We stay in bed after, Korr still wrapped around me even though his knot releases and we clean ourselves up. The closeness between us remains, and Korr’s embrace is so cozy, I don’t want to give it up.
“Is this how we will be?” I whisper as I draw slow patterns on his chest with my finger. “Spending our days apart and our nights together?”
I hate the words the moment they leave my mouth. They sound half needy, half accusatory, though I didn’t mean them that way, at least not intentionally.
Korr tightens his grip on me. “Could you be happy, living like this?”
I poke him in the ribs. “It’s rude to answer a question with a question.”
He sighs, and we lie together, both silent.
“I cannot remain underground for long,” he says finally. He peers at the ceiling, his body tensing. “I know this Hill has held its shape for decades, if not centuries, but no matter how hard I try to convince myself, I cannot stop thinking about it. I don’t believe I’d be a good mate to you if I forced myself to stay here.” He brushes my hair back from my face, gentle despite his extraordinary strength. “And I cannot ask you to hunt and track with me. It’s not a good life for a human, especially not in winter.”
I don’t argue with him. First of all, I don’t think he’s ready for me to change his mind…and second, he’s right. I have no wish to live in snow shelters or camp in the wilderness. While I like the woods well enough, especially since most of the medicinal plants I gather grow there, I prefer a cozy home with a hearth—or thermal spring heating, which is how the clan survives in the Hill.
The house I grew up in was such a place, and I wish I could return, but every day, I let go of the dream a little more. It’s terrible, what happened, but I’m alive, and with Korr, I could rebuild my life. While my heart still pangs for everything I lost, I know that most things were just that—things, items that can be replaced. And I’ll always have my memories.
I do wish I could spend more time with Korr, but I could never demand that he should stay with me. I saw exactly how horrible it is for him to be here for long stretches of time.
“I can be happy,” I say, referring to what he asked earlier. “I am happy.”
He draws back and studies me, his dark eyes serious. “I will figure this out.” He presses a kiss to my lips, and it has the weight of a promise. “Fate surprised me when she put you on my path. I was not prepared to take a mate. But I will do what I can to fix this, Ivy. I swear it.”
I quirk my lips up. “We’ll do it together.” I snuggle deeper into his embrace and close my eyes. “Promise you’ll wake me before you leave?”
Korr draws the covers over us and murmurs into my hair, “I promise.”
We fall into a rhythm over the next weeks. I try to go out on a hunt with him, I do, but it’s miserable and cold, and because I’m not a skilled tracker, my crunching footsteps in the snow scare away the game we’re following. Korr tells me again and again that it doesn’t matter, that I’ll learn eventually, and I promise to do my best, but we both understand that I’m keeping him from doing his job while also missing out on the opportunity to do mine.
So we compromise, both working during the days and tangling in our bed at night. Korr even manages to sleep with me for several hours each evening before his nightmares wake him and he has to leave, but he always nudges me awake and kisses me, letting me know how difficult it is for him to go. He leaves me little presents here and there, a wrapped parcel of dried figs, a small carved fox he must have made himself. They all serve to remind me that he’s thinking of me even when he’s not here.
I wish I could help him, but I’ve never heard of anyone who’d ever been cured from an affliction like that, and besides, I don’t want Korr to think he needs to change in any way for me to love him.
Because I do. I haven’t mustered the courage to say the words to him, especially because he hasn’t said them again, but every day, I fall deeper, opening more of my heart to him.
I should tell him the truth about myself, I know that. But I’m still afraid that I’ll get thrown out or worse if it comes to light. Orcs in this Hill are kind, but I’ve seen no other magic users, and I’m afraid. I don’t want to ruin everything. If I thought that losing my house and home once was bad, it’s nothing compared to how much it would hurt to lose Korr. I have no need to use my measly gift, because we always have a lantern burning, and besides, what good would that do? With my ancestors’ blood already so diluted, the chance of me passing the magic down to our children is almost null.
Our children.
We haven’t talked about those again. I drink my tea every day, and when my courses come, I’m spoiled again by Korr who arranges for all my meals to be brought to our room. But I find that I miss him even more if I’m only lying in our bed, surrounded by his familiar, heady scent. So I make my way to the infirmary with the help of my map, where Taris scowls at me until I promise to hold down the fort and pick one of the empty cots to rest in.
All the while, I think of how Korr and I could be together more without compromising my work with Taris and his as the king’s best hunter. But nothing presents itself, not without changing who we are.
My assignments with the orc healer get progressively more difficult the more she starts to trust me, and I relish the challenge, wishing to prove myself useful. We visit Dawn, where Taris lets me check the queen for proof that her pregnancy is progressing nicely, and we all stay for tea in the king’s grand chambers. It’s wonderful to have friends again, something I missed dearly in the past year since my husband’s death—since I severed the ties even with Jasmine, my only friend, for fear that our connection might mean the rumors about me would taint her reputation, too.
I’m alone in the infirmary one afternoon, counting down the hours until dinner, when the door opens and Marut strides in.
“Hello, Taris,” he begins, then stops at the sight of me. “Oh. What are you doing here?”
His voice turns from pleasant to hostile in a matter of seconds, his shoulders straightening as he draws himself up to his full height.
I stand from the cot where I’d been folding freshly washed and pressed bandages. “She’s gone to visit a patient,” I explain. “I’m more than happy to help, though.”
As much as I dislike my new brother-in-law’s manners, I won’t sink to the same level. I’m working now, so our personal dislikes must be pushed aside, even if Marut is scowling at me as if he wishes to incinerate me on the spot.
Taris would be proud of how professional I’m being.
“I need no help from you,” he growls.
“I am a healer,” I insist, stepping forward. Then I compose myself and clench my hands tightly in front of me, trying to keep calm. “I would help you if you let me. But you can also wait here until Taris returns. She shouldn’t be long.”
I’m most impressed with myself. My voice doesn’t sound at all strained.
“I will return later for the healer.” Marut turns on his heels and reaches for the door again.
“Why do I bother you so much?” I blurt the words, then immediately wish I could take them back. I don’t need to be liked by this orc. Whatever is going on is his issue.
But he’s Korr’s only brother. His closest relative. And I can’t stand that they’re at odds with each other. I’d do anything to be able to talk to my parents again—and if I had a sibling, I’m sure I would feel the same about them, too.
Marut pauses, then glares at me over his shoulder. “He doesn’t deserve a mate.”
I gape at him, struck by the viciousness of his words. “How-how can you say that?”
Korr is the kindest, sweetest, most attentive orc. He takes good care of me, and he hasn’t done anything to warrant such disdain. I feel safe in his arms for the first time since my parents passed away.
Marut scoffs. “He is always running away.” He motions with his hand. “Look at you. All alone. Where is he to protect you?”
With one last disgusted shake of his head, he leaves, slamming the door behind him.
He doesn’t know.
It’s impossible. If he knew why Korr had to leave the Hill every day, surely he’d understand. But I can’t tell him. Not without Korr’s permission. If he hasn’t told him all these years, I can’t be the one to bridge that gap between them.
Still, that night, after Korr kisses me all over to convince himself I’m comfortable despite not spending all day in bed, I snuggle in his arms and say, “I met your brother.”
Korr’s muscles lock around me. “Did you.”
It’s not a question—or an invitation to speak more on the topic, but we need to discuss this.
“Twice,” I say. “He’s very unpleasant.”
Korr lifts himself on an elbow and scowls down at me. “What did he do?”
I put a palm to his naked chest, soothing. “Nothing. He did say some things that had me wondering about your relationship, though.”
After a moment, Korr lets out a deep sigh and rolls to his back. “What relationship? We don’t speak, we don’t spend time together. I have more in common with almost every other orc in this Hill.”
The sadness in his voice gets to me. I sit next to him in bed and finger-comb his hair, then take a section of the long tresses to make into a thin braid. Korr closes his eyes, humming softly, and I know he enjoys this small comfort.
“He thinks you’re running away,” I say quietly.
Korr snaps his eyes open. “What?”
I lean in to kiss the frown lines on his forehead. “It’s just something he said.” I don’t want to repeat the words that Marut chose because I don’t want Korr to think I agree with any of the accusations. “I only think you might want to tell him why you need to leave every day. Why you’re never here.”
“He should know,” Korr growls. “He’s the one who made me this way.”
“Yes,” I agree. “But that doesn’t mean he’s not thick-headed and stubborn and blind to the truth.”
That brings a smile to Korr’s lips, so I duck down again and kiss him on the mouth this time. He nearly manages to distract me into forgetting my reason for starting this conversation.
“I know you don’t like how strained your relationship is, and he’s clearly upset that you’re away so much,” I say, “but neither of you is willing to set things right?”
Korr’s smile disappears. “He should be apologizing to me.”
He has a point. I can’t argue with him on that.
“Do you think talking to him would help?” I ask in a last-ditch effort to change things.
Korr grabs me by the hips and lifts me onto his body until I’m stretched out on top of him.
“No,” he says. “It would not help. The last time I tried to talk to him, he punched me in the face, and the king told us that if he sees us so much as looking at each other wrong, we’d be spending the night in the dungeon.”
“There’s a dungeon?” I want to argue my point some more, but Korr is so warm, and I’m so tired after a long day. “Is anyone locked up?”
Korr covers us with blankets, then wraps his arms around me. “The king kept his brother in there for several months, but I think I saw Charan in the great hall the other day, so I’m not certain what happened with that.”
Gods. What is it with brothers in this Hill? If even the king imprisoned his own brother, I might be expecting the impossible trying to convince Korr and Marut to bury the hatchet.
