It turns out that Korr isn’t the only orc to get restless in the long, dark winter. But where he’s content with going into the snowy woods every day to hunt for whatever game he can find, the rest of the clan puts on an indoor tournament.
Mara has been preparing for the event for weeks, and I’ve been helping Taris assemble the essentials for the inevitable aftermath. She hasn’t yet told me where she gets her secret healing balm, but she trusts me enough to set up a stall in the great hall where the injured participants will be able to get their cuts and bruises treated. I stock up on bandages, soap, and clean, warm water, and she brings a basket with several jars of the salve that saved my life all those weeks ago.
I’ve been here for almost two months, and winter is nearly over. I’m longing to see the forest burst to life once more—and it feels good knowing that I might soon be able to spend more time with Korr in the woods, gathering the early medicinal plants while he sets his traps.
But today, even Korr remained inside. He’s participating in the tournament, and all the warriors of the clan have gathered in the hall where the long tables and benches have been pushed back to make room for the arena.
“We have a training hall,” Poppy says, perched on a stool next to mine. “But it’s much too small to hold the entire clan.”
She waves at her mate, Steagor, who sends her a heated look from inside the fenced space, right before he faces his opponent, an orc several years older than him with a scarred face.
“That’s Ozork he’s fighting,” she says. “I hope they won’t pummel each other too badly. This is only the warm-up.”
Everyone not participating in the fights has put on their best outfits. I press my hands to my lovely red wool dress, a recent purchase I made in Poppy’s workshop. Taris has been paying me a weekly wage, and because I have nothing else to spend my money on, I’ve been working on incorporating more color in our lives.
The women of the Hill have helped me embrace the idea that I can do what I want here, that I don’t need to worry about other people’s opinions. This red dress is my first step to showing the world who I am.
Still, I’m startled to see many women join the fights, warriors dressed in leathers. They’re not only fighting amongst themselves, either, but facing off much larger male opponents.
“Women are participating today, too?” I ask Taris.
She scowls down at me, unimpressed. “Why shouldn’t they fight?”
I blink at her. “Oh. Uh, of course, there’s no reason for them not to, but…” I point at where a young female warrior is circling Neekar, both holding long wooden staffs. Orc women are taller than humans, yet she’s slighter than her adversary. “How is that a fair fight?”
Taris lets out a long sigh. “First of all, when is a fight ever fair? How often does a warrior face an opponent who is exactly their equal? One might be attacked by several, a woman by a man, a child by an adult.” She moves one of the jars she’d set on the tabletop so they’re all neatly aligned. “Combat doesn’t care about fair.”
I study her, wondering at the sad tone of her voice. I want to ask her about it, but she clears her throat and crosses her arms over her ample chest.
“Besides,” she says, “look at them. Ritta is toying with Neekar, letting him think he has the upper hand.” She shakes her head. “That male has a ways to go before he’s ready to face real battle.”
I turn to watch the pair. The woman, Ritta, suddenly charges, getting past Neekar’s admittedly sloppy defense, and slams the butt of her staff into his ribs. He stumbles back, winded, then attacks with more determination, but she fends off every heavy blow with ease while a group of younger orcs stomp their feet on the other side of the fence and chant her name.
Her very own club of admirers.
Then I notice a one-eyed orc warrior facing a slender human woman with short black hair. Her weapons belt bristles with knives, and she advances on the warrior with surprising speed for a human, throwing blades at him in quick succession. But he plucks them all straight out of the air, then catches her by the waist.
I’m about to complain to Taris that surely this fight is uneven, but the orc disarms his opponent with practiced movements. She wraps her legs around his waist, and I think she’s preparing to attack again, but instead she kisses him right there in the tournament ring while he palms her ass with both hands.
Well.
The main thing I notice is that everyone—from the warriors to the elderly to the children and everyone in between—is having great fun. There are stalls with baked goods, stalls with fruit, and countertops shaking under the weight of weapons all lined side by side, and somehow, it works perfectly. One big feast where everyone in the clan cooperates.
Everyone but Marut, that is. Korr’s brother is absent, and I can’t find him either in the battle arena or among the spectators.
But I don’t have the time to search for him or think about why he’s absent, because Korr walks onto the field and takes his place across from Uram, a large warrior whose mate, Rose, worked at the inn in my village for a short while before she met him. The two males nod at each other, then begin, their long staffs whipping through the air at dangerous speed.
I gasp at every blow, then squeeze my eyes shut when Korr gets hit in the side. But I can’t not look, so I peer through my lashes just in time to see him swipe Uram off his feet. The other warrior rolls back to his feet and grins as if this was perfectly enjoyable, and they go at each other again.
Korr executes a complicated maneuver, then that ends up with him locking Uram’s neck with his arm, their staffs forgotten. They tussle on the floor, and Uram tries to yank Korr’s hair. But I’d braided it tight against his head this morning, then tucked the long braids under his tunic at his instruction, so he can’t get a good grip.
Finally, Uram taps Korr’s arm twice, forfeiting the match, and coughs lightly, his face flushed a deep green. Korr lets him go immediately and offers him a hand to get up. Both are breathing heavily, their clothes dirty from rolling around on the packed-earth floor, but their grins are equally as bright.
“Good job,” Uram says, clapping Korr on the back.
His mate rushes over to check him for injuries, then drags him over to our stall so Taris can treat his split lip with a dab of her healing salve.
“Fool,” Rose mutters. “Didn’t we have enough fighting this winter?”
Uram catches her chin in one big hand. “Aye, but I’m the fool you love, isn’t that right?”
She bats at his chest, but when he kisses her, she melts in his embrace, her arms going around his neck. Then she rears back and clicks her tongue. “Now we’ve rubbed away all the salve. Taris, could we get a bit to take along with us?”
Taris laughs as she puts a dollop in a smaller jar and hands it to Rose. The couple leave, and I try to find Korr to make sure he’s uninjured, but he’s nowhere to be seen.
My heart pangs a little at the realization that he must have left. After watching that one-eyed warrior with his mate, as well as Uram and Rose, I crave some of that closeness for myself. Marut’s cruel words echo in my head.
He is always running away. Look at you. All alone. Where is he to protect you?
Seconds later, I give myself a firm mental slap to chase those thoughts away. If Korr needed to leave, that’s his right. At least he managed to have some fun with his clansmen.
I bandage and splint a twisted finger, quickly sew up a nick one of the youngsters got from playing with throwing knives, and help Taris with half a dozen other tasks. The winners of various disciplines are announced, with Ritta winning the longstaff competition, and ribbons are distributed to each one of them. There aren’t any other prizes, which surprises me until Taris explains that the win itself is enough, and that this tournament is only one of many that will happen over the course of the year because everyone loves them.
I’m clearing up our stall when Korr appears by my side and wraps his arms around me. His skin is chilled, his lips cool when he kisses my neck, then my lips.
“Hello, little witch,” he murmurs.
Taris winks at me and motions that she’ll carry our portable apothecary back to the infirmary. I wave my thanks to her, then focus on my mate.
“You returned,” I say quietly.
With so many orcs around us, I’m reasonably certain no one will hear our conversation, but I still don’t want to mention Korr’s issue so as not to make him uncomfortable.
“I thought you’d spend the night…” I trail off because I have no idea where he’d spend the night if not with me.
He crowds into me and presses me against the wall. “I couldn’t stay away. I only needed a quick breath outside. To see the sky.”
I bite my lip, knowing how much it cost him to come back to me. “Thank you.”
He replies with a kiss, and I return it with all I have, pouring all my emotions into our connection. I tug at his tunic to get him closer, wishing I could crawl inside him and stay there, forever.
Korr drags his hands from my hips to my sides, then moves them as if to cup my breasts, but at a boom of raucous laughter from the crowd, he breaks the contact, growling deeply.
“Fuck, I need to be inside you.” He punctuates the words with a harsh, biting kiss. “But not here. I want you all for myself.”
I stare up at him with wide eyes, then nod. “All right.”
“Meet me at the baths,” he snaps, his gaze on the crowd. “I will grab us something to eat from the kitchens, and maybe we can beat the rush while everyone is still at dinner.”
“Great plan,” I say, going up on my tiptoes to kiss the shell of his ear.
Korr shudders, then pushes himself back. “Go now, or I’ll have you right here, against the wall, and you’ll be screaming my name while everyone watches.”
I stumble over my feet, shocked at the image, but heat rushes to my belly, too, proving how I really feel about Korr’s threat. He groans, no doubt scenting my need, and reaches out for me, but I dance away from him and shoot him a grin over my shoulder.
“Ivy,” he calls after me.
But I don’t want to let him catch me just yet.
“See you there,” I call, then dart into the crowd.
