Gorvor is gone by the time I wake the next morning, and his side of the bed is long cold. I try not to let it get to me, but it’s impossible. My head feels too heavy, my thoughts sluggish and dark. I bathe, washing my tears away with the warm water, and feel marginally better afterward.
Still, it’s a long, painful day. I cannot work with Mara after yesterday’s incident, so I make myself useful in the kitchen, even roping Vark into helping me chop a mound of root vegetables for tonight’s stew. We send Steagor off to rest, because we’re surrounded by so many friendly orcs, and I feel bad for taking over my guards’ life completely—even though I wasn’t the one who assigned them to this duty.
I putter around the kitchen, washing massive cauldrons and kneading dough, glazing honey cakes and sweeping the floor, until I’m swaying with fatigue. Vark keeps up with me and at the end of the after-dinner cleanup, picks me up bodily and carries me back to the king’s chamber. I collapse on the bed, still dressed, and sink into a deep sleep, and the next morning, I repeat it all, disheartened by the empty bed beside me.
I catch glimpses of Gorvor through the kitchen door at mealtimes, speaking with his scouts or other warriors, but I don’t join him at the big table. I prefer to take my meals by the counter in the kitchen, tearing chunks of still-warm bread with my teeth while trying to hide from prying eyes. I think by now, everyone in Black Bear Hill has caught on to the fact that the king and I are arguing, so they’re tiptoeing around me, casting me worried glances.
And I don’t resent them for it—in fact, the last thing I want is to discuss my relationship with anyone. Because Gorvor and I aren’t arguing. We’re just ignoring each other to see who will crack first.
I’m sure the king expects me to fold and submit to his ridiculous rules. He wants to keep me in this anthill of a town, barefoot and pregnant, as the saying goes.
And I might be. Pregnant, that is. I’d forgotten all about the tea mixes Gorvor got for me that first week, and the timing might be right. We haven’t had sex in days, but if I counted the days right, my life could get a lot more complicated soon.
Still, I won’t break. I have survived on my own for more than a decade, and I won’t shy away from hard work. In fact, on the third morning, I seek out Mara, who looks like she hasn’t had much sleep lately, and ask what the wages are for a kitchen maid. The sum she gives me is fair, if small, and I calculate it will take me years to pay off the hundred gold marks that the orcs paid for me at the auction. Still, if I work two shifts a day, I can halve the time easily and be out of here soon after.
Mara’s eyes water when I ask her to keep a tally of my earnings.
“You don’t have to pay anything back,” she whispers. “That’s not how it works.”
I stare at her. “Then how does it work? You do all this out of the goodness of your hearts?”
She presses her hand to her mouth and shakes her head but doesn’t say anything.
“Right,” I say. “Not your place. Just keep that running total for me, please.”
I depart from her office, even more heartbroken than before.
Still, the tensions rise in the Hill, with more warriors coming and going, meetings held in secret that either Vark or Steagor must attend, and a scuffle erupts between one of the Boar Clan males and a young orc whose sister was the object of some rude remark. I marvel at the fact that the strangers are allowed to remain here despite everything, but now I keep my thoughts to myself and continue watching and listening for any hint of what’s going on.
I return to our bedchamber one evening, tired to the bone, to find Gorvor sitting on the bed with a small wooden chest beside him. I stop, unsure of what to do. We’ve been avoiding each other, and he has taken to coming to bed late and rising early, so we haven’t spoken in a week.
But now he’s here, shirtless and beautiful, his broad shoulders hunched in a way I haven’t seen before. I stop on the threshold, hesitating. Then something nudges me from behind. I glance over my shoulder to find Steagor shooing me forward. I raise my eyebrows at him, and he nods, encouraging, then gives me another, harder push that sends me stumbling forward. Before I can do anything, he grabs the side of the door and pulls it shut, cutting me away from my only escape route.
It’s nothing new, being kept somewhere I don’t want to be, but I’m shocked Steagor cares enough to meddle in our affairs. I glower at the door for a moment, deciding whether it’s worth opening it and giving the hulking orc a piece of my mind. But if Gorvor is here, maybe he wants to talk…
I twist around and stop. He’s looking at me, his black eyes solemn. For once, he doesn’t move a muscle, just waits, his large hands gripping the covers by his sides.
Finally, I can’t take the silence anymore. “I’m tired,” I say. “I’m going to get ready for bed.”
He gives me a slow nod, then turns to the side and picks up the wooden box. “Here.”
He holds it out to me, waiting.
Curious in spite of myself, I walk closer and wrap my fingers around the handles at the sides. Gorvor lets go, and I nearly drop the box, that’s how heavy it is. Struggling with its weight, I carry it over to the writing desk. Its insides rattle when I drop it heavily onto the cluttered surface.
“What is this?” I ask.
Gorvor motions for me to open it.
I unclasp the simple mechanism at the front and open the lid. My breath rushes from me on a surprised exhale.
It’s money.
And a lot of it. Yellow gold marks, each coin heavy and large, are crammed inside, filling the small chest’s entire space. I’ve never seen so much gold in my life.
I glance up at Gorvor, who has come to stand beside me. I have so many questions, my mind can’t seem to decide on just one, so I gape at him in silence.
“It’s a hundred and fifty marks,” he says, his voice low. “Consider it…your dowry.”
I swallow, my throat dry. “I think the bride’s family is supposed to provide a dowry, not the groom’s.”
He makes an impatient gesture with his hand. “Then it’s a wedding gift. I don’t care what you call it.”
I close the lid, hiding the shiny coins from view. “Why would you give this to me? I have nowhere to spend it. And why now?”
A muscle ticks in his jaw, and in the dim light of the single lantern illuminating the room, he seems…tired. Like he hasn’t slept enough in a while. Like maybe he has been working too much and spreading himself too thin.
“Mara told me about your agreement,” he says slowly. “That she would keep a tally of your wages for you.”
I straighten my shoulders. “Oh, is that it? You don’t want me to be paid?”
He shakes his head. “No, Dawn. I wanted you to know that you didn’t owe me anything. Or the clan. So I’m giving you a wedding gift. I should have gotten you something before, but…orcs don’t put much stock in things like that.”
No, they don’t. I’ve learned through my time here that vanity is not an orc trait, and that jewelry and adornments are seen as fussy and impractical, more than anything.
“Like I told you,” Gorvor continues, “it’s a hundred and fifty gold marks.”
Something clicks inside my brain. “Is that… Is that how much…?”
I can’t force the words out. A lump forms in my throat, and I clench my jaw, forcing myself to keep calm.
“Aye. That was how much Neekar and Ozork paid for you at the auction.” Gorvor takes my shoulders gently and turns me so we’re facing each other. “That is not how much you are worth. I would pay a hundred times that for your freedom. A thousand. If only you would find your way to me again.”
I can’t stop the tears from slipping down my cheeks. He brushes them away with his big thumbs, then takes hold of my chin and lifts it so I’m forced to look him in the eyes.
“Pick up the chest and give it to me, Dawn,” he orders.
I swipe my sleeve over my face and take hold of the heavy load. “Why?”
He motions with his hand. “Give it to me.”
I extend my shaking arms and offer him the chest. He accepts it and drops it back on the desk with a heavy thud. “Now you have paid what you thought was your debt. You owe me nothing, do you understand?”
I manage to nod, but my face crumples, so I cover it with my hands, sobbing. Strong arms wrap around me, and Gorvor squeezes me to his warm chest, muttering soothing nonsense in my ear. He caresses my hair and eventually, when he realizes I’m not calming down anytime soon, he carries me over to the bed and tucks me under the covers, douses the lantern, and gets in behind me.
I fight sleep, not wanting to give up the sensation of being in his arms again. I don’t know if this strange conversation will fix anything between us, yet I don’t want to let go.
But exhaustion pulls me under, the cost of working as much as I did over the past week finally catching up with me.
“Stay,” I mumble, fighting through the fog of dreams.
Gorvor’s arms tighten around me. “I’ll stay, little mate. Now sleep.”
