The sound of clacking footsteps in the hall announces Mrs. Pimms’ return. The matchmaker throws the half-closed door open and strides into the room. Marut unfolds himself from her chair and slides it back in its place. He doesn’t retreat to his spot by the window, though. Instead, he places himself by my side, only a foot away, not touching me but not letting me go either.
“Well?” The matchmaker takes her seat and narrows her eyes at us. “Have you come to realize I was right?”
“No,” Marut replies. “My desires remain the same.”
His desires.
I glance up at him. Choosing Marut would mean stepping into the unknown. Everyone has heard rumors and folktales about the barbaric orc clans, but that’s hardly useful in making this decision, since this orc is clearly not some cave-dwelling, feral beast. Mrs. Pimms has said his people’s reputation is good, and if I trusted her enough to put the future of my marriage in her hands, I should trust her with this as well. She always does her research. And what I’ve learned of the orc myself in this short time is further proof. His heavy coin purse and well-made clothes attest to his wealth, yet I worry I would still be a fool to fall for his honeyed words.
But the way my body responded to them…
“Violet?” Mrs. Pimms prompts. “What have you to say to this?”
Oh, gods, I’m in way over my head. I think of the letter of recommendation. Of working in a noble household, watching over other people’s children. It would be a hard life, but one without many surprises. Safe, as much as a single woman can be safe in a world dominated by men.
But it would mean giving up on my dream of having a family of my own.
“If we had children,” I say, staring up at Marut, “would they be orcs?”
His expression is somber as he replies, “Aye. Would that bother you?”
“No.” It’s the honest answer. “I only wanted to know. Would you want to have them?”
Marut’s dark gaze warms, just for me. “As many as you’d like, Violet.”
“Children?” Mrs. Pimms barks. “My dear, surely you aren’t thinking—no, of course you aren’t. Young ladies such as yourself are so sheltered. Oh, how do I explain this? To have children, you’d need to, uh, touch Mr. Marut, and he’d…”
Her words fade away as I focus on the orc. He’s just as intent on me, his hands clasped behind his back as if that’s the only thing preventing him from reaching for me.
“I will treat you well,” he mutters, his voice velvet-soft now. “I will never hurt you.”
If another man said those words to me, I’d take them for sweet lies. But there isn’t an ounce of pretense in this orc’s expression, and some deep-buried instinct is telling me to trust him.
Closing my eyes, I take a fortifying breath, then turn to the matchmaker who has finally gone quiet, watching the exchange between us.
“I will marry him,” I declare.
She pales. “Are you quite certain? Your dear mother would—”
“I am,” I cut her off. “This is what I want.”
I’m not certain at all, but now that I’ve stepped onto this path, I mean to see it through.
The matchmaker pins Marut with a glare. “I don’t know what you said to her to make her change her mind, but I will tell you this—if I hear that Violet is unhappy with your clan, I will use all my considerable influence to have the city watch hunt you down.” She stands, drawing herself up to her full height, and somehow, she seems magnificent even in the presence of the orc who’s more than a foot taller than her. “I arranged the marriage between the duke’s own cousin and his husband, so you can be sure I will succeed.”
I blink, shocked at her outburst. I had no idea she felt that way. I’d thought she was happy to see me on my way. “Mrs. Pimms…”
Her eyes water with tears as she looks at me. “Violet, dear, this isn’t what I wanted for you.”
I clench my gloved hands in my lap to keep from grimacing. “Maybe not, but it is what I choose.” Then I add, “Just think, I won’t ruin your perfect average. You’ll have one more marriage in the books.”
She sits heavily in her chair, as if all the fight has finally gone out of her. “Well, if you’re determined to make the best of it…” With a sigh, she reaches down and pulls another sheet of paper from her desk drawer. “I will send a note to the magistrate. You can be married as early as next week.”
“Today,” Marut says, interrupting for the first time. He didn’t react to the matchmaker’s threat, nor did he laugh at her. In fact, he’s looking at her as if he respects her more now for trying to protect me.
Mrs. Pimms frowns at him. “That won’t do. Miss Violet’s brother is out of town.”
The thought of Huck meeting Marut has my guts clenching with worry. Not because I’m ashamed of Marut, strangely enough, but because I know how my brother would react. He’d be rude and unpleasant, as he always is. He might even try to forbid the match, and now that I’ve made my decision, I want it to stick.
“No, that’s all right,” I find myself saying. “I don’t mind a small, quick wedding if that’s what you prefer.”
He offers me a warm look. “My clan’s caravan is leaving early tomorrow morning. It would be safest if we traveled with them. I don’t want us to be alone on the road.”
The matchmaker chews on her lip for a moment. “That’s a good argument,” she concedes. “But you’d need a dress, dear, and a trousseau. Are you quite convinced there’s no other way?”
I think of my meager allowance. Even if I waited for my brother’s return, he wouldn’t give me more money to buy a beautiful gown. Nor would he sponsor me buying underclothes and nightgowns. The mere thought of discussing this with him sends a shudder through me.
“I’m more than happy to get married in this dress.” I try to think of everything that needs to be done, then add, “Would you consider walking with us to the city hall? I will need a witness, and my brother will accept this union much better if you’ll be the one to explain it all to him.”
The matchmaker clasps her hands on the table and bows her head for a moment. “Gods help me,” she mutters. Then she straightens. “I will come with you. But only because of your mother. This is quite irregular, you see.”
I can’t help but grin at her. “Thank you.”
It’s still pouring rain outside when the three of us head out to walk the short distance from Mrs. Pimm’s office to the main city square which boasts the three-story city hall. It’s where the Duke of Ultrup does his business, although his main residence is in a different, much less crowded quarter. Here, people bustle around us, heading to the market, to visit the shops, to do their usual business, and I hate it all.
Marut and I follow the matchmaker through the rain-slicked streets, and the heaving, sweating, smelly mass of humanity fills me with terror. When a hurrying milkmaid jostles my elbow, I yelp and cringe away, wishing I could fly high above the rooftops to avoid bumping into people.
Then Marut steps up beside me, his bulky body shielding me from the crowd.
“Walk on the side of the street,” he murmurs, close but keeping enough distance between us. “I’ll make sure you don’t get hurt.”
I peer up at him from under my umbrella, at this towering orc whose hooded cloak is getting soaked with rain, and put my trust in him. I wish, for the first time in ages, that I had enough courage to take his arm. He’s so wonderfully big, people make room for him in the street. I obey his instruction and scurry along close to the buildings while he strides next to me. Ahead of us, Mrs. Pimms throws a worried glance at us over her shoulder, and I can’t help but smile, a tiny bit less worried than before.
We arrive at the city hall and take shelter from the downpour.
“I’ll inform the magistrate that we need a quick ceremony,” the matchmaker announces and hastens off down the corridor, leaving Marut and me alone in the spacious entrance hall.
He throws back his hood and comes to stand a foot away from me. A base part of me enjoys the difference in our heights, more apparent when he’s this close, even though the sensible part of my brain is screaming at me to run, to escape this large predator.
“I also have to leave you for a moment,” Marut says in his low voice. “I wanted to see you safely to our destination, but I need my witness.”
“Oh.” I lift my eyebrows in surprise. “I thought you’d ask someone at the magistrate’s office.”
He inclines his head to the side. “I could, if you would rather see me wait with you. But I had hoped to have one of my clansmen stand by my side.”
He’s given this some thought, it seems. I think of the women I’d called friends over the years, mentally going through the list of them to determine if any one of them would come to witness my wedding to this orc. Perhaps. But by living a quiet life in my brother’s household, by working as his housekeeper and then nurse, I’d isolated myself from most of my acquaintances.
No, it would be foolish to bother them. That doesn’t mean I’ll stand in Marut’s way.
“Of course not,” I say. “I’m looking forward to meeting your friend.”
His approving gaze warms something inside me as he inclines his head in thanks. Then he reaches into his pocket, pulls out that coin purse, and offers it to me. “Here, you might need to pay for the magistrate’s time while I’m gone.”
I accept the purse warily. “I-it won’t be that expensive,” I stammer. “I’m sure you can—”
“I’ll be back soon,” he promises. “Then we can talk, aye?”
Without waiting for my reply, he all but runs from the city hall, back into the rain. The heavy double door slams shut behind him, cutting off the noise of the streets, and I’m left staring at the coin purse. The clerk behind the desk on my right cranes his neck to ogle it, so I turn my back on him. A moment passes, and then I drop my umbrella to the floor and pry open the purse strings with shaking fingers.
It’s a large purse, made for an orc rather than a human, and it’s filled to bursting with gold. Fat yellow coins glimmer up at me, more money than I’ve ever held in my hands. More money than I’ve ever seen in my life. I’m fairly certain it’s more than my entire dowry, and my father put that into an account for me to set me up for life.
Yet Marut gave it to me without a second thought. To pay for administrative expenses.
I could take this money and leave, start a comfortable life somewhere else. I could learn a trade I’d enjoy, find a position that wouldn’t break my heart over and over again. I would only have to cinch the purse strings, pick up my umbrella, and slip through the door, into the crowds. I could pay for a private coach and be miles away from Ultrup by nightfall.
Then I think of how Marut looked at me—as if I was the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. I think of my body’s response to him, of the inappropriate banter in the matchmaker’s office.
So I cinch the purse strings—but I stay put, right there in the entrance hall, waiting for him. I may be making the biggest mistake of my life, but Marut chose to trust me. I’m merely extending that same courtesy to him, hoping I won’t regret it for the rest of my life.
