill the soup. “Thank you. And it’s not about him. I felt…exposed.”
Snuggling into the shirt, I catch that delicious scent again. It must be some sort of soap that they use to wash their clothes and bed linens. Lifting my soup bowl again, I take another sip—and another, because I’m not feeling sick, so I suppose it’s safe to have more.
Dawn sighs. “I understand. I still haven’t completely embraced the orc ways, and I’ve been here since the spring.”
Setting away the now-empty bowl and tray, I raise my eyebrows. “You didn’t always live here?”
“No,” she says. “King Gorvor’s men saved me from Ultrup and brought me here.”
I bite my lip to keep from asking her to continue. We barely know each other, and I don’t want to pry. But if this is truly orc territory, if I’m in King Gorvor’s dwelling, or palace, or whatever they call it, I want to know more.
“But you decided to stay here?” I venture finally, unable to keep the question to myself.
She gives me a soft smile. “Yes. Gorvor is my mate.”
“Your—ooh,” I gasp. “So your baby…?”
“Is going to be an orc,” she supplies. “I know, it’s strange. But it’s my kind of strange, and I love it.”
A slight edge creeps into her words, like she’s already had an argument about this and is taking a defensive stance out of precaution.
I lean forward and cover her hand with mine. “I’m not judging you. I just never…” I search for the right words to explain what’s bothering me. “Where I come from, we were taught to fear the orcs. My grandma used to tell such stories…”
Dawn grimaces. “I know. And they’re definitely not all good. But…humans are good and bad, too, you know? It’s the same with orcs.” Her smile returns, and she gives my fingers an encouraging squeeze. “I wanted you to know that no one here will hurt you.”
Her words confirm the sensation of safety that has settled in my gut since I woke up. Yes, I’ve been brought to this strange place—but what would have been the alternative? I would have died if Steagor and Neekar had left me in the forest.
“I suppose I should thank Steagor when he returns,” I say softly. “He’s…”
“Overbearing?” Dawn suggests. “Terrifying?”
I laugh, the first time in weeks. “I was going to say intense.”
She grins and stands. “He is that. But good all the way through.”
“Wait,” I say, “are you leaving? You have to tell me what I can do to make up for all your help.”
Dawn cocks her head to the side. “For now, just rest, and we’ll talk—”
The door opens so fast, it rebounds off the wall. Steagor marches in, his frown fierce, followed by an older orc woman whose long hair has turned mostly silver.
“You must make her better,” Steagor barks, pointing at me. “She is weak.”
The woman gives him an unamused glare, then bustles over to my side. She feels my forehead, peers into my eyes, and has me tilt back my head so she can peer into my throat.
Then she straightens, hands on her hips, and faces Steagor. “She is fine. Or she will be if we let her eat and rest.”
“But she said she was—” Steagor argues, his expression souring even more.
“Are you saying you know more about healing than I do?” She draws herself up to her impressive full height.
The tall orc hangs his head, chastened. “No, Taris. I would never—”
“Right. I don’t appreciate being dragged halfway across the Hill, either,” she scolds. Then she turns to me. “But if you ever really need me, love, you let me know, and I will come.”
I nod, heat rising in my face again. All this fuss because of me. It’s embarrassing, and I don’t want to cause any more trouble than I already have.
Dawn sends me a commiserating look, then puts a hand on Taris’ shoulder and leads the healer out of the room. The door closes behind them, and I’m all alone with Steagor.
He walks closer to the bed, then stops, looming over me. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” I squeak. “But I have to use the bathroom.”
Of all the things to say, this has to be the worst, but Steagor doesn’t even blink. He steps closer and offers me his arm, then escorts me to the tapestry on the wall. I frown, not sure what he’s doing, but he nudges it aside to reveal a privy chamber, complete with running water, carved into the earth.
“I’ll be out here if you need me,” he rumbles, then lets me go.
I use the toilet and wash my hands in the stone basin, then wash my face, too. It feels amazing, and I wish I could have a bath, but that will have to wait for another day. My legs are starting to shake, and I need to lie down.
The moment I push open the tapestry, Steagor is there to escort me back to bed. He even helps me under the covers, frowning all the while.
Is this when he tries to have his way with me?
I give myself a mental shake. Dawn said he wouldn’t hurt me. And he’s not doing anything wrong, it’s only his otherness and size that have me cowering like a scared rabbit. So I do my best to pull myself up in bed, to straighten my shoulders so I don’t appear as weak.
“I haven’t had a chance to thank you yet,” I say, proud that my voice only wavers a little. “For not leaving me in the forest.”
His frown deepens. “You thought I would leave you there?”
“No, I—” I flutter my hands, trying not to make even more of a mess. “You barely met me. I tried to steal your food and then I was sick. I didn’t expect you to, ah, take on the burden.”
He clenches his jaw, a muscle popping in his cheek. “It’s the least I could do. For my ward.”
