Vark tries to strike up a conversation while we march through the dark corridors, but I remain silent, fuming over what I’ve discovered. We pass several orcs, including the scout I met the other day, and they call out greetings, but for once, I don’t bother returning them. Gorvor said they were saving humans from the slave trade, offering them positions in the orc settlements if they had nowhere else to go. But how did they finance these rescue missions? And why was everyone being so secretive about it?
My footsteps echo through the halls, but Vark’s and Steagor’s are nearly silent. They’re like wolves on the prowl, watching my every move and alert to any danger that might pop up. This alone should have been enough for me to question our situation. If I’m safe inside the Hill and Gorvor doesn’t want me to travel to the human towns, it’s very strange that I need armed escort in here.
Nothing adds up, and I’ve had it with the non-answers and half-truths. With the outright lies.
Steagor stops in front of a heavily reinforced wooden door and bangs his fist on it.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“The armory,” Vark answers. “The king is inspecting the newest batch of weapons from our forge. Neekar and Ozork are leaving for town soon and will be taking a load with them.”
My stomach twists at this information. Will the orcs return with more displaced, purchased humans?
I don’t have the time to think the question through because the door swings open, and Ozork appears at the threshold.
“The queen would speak to the king,” Steagor announces in his gruff, deep voice.
Ozork ducks back into the room, and a moment later, reappears with Neekar in tow. The younger orc exclaims at the sight of me, stomps closer, and wraps me in a tight hug. His strong arms crush me to his chest, and he laughs loudly.
“Hello, Dawn,” he exclaims. “I see you have adjusted well. The king looks happy. I was sorry you weren’t meant to be my mate, but the gods know best, eh? You are so beautiful, my queen.”
He releases me from his stranglehold and holds me out in front of him. Heat rises in my cheeks at his blatant but entirely friendly appreciation.
Then I remember he’s a part of this nasty business, and I sober up, withdrawing from him.
“Get your hands away from my mate, soldier,” the king growls from behind Neekar.
My warrior friend half turns to look back at Gorvor, and I peer around him to find the king standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his massive chest. Even though I’m so much smaller than him, I forget how big he is sometimes—even compared to other orcs. He’s wearing his crown today, the cold iron glinting in the light of my lantern and the torches lit inside the room.
From his words, I expected him to glower at Neekar, but apparently, he knows that his subordinate is harmless to me, because he wears a reluctant grin on his handsome face. My stomach twists at the sight.
I’ve fallen in love with him, and I didn’t even notice. The feelings crept up on me, worming their way into my heart without my permission. And I’ve been enjoying it so much, glowing under his attention and care. Now I have to face the possibility that he’s doing something nefarious and wrong to obtain the human slaves. Maybe he sells them on. Maybe he robs innocent people of their livelihood to finance his operation. I have no idea what’s going on, only that nothing makes sense.
“If she was my mate, I’d never let her out of my sight,” Neekar taunts the king, smiling wickedly. “And she also wouldn’t want me to leave. She would want me at her side always.”
Ozork grabs Neekar by his neck and pushes him down the corridor, past me and my guards. “You have spent too much time in the company of women who are paid to tell you sweet lies, my friend.”
Vark snickers, and Neekar protests loudly, but his words are lost because Ozork drags him around the corner. I watch them leave, stalling. I’ve come here to have a painful conversation with my mate, and yet now, I don’t want to start.
Maybe I don’t want to know what he has to tell me. Maybe the truth will prove too painful, and I’m better off not knowing.
Then I square my shoulders and turn on my heels, facing him. I need to find out what’s going on. I owe it to all the people the orcs have bought at auction—and everyone they’ve left. I owe it to myself.
Gorvor extends his hand to me. “Hello, little mate. Did you miss me? Is that why you’ve come?”
I walk to him and place my hand in his. His palm swallows mine as he draws me into the large room. The guards remain stationed outside, but the king closes the door and slides the bolts across, giving us privacy.
He backs me up against the iron-reinforced oakwood and dips his face to my neck, inhaling sharply. My gaze falls past him to the walls, teeming with axes and longbows, to the racks of swords and spears, to the shields stacked high. Enough steel to outfit an army.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day. About the way you rode me this morning. My cock has been harder than forged steel, and I’ve had to pretend I was interested in axes.” He presses a kiss to my neck. “And daggers.” Another kiss. “And swords.”
I lean my head back on the door, giving him better access. I can’t help it—the effect he has on me is potent and instantaneous.
“Ah, I smell your pussy getting wet.” He groans, rocking his hips against my belly. “I need to have you.”
His cock is as hard as he says, a ridge straining behind the laces of his leather pants, and it would be so easy to let myself forget all about my questions and fall into passion with him. He drives me wild. Our bodies are made for each other, made to bring out the highest, most exquisite pleasure.
He reaches for the hem of my skirts, flipping them up with ease that speaks of practice, because we’ve done this a lot over the past weeks. I grasp his shoulders to push him away, but my traitorous fingers dig in, pulling him in for a kiss. Gorvor devours my mouth, his hot tongue stroking mine, and in a dizzying move, he picks me up with one arm and deposits me on a work bench, scattering whetstones and bits of leather to the floor.
He wedges himself between my legs, his thick thighs spreading me rudely. With his free hand, he reaches up and swipes his fingers through my pussy without warning.
I cry out, the sensations threatening to pitch me into a swift, intense climax.
But they’re also enough to snap me out of this haze of lust. I release Gorvor’s shoulders, jerk back, and shove at his chest.
“Wait,” I gasp.
He stills, his hand cupping me. “What is it?”
I screw my eyes shut, attempting to dispel the effect he has on me. “We need to talk.”
He kisses me again, a brutal claiming. “We can talk after.”
“No, Gorvor.” I break the kiss and force myself to look him in the eyes. “I saw Mara’s ledger.”
His shoulders bunch with tension, but he still doesn’t release me. He’s clothed, and yet my skirts are rucked up, my naked thighs spread.
“I need to know where the money for the slaves is coming from.” My voice is quiet, but it doesn’t tremble, and I’m grateful. I sound more self-assured than I am. “The accounts don’t add up. Your clan—our clan—isn’t making enough money to buy all those people through normal trade.”
He frowns down at me, his grip tightening on my waist. “So?”
“So? What is it that you’re hiding?” I exclaim, frustration rising in my chest. On the short walk to the armory, I’d gone through so many possibilities, discarding one after another, and only one thing makes sense. “Are you trading those people on to earn a profit? Are you using them for slave labor to finance the purchases? Tell me!”
His gaze darkens, and he crowds closer to me. “You think I’m no better than a slave trader?”
“No! I mean, I don’t know.” I push his hands away and cover myself with my skirts. My throat closes up, but I need to get this out. “It’s just that no one tells me anything, so I’m left to draw my own conclusions. And they’re not good.”
“What we do is none of your concern,” he growls. “You haven’t been here long enough to know how it was before. What we’ve had to do to protect our people.”
My eyes prickle with tears, and I hate that, I hate it so much. I’ve lost myself here, lost the will to escape, to free myself, because someone—this orc—showed me kindness. For the first time in my life, someone treated me well, and I mistook that for deeper feelings. For respect.
How wrong I was.
“Your reasoning is flawed.” I sniffle and dash the hem of my sleeve over my eyes. “Everything that happens here is my concern. If I participated in keeping humans enslaved, I couldn’t live with myself. Even if I did it unknowingly.”
The king growls, turning away from me. His shoulders rise and fall with angry, quick breaths. “So you have decided we are guilty? Even though I told you we were saving humans?”
I throw my hands up. “But that’s all you ever do! You tell me how things are. It’s your word against the numbers in your ledger, my lord. You never gave me a shred of proof that the humans you bought and paid for were happy to remain here and work for you.”
He twists in his pacing, and suddenly he’s in front of me, cupping the back of my head. “Are you not the proof? Have you been mistreated? Are you not happy?”
I bite my lip because I can’t deny it. The first time I’ve known happiness in my adult life was here, in the Black Bear Hill, with Gorvor—and with Mara, the guards, and the other orcs who have gone out of their way to make me feel welcome.
And yet…
“I’m not free,” I whisper. “You bought me, you had me brought to you, and yes, I’ve been safe and fed and cherished. But I am not free, Gorvor.”
He scowls. “Of course you are. You have the run of the settlement. You chose your own work. I have never forced you into anything.”
“But you won’t let me leave!” I shove my finger into his massive chest. “I asked you to let me travel to town, and you forbade it. When I said I needed sunlight to survive, you arranged it, but the guards followed us closely, and you picked the route, the spot where we stopped, and the duration of our outing.”
He catches my hand and grips it, hard. “I did that to protect you. If you knew what could happen to you—”
“What?” I lean in, imploring him with my eyes. “Tell me. Are you afraid I’d get gored by a wild boar? That I’d fall into a ditch and break my neck? Believe it or not, I survived just fine without you for twenty-six years.”
“And then you got snatched by slavers,” he roars. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and adds in a calmer voice, “My men told me about the state you were in when they bought you.”
I rear back, stung. “A-are you saying it’s my fault I was kidnapped?”
“No!” He pushes his fingers into his hair, frustration radiating from him. “Only that you need someone to take care of you.”
I press my lips together, too angry to worry about crying anymore. “Well, then. Good thing you came along to tell me how I should live my life.”
Twisting away from him, I march to the door and put all my strength into throwing open the heavy bolts. It’s a strain, and it infuriates me even more, because it’s making me look incompetent and weak. But I don’t give up, and the iron slides to the side with a snick.
“Dawn,” Gorvor says, his voice quiet. “Don’t.”
But I’ve had enough of listening to him for one day. I open the door wide—and find myself staring at Vark and Steagor, who shuffle away quickly with guilty expressions on their faces.
They must have been eavesdropping this entire time. Not that they would have had to strain their ears, with orc hearing being as good as it is.
I lift my head high, though shame burns through me, and start down the corridor in the direction from where we came. Only a short time has passed, yet everything feels different. None of my questions were answered, and I have broken, perhaps irreparably, my relationship with the king.
It takes me only a minute to realize I’ve left my lantern at the armory. The glow of the torches fades behind us, and I find myself standing in pitch-black darkness, surrounded on all sides by damp earth of the tunnel. Suddenly, my breath comes short, my heart thundering. I’m lost, completely.
A warm hand closes around mine, and Vark’s voice comes from the darkness to my left. “Here, my lady. Hold on to me.”
I grasp his elbow and let him lead me through the corridors. Behind us, Steagor follows, his footsteps soft. And I let my tears fall, because I can’t hold them back anymore. My orc guards, my constant shadows, must see them, but neither one of them says a thing.
We arrive at the king’s chamber, and Steagor opens the door for me. Light spills from the room, and the single lantern I left burning that morning now seems bright as the sun.
For the first time, Steagor bows to me, his brown eyes full of understanding. “Our king is good,” he rumbles in his deep voice, as if he’s unused to voicing such opinions. “The life we had before was…hard. We owe him a lot.”
I stare up at him, trying to understand. “But what happened before? Why won’t anyone talk about it?”
Steagor shakes his head. “It’s not my story to tell.”
Bitterness rises inside me. “Yes, yes, everyone keeps saying that. But the person whose story it is won’t talk to me.”
Defeated, I bid my guards goodnight and shut myself in the room. And when Gorvor comes in much later, I pretend to be asleep when he brushes my hair from my face, so gentle I could cry. It takes everything in me to keep myself from screwing up my face and to remain relaxed and unresponsive.
And when he wraps his warm, heavy arm around me and tucks me close to his chest, my heart cracks even more.
Only when his breathing deepens, hot against the back of my neck, do I allow myself to cry, the tears soaking my pillow.
