Korr shuffles backward until he hits the wall of the cell, then twists violently, looking this way and that. He turns again, and his foot catches the platter of food, sending the apples rolling over the floor and the platter crashing over. At the noise, Korr flinches, then sits heavily on the cot, his head in his hands.
My heart breaks at the sight of him, at the realization that this is hurting him so much. I don’t know what else to do, so I sit next to him and wrap my arms around his waist, giving him as much support as I can. Korr grabs me roughly by the hips and pulls me onto his lap once more. He buries his face in my neck and takes his first deep inhale in what seems like hours, then remains there, his big body shuddering around me.
He’s holding me too tightly, his grip bruising, but I don’t say anything. I’ll never move if this is what gets him through the night.
From the corner of my eye, I see Marut walk around the cell, picking up the apples. He rights the platter, sets it to the side, and places the fruit on it.
Then he takes his seat on the floor opposite us and asks, “What’s wrong?”
His voice is hesitant, with none of the jeering undertone he’d used earlier, but Korr laughs hoarsely.
“The fucking nerve,” he rasps. “It’s your fault, you bastard.”
Marut flinches back at the venom in his brother’s voice. “What?”
But Korr just shakes his head, his uneven breathing hot on my neck.
“You really don’t know?” I ask, unable to hold back.
Marut scowls. “Know what?”
Korr’s grip on me tightens, but he doesn’t say anything to stop me, so I take that as permission to continue. Maybe it’s time we figure this out once and for all.
“You locked Korr in a cellar when you were little,” I say. “Remember?”
“Aye,” Marut growls. “I remember. Our father whipped me bloody the next day for it because Korr told on me.”
That has Korr lifting his head, finally. “I never told anyone.”
Marut scoffs. “Then how did he find out?”
“I don’t know.” Korr shrugs. “Suppose it wasn’t hard to guess. We weren’t exactly subtle about the pranks we played.”
At that, his brother purses his lips. “All right, say I believe you. What does that have to do with this?”
I look at my mate, but he only closes his eyes. His skin is cold and clammy to the touch, when just minutes earlier, he was hot and sweating. This isn’t good.
“He’s…”
I don’t want to use the word afraid, because I think Korr would hate it—and because this is so much more than fear. It’s a deep-rooted aversion to being trapped inside.
“He can’t stand being underground,” I say finally. “The darkness…”
“It’s not the darkness,” Korr growls. “I’m all right in the forest at night. It’s the thought that I might never get out.”
“What do you mean?” Marut asks.
“It feels…” Korr shudders, then clears his throat and starts again. “It feels as if the walls are closing in on me. As if this Hill will collapse on top of me any moment now and bury me alive.” He clenches his hand around mine. “And now my mate is here, I fear for her, too.”
“I didn’t know that,” I whisper, trying my hardest to blink back my tears. “I-I had no idea you were worried about me.”
He palms my cheek and strokes his thumb over it to swipe away the wetness coating them. “Of course I worry. Every day, I have to leave or risk hurting you or myself, and all the time, I wonder if you’ll still be here when I return.”
I press my forehead to his and urge him to breathe with me.
“So that’s why you’re always gone so much?”
We both turn to Marut, who is watching us with something like dismay on his face.
He shuffles closer and adds, “Is that why you’re always volunteering for trips and off hunting in the forest?”
Korr lets out a long sigh, then simply says, “Aye.”
Marut’s voice goes raspy when he asks, “Is there anything that helps?”
I glance at the door. “Light does. But the guards wouldn’t leave us a lantern.”
“So you weren’t asking for yourself earlier?” Marut presses.
“No.” I glare at him, though I’m surprised that he hasn’t tried to make fun of Korr yet. “It’s nice to do good things for other people. You should try it sometime.”
Korr lets out a small chuckle. “You’re so fierce, little witch. But you help as well.”
He buries his face in my neck again and huffs deeply.
“The fates knew what they were doing,” Marut murmurs, half to himself.
I frown at him. “What?”
He lifts one eyebrow. “You can light up my brother’s world.”
I jolt in Korr’s lap, a thrill going through me. I haven’t used my power in his presence yet, too afraid of what it would mean. We’d always had a lantern to chase away the darkness in our room, so I never needed to reveal myself.
But now, I glance at Korr and see the raw hope in his eyes.
I would do anything to help him.
Closing my eyes, I drag air into my lungs and exhale slowly. The shimmering light in my chest isn’t as strong as usual—I’d used up some of the magic earlier today in that corridor and haven’t had a chance to rest yet. But I focus on bringing it forward, on pouring it from the core of my being toward my hands.
It responds sluggishly, but when I nudge it again, it flows more easily, and when I open my eyes, there it is, a little glowing orb in my palm.
“Ivy,” Korr breathes. “It’s beautiful.”
His handsome face is illuminated by the pale-yellow glow, and now that I can see properly, I note how ashen his skin has become. He’s unwell, and I don’t think my little light will save him.
We only have to hold out for a day, but I think even that might be too long.
“It’s gold,” Marut says suddenly.
I tear my gaze away from Korr and glance at him. “Hmm?”
“The corridor you stumbled into,” he says. “It leads to a vein of pure gold.”
“Marut!” Korr snaps.
But his twin only stares up at us. “What? She deserves to know.”
Korr swipes his hand over his sweaty face. “Aye, she does, but the king has to allow it.”
A muscle twitches in Marut’s jaw, but he only says, “And now I’m the one at fault.”
I glance from one to the other, curiosity rising. “Really? A vein of gold?”
“We suspect the Hill was built around it by whoever discovered it,” Korr tells me, apparently resigned to the idea that I now know. “It’s how we fund…everything.”
Thinking of the prosperity I’ve seen since joining the Black Bear Clan, I wonder how I could have missed it. But the orcs aren’t flashy with their wealth. They live quiet, content lives, safe inside the Hill, and no one goes without.
“I had no idea,” I admit. “I never heard any rumors in the village.”
“That’s by design,” Korr says. “If anyone—humans or another orc clan—found out, they’d do anything to wrestle it away from us.”
Marut adds, “We are a small clan. Our warriors are fierce, but other kingdoms are much larger.”
“I understand,” I say quietly. “That’s why you couldn’t tell me.”
Korr brushes a kiss to my temple. “Aye. I wanted to, but the king forbids it.” Then he adds in a dry tone, “Of course, some orcs don’t care about royal orders, it seems.”
But Marut only rolls his eyes. “I was trying to do something nice. Your mate said I should try.”
I grin, happiness blooming in my chest. I’d doubted King Gorvor’s decision to leave Korr and Marut locked in a cell together, but maybe he had a point.
I only wish he hadn’t left, because from what I see, a couple of hours was all we needed to make things right. I don’t believe for a second the brothers will stop bickering or that this is the end of their issues, but they’ve made progress, and now Korr needs to get out of here.
Only I have no idea how to achieve that.
The light in my palm flickers, and I sway on Korr’s lap. He peers into my face, concern etched into his features.
“Ivy?” he asks. “What’s the matter?”
“Uh, nothing,” I say, the words slurring slightly. “I’m all right.”
He takes me by the shoulders, supporting me, and the jostling movement breaks my focus. The glow between us gutters, then goes out completely.
“Oh, no,” I whisper. “Sorry. I’ll try again.”
I scrunch up my eyes and reach for that shimmer inside me, but it’s gone so pale and faint, I can’t even scoop it up anymore. The more I try, the farther it sinks inside me. It’s beyond my reach. Anguish envelops me at the thought that I won’t be able to help Korr anymore, so I lunge for it, but all it does is slip through my fingers. Blackness closes in, dimming the light even further. My limbs feel heavy, my head fuzzy with regret.
