A knock on the door wakes me from a fitful nap. I’d cried myself into a stupor and fell asleep sniffling into Gorvor’s pillow. I raise my head, groggy and puffy-eyed.
“Who is it?” I call.
The door opens a crack, and an orc woman pokes her head into the room. “Hello?”
It’s the young stranger who hugged me yesterday—the king’s cousin.
I give her a weak wave. “I’m over here.”
She takes one glance at me, and her large brown eyes widen in shock. “Oh dear.”
I must look frightening if even an orc is appalled by my appearance.
The thought shoots through my mind, and is immediately followed by shame. The orc woman standing in the doorway is…beautiful. She’s not handsome by human standards, maybe, but her tall, curvy body is stately, her bosom accentuated by her lovely dress, and her green skin is clear and glowing. Her doe eyes are stunning, and her long black braid is expertly plaited. She radiates health in a sturdy, fertile sort of way, and suddenly, I’m embarrassed about my unbound hair, my swollen face, and my wrinkled dress.
She says something to the guards still stationed outside, steps into the room, and closes the door behind her. Then she walks right to the bed and sits on the edge next to me.
“Are you all right?” she asks softly.
I force myself to sit up and rake my fingers through my hair in an attempt to tame it. “Yes. I’m fine.”
She raises her eyebrow, and in that moment, she resembles the king so much, I can’t continue pretending I haven’t recognized her.
“You’re Gorvor’s cousin,” I say, straightening my spine. “You brought me dresses yesterday.”
Her smile lights up her face. “I’m Mara.”
“I’m Dawn.” I stick my hand out, then realize what I’m doing. “Gods, I’m meeting his family while lying in bed. I’m sorry.”
I make a move to stand, but she puts a hand on my arm to stop me.
“Don’t get up. I find beds to be so comfortable, don’t you?” She pats the pillow and gives me an encouraging smile.
I bite my lip. “All right, but I do have to wash my face. Wait here.”
She settles in, and I dash to where the water pitcher sits on a chest and splash my face with cold water. I take Gorvor’s comb and run it through my hair, then hastily braid it. I brush my hands over the skirt of my dress and sigh, resigned to the wrinkles. This is the best I can do without time to prepare.
I return to bed and perch next to Mara. “So, did the king send you to check up on me?”
The corner of her lips turns up. “He asked me to show you around the Hill, but if you’d rather stay here, we can send one of the guards for some honey cakes from the kitchens and I can tell you all the clan gossip.”
That startles a surprised laugh from me. “That sounds like an amazing idea, but I should probably learn my way around so I’m not completely dependent on others.”
A voice inside my head is insisting I should milk this woman for information, make sure I have an escape plan formulated in case I decide to leave rather than take my chances with the king. But until I know more about the settlement and the lands surrounding it, any attempt at running away would end in my capture—or I’d get lost in the woods and die of exposure.
Mara hops from the bed and offers me her arm. “What do you want to see first?”
She throws open the door, and the two guards stand at attention. I recognize both from last night, and I wonder if they’ve been standing here all this time. I hope not.
“Vark, Steagor,” I greet them, and they bow in return.
Then Vark presents me with a lit lantern, a beautifully crafted silvery one with clear glass protecting the oil-fueled flame inside. “The king requested one of these for you. He says your human eyes are too poor to see in the dark. Is that true?”
Mara smacks the guard’s shoulder, hard. “For shame! You can’t say that to your queen.”
Vark looks properly chastened, and he gives me another deep bow. “Forgive me, my lady.”
I can’t help but grin. “It’s fine. And it’s true that human eyesight is very poor in the dark.”
Through all this, Steagor remains silent and grim, his hand on one of the several short-handled hatchets hanging from his waist.
Vark turns to him as if he’d been contributing to the conversation all along. “You were right. This would mean a significant advantage when fighting humans.”
Mara tugs my hand, and we start down the corridor in the direction Gorvor and I took last night, toward the great hall.
“Do orcs often fight with humans?” I murmur.
I meant the question for Mara, but apparently, orc hearing is also better than human, because it’s Vark who answers from behind us.
“Aye, my lady. They sometimes come and try to take back the humans we save from auction houses.” He lets out a snort. “But they leave quickly when they realize the humans want to stay.”
I glance over my shoulder at him. “So there are other humans here? But you haven’t met any to know of our…shortcomings?”
He laughs, a booming, cheerful sound that reverberates through the corridor. “You are short, that’s true.” He reaches out and pats my shoulder, his palm warm. “There are very few humans in this settlement. Several live in our outer villages, though, because they were mated with orcs who live there.”
I hide my surprise at him touching me. I was definitely not part of the nobility in the human world, but if I was, a guard would lose his hand if he dared lay it on the queen, even for a friendly gesture like this. Strangely enough, I find myself not hating the contact. It makes me feel more like one of the crowd. If all orcs are this free-thinking when it comes to nudity, touching, and relationships, I might not want to go back to the human world either.
There’s more I need to know, however. No one has tried to hurt me yet, but they did buy me at auction. And I certainly didn’t agree to being mated with their king, no matter how much I’ve enjoyed my interactions with him since. I’m torn between wanting more of their hospitality and being offended on principle because they keep making decisions for me.
“Why do you even take humans?” I ask, stopping in the dark corridor. “Why buy us? Shouldn’t we be given the choice to come here?”
The pool of light cast by my lantern creates long shadows in the dark underground corridor. The three orcs, all taller than me, look even stranger in this yellow glow, and yet they’re staring at me like I’ve grown another head.
“Dawn, we save people like you,” Mara says slowly. “The king has been working for years to end slavery. Think for a moment. You were at the auction house, and if Neekar and Ozork hadn’t purchased you, where do you think you would have ended up?”
My mouth goes dry at the thought, but I give her a truthful answer. “Probably in a brothel somewhere. Or as some depraved rich man’s sex slave.”
She reaches out and rubs my arm, the gesture comforting. “And now you’re here. You’ve found your true mate. You’re safe.”
My true mate.
Gorvor had insisted I was his mate, but I hadn’t considered what that meant for me. Was he mine as well? He’d claimed as much, but I couldn’t entirely believe that he was my perfect match.
Why not?
I’d had no luck in the human world, despite having lived there for more than twenty-six years. So why shouldn’t my life’s companion be an orc?
“Why didn’t they let me go, though?” I whisper. “The warriors. They bundled me up in a cart and wouldn’t let me return to my village.”
Vark frowns down at me. “You wanted to return? The orcs who travel to town are told to make sure the ones they bring here have no ties back to the human lands.”
I open my mouth to answer, then close it again. A memory surges up from the day I was freed from the slave barracks in Ultrup. Of Ozork lifting me into the wagon and asking me in his gruff way if there was a home I could go back to. I’d sobbed and told him I had no home.
What I’d said was the truth. The men who’d kidnapped me grabbed me from an alley by the inn where I’d been working—and sleeping in the servants’ quarters. It was no home, that’s for sure, even though I’d found some kind people there.
I’d been lucky, so lucky, that the slavers hadn’t raped me or worse. They’d seemed to know that I would fetch a higher price if I wasn’t brutalized, so they’d merely bound me and tossed me in the back of the cart, where I’d shared the filthy space with a goat and four chickens they must have stolen, too. To them, I’d been a thing, an object to be sold.
Mara seems to realize that I have no good answer to Vark’s inquiry. She takes my hand and leads me onward, and I follow, still lost in memories. If what she and Vark are saying is true, then Ozork, Neekar, and the rest of the warriors aren’t horrible monsters at all. They’d simply brought me here because they didn’t know where else to take me.
And I’d somehow ended up being mated to their king.
“What happens if a human isn’t mated to anyone?” I ask as the noise from the great hall reaches my ears. “Are they returned?”
Mara shakes her head. “Not if they don’t want to leave. Depending on their age and skill, they take up work where they can. Orcs are good at a lot of things, but not every skill or craft out there.” She motions at my dress. “Like sewing. We are mostly horrible at things that require a lot of precision.”
I smile at the memory of how frustrated Gorvor had been with the laces of my dress. “I can imagine that.”
We enter the great hall, and orcs greet us, exchanging back slaps, handshakes, and even hugs with my three companions. I receive several pats on my shoulders and a motherly embrace from an older orc woman who squeezes me against her large bosom that smells of chamomile and lavender. Mara introduces her as Taris, their herbalist, and she loudly informs me that she has prepared a tea for me that will make the king’s seed plant much quicker in my womb.
All the orcs within earshot cheer loudly at this, but I duck my head, embarrassed beyond words at the thought of discussing my womb—or the king’s seed—with anyone out in the open.
“Do they all think we’re going to have babies?” I whisper at Mara, panicking. “Straight away? I only met him last night!”
Not that this fact prevented us from enjoying each other’s bodies, of course. Maybe that’s the effect of the mate bond. The attraction and desire, the strange trust that formed between us. Gorvor, despite being much larger and stronger than me, must have trusted me, too, to let me sleep in his bed. If he hadn’t, he could have given me any of the other rooms in the underground settlement. But he’d taken me to his bed and shown me pleasure and kindness.
My mind swims with confusion. Mara tugs me to one of the tables, not the one where I’d sat with the king last night but a regular one, where a family of orcs seems to be finishing their lunch. I sit next to the mother and give her a small smile, and she grins back and hands me a basket of bread. Her belly is rounded with pregnancy, and her mate waits on her, bringing her more tea and fussing around, asking her whether she wants more fruit. She bears it all with remarkable patience.
Their two children, little twin boys, climb their father’s shoulders and jabber excitedly, pointing at me. I sit very still as they toddle over to me and touch my hands and pat my braided brown hair, as if I’m the first human they’ve ever seen and they find me interesting.
“That’s enough,” the father booms at last. “Leave the lady to eat in peace.”
I glance from him to his mate. “I don’t mind. They’re beautiful boys.”
“Thank you,” the woman says simply.
They clear the table and take their dishes to the kitchens, and I watch them leave, a strange kind of longing blooming inside my chest.
“You’re good with children,” Mara says, startling me from my thoughts.
I turn to find her and both guards watching me. “Oh, right. They were so adorable.”
I don’t know why seeing orc children changes so much in how I view their entire people, but it does. I’d noticed a couple of kids running around at dinner last night, but seeing their pudgy little hands, their tiny tusks, and their delicate pointed ears up close brought home the realization that this isn’t some den of bandits but a thriving, living community. Orcs of all ages live here, families, elderly couples, and yes, warriors as well.
My knowledge of their culture and traditions is horribly incomplete. They accepted me without question, and I’ve insulted them. I hope I haven’t done any irreparable damage yet.
“Will you show me around?” I quietly ask Mara. “I want to learn more.”
She gives me an encouraging smile. “Right after you eat something. My cousin would never forgive me if I let his mate starve under my watch.”
We eat together, and afterward, the guards escort us all through the underground dwelling, from the great hall to the kitchens and beyond. We visit the stables and the infirmary, where I meet the first human, an older man with a sour face who asks if I’m squeamish about blood. When I tell him no, he gives me a stern look and tells me to be ready for his call.
Mara ushers me out and pats my hand. “Don’t worry about our healer. He is convinced orcs are idiots for not wearing armor to battle and keeps insisting he’s done sewing up our warriors.”
Vark snorts. “An orc’s greatest strength is his speed and agility. Anyone can smash around with his sword. The trick is not getting struck.”
I think of the scars marring the king’s chest and shoulders and wonder what happened to him if that’s true. I doubt the orcs would tolerate him as their king if he wasn’t a great warrior, so what had caused all his injuries?
The list of questions I want to ask Gorvor gets longer as the day progresses. There is much to be seen, from the underwater stream and the gardens filled with glowing mushrooms, to the school where orc children of various ages are being taught their letters by a patient young orc woman. They take me to the communal hot baths—because apparently only the king and a few select individuals have thermal pools in their own rooms—and I lay eyes on more naked orcs than I ever wanted to see. Everywhere we go, Mara introduces me, and I try to remember everyone’s names, repeating them to myself.
In one of the corridors, we meet a scout party returning from the forest, three tall orcs who move through the halls soundlessly, as if they’re still stalking their prey. They disappear down a long tunnel to our right, and I stop, staring after them. As much as I tried to keep up with all the twists and turns, I think I might have gotten lost, because I’m fairly sure we haven’t explored anything in the direction these males are going.
“What’s that way?” I take a step after them.
But Steagor puts himself in my way, his bulky body all but filling the corridor from top to bottom.
“Uh, just some storage rooms,” Mara says quickly. She takes my arm and guides me back the way we were walking before. “The Hill is riddled with tunnels. You have to take care that you don’t get lost.”
Her words make sense, and yet there’s something in her expression that gives me pause. Whatever is down that corridor seems to be off-limits for me.
I cast a look over my shoulder at my guards. “There’s not much chance of that, is there?”
Because despite all their talk of offering me freedom, I’m still not allowed to go off on my own. My ever-present shadows, however polite, make my status in this clan quite clear. If I ever decide on running away after all, I’m not sure they’ll let me.
When I trip over my own feet despite the lantern, Steagor steps in and offers to carry me back to the king’s quarters. I decline his suggestion, not wanting to seem weak, but I feel like I’ve made a good impression on the gruff warrior—he’s barely spoken all day, so this seems like progress.
Still, I’m not sorry to see that we’re returning to the corridor I now recognize as the one leading to Gorvor’s room. Just before we reach the right door, however, Vark, who is walking in front, suddenly stops. His posture changes, and for the first time that day, he reaches with both hands to his weapons belt and grasps the handles of two long daggers.
“What’s going on?” I ask, peering around his bulky shoulders.
Right in front of the king’s door, two orcs stand talking quietly. They fall silent at our approach and turn to face us. I immediately recognize the male who gave that strange speech at dinner last night and one of his companions, both wearing the boar crest on their tunics.
“What are you doing here?” Vark demands.
The first male gives us a broad smile, showing off his tusks, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Just stretching our legs, friend.”
“You are not my friend. And you can stretch your legs in your quarters—or outside. This is the king’s corridor.”
Vark’s words are curt and angry, and I wonder at the change in his demeanor. He’s the most laid-back warrior I’ve met so far, apart from Neekar, who is much younger than him. But now, he’s every bit the fierce guard, and I wouldn’t want to get on his bad side.
Apparently, the strangers recognize that, too. “Forgive us. We got lost.”
As they walk past us, Vark and Steagor step in front of Mara and me, preventing the two males from brushing up against us. Still, the second orc leers at Mara in a way that has me shuddering in disgust.
“Who are they?” I whisper once they disappear around the bend.
Mara exchanges a look with Vark. “You should ask Gorvor about that. It’s not our story to tell.”
Vark nods in agreement, then frowns down at me. “My lady, would you mind returning to the great hall to wait for the king’s return? I don’t want to leave you with only one guard, but someone needs to inform the men stationed in the hall that they should keep an eye on those two.”
“Of course,” I say. “Whatever you need.”
We all troop back down the corridor, Vark at the front and Steagor bringing up the rear. That they’re genuinely concerned about my safety is touching—and more than a little worrying. Especially since Mara seems concerned as well, chewing on her lip as we walk.
Something strange is going on, and I intend to find out what it is. It might be difficult with the guards always following me around, but I’ll start at the source.
I’ll need to question the king.
