In my life, I haven’t had the opportunity to sleep in many inns, so I don’t know how high this one ranks compared to others, but I’m impressed by the three-story structure and its many glass windows, all radiating a soft orange light. Wren gazes at it from my arms, her hands clasped around my neck. She’s happy and alert, bouncing with things to tell me. Ozork had bundled her up in the back of his wagon when the weather had turned foul, and she’d spent most of the thunderstorm listening to his stories.
As Vark mentioned, we’re not the only ones in the courtyard. A party of horsemen must have arrived just before us, apparently traveling in the opposite direction, toward Ultrup. Four horses in total, tired and steaming slightly as they cool down in the yard.
One of them, a bulky man with broad shoulders, looks up as we clamber from our wagons, and sneers. “You’re not going to let that green filth into your inn, are you?” he asks the tall, thin innkeeper who steps through the door, as if he’d been waiting inside for everyone to dismount.
I can’t see the orcs’ faces well in the dim light, but the tension in their bodies tells me enough—they’re waiting for the innkeeper to send us away, back into the rain, in order to accommodate his human customers.
“I’m so sorry, sir,” the innkeeper says, straightening his back. “But all our rooms are full. These orc merchants had a prior reservation. I’ve been expecting them.”
The man curses and splutters. Clearly, he’s used to getting his own way, and staying out in the rain wasn’t a part of his plan. I glance over at Vark. He winks at me but remains quiet, his hands clasped behind his back. The other orcs also seem to be doing their best to appear nonthreatening, keeping their hands off their weapons belts.
The enraged horsemen mount their steeds once more and tear out of the inn’s courtyard and into the night.
“I do dislike people like that,” the innkeeper mutters. Then turns to us. “Welcome back, Ozork, son of Bram, and your company.”
We file through the door, out of the rain and into the spacious candlelit entryway. Ozork and the innkeeper converse quietly, and gold exchanges hands. I push my hand into my pocket, feeling the gold coin I stole from Vark. This inn is likely way too expensive for Wren and me, but I’ll pay whatever I need to in order to get her out of the rain. I’d wanted to save that gold mark for another time, but if we can get a hot bath here, it might be worth paying extra. I’ll have to talk to the innkeeper after dinner, see if they might need help in the kitchen in exchange for a room for the night.
“Did you really have a reservation?” I whisper to Vark, who’s now playing a game of peek-a-boo with Wren.
She giggles, darting around Korr’s legs while Vark pretends to have lost her in the cramped room.
“We didn’t,” he replies quietly, “but Ozork has been coming through here for close to a decade. He knows the owner, and the man knows we pay well and keep to ourselves.” He leans down, snatches Wren by the waist, and lifts her in the air so she nearly touches the ceiling. “Aha! I caught a little mouse.”
I can’t help but smile as she snorts with laughter, her cheeks flushed pink. She’s been gaining some much-needed color in her face these past days, and with good food and enough rest, she seems to be thriving. Some of the worry and fear I’ve been living with for four years eases away. It doesn’t disappear completely, I don’t think it ever will, but maybe this is good for her.
I’ve done my best, but I’m only one person, and she needs more for a happy, fulfilled life. My old crew was never going to fill that void for us. They weren’t people who wanted to help each other. Timo had banded us together from a desire to get even more profit, and we’d stuck with him for the same reasons—and because it was safer to be in a gang than to go out on your own. But now, for the first time since we escaped, I let myself imagine what kind of a life I’d want for her—for us—if I could have anything I wanted.
I want us to be safe.
That’s the first thing that pops into my mind, and it’s imperative. I really don’t want to trade one insecure situation with another.
Do I feel safe with these orcs?
I glance at Vark, currently holding Wren on his hip. She yawns widely, then lays her blonde head on his shoulder. My heart twists—in longing, not in pain.
Another thought comes to me, rapid and powerful.
I want us to have a family.
I don’t remember much about my parents, or my life before they passed away and I was sent to the orphanage in Ultrup. But I’d seen families around, and I’d always been jealous. There were bad ones, certainly, but from time to time, I’d see one that had my stomach clenching in yearning. A family with carefree, well-fed children and parents who held hands in the street.
Maybe Vark is the answer to that wish. And maybe he isn’t. It’s a lot of expectation to put on a male I only met a couple of days ago. But it’s more the entire orc company that has me wishing I could extend this forever—being on the road, everyone having their duties, and the feeling that I’m contributing to the good of all.
All of it might change when we arrive at this Hill they’re all so eager to return to. What if we get to our destination and there won’t be any work for me? As much as I claim I can learn any task quickly, they might not need another hungry mouth to feed—or two, rather.
But would Vark string me along, offering me a place to stay, if he suspected there wasn’t room for me? I don’t think so. He seems to be an honorable male. Everything he has done so far has been to help us. It’s terrible that I can’t trust him completely—but I’m beginning to see that the issue lies with me, not him.
“Are you all right?” he asks, peering down into my face. “You’re so pale.”
I nod quickly and duck my head. “I’m just tired,” I lie.
He frowns, probably because he knows I had a good night’s sleep and a nap during the ride, but before he can say anything, the innkeeper throws open the door to the main taproom.
“Wipe your boots on the mat, please, or my wife will be upset,” he intones in a jolly voice. “And since my mission in life is to make my wife happy, I will stand here and check each and every one of you.”
I can’t help but smile. Now that the business part is over, he turns into a friendly, welcoming man eager to make sure we’ve got all the comforts we need. He ushers us through the spacious taproom, which is filled with small groups of travelers and some locals, to a private dining parlor down the hall.
Minutes after we settle in, the serving maids arrive with platters of food—a feast, just for us. There’s roast lamb and potatoes, honey-glazed carrots and soft bread rolls, round green sprouts braised in bacon fat, and baked apples like the one Ozork served me the other day.
Wren stares at the spread with wide eyes, her rosebud mouth dropping open. Then she glances up at me, fear and hunger warring in her expression.
“Is this for us, Mama?” she whispers.
I catch Vark’s gaze from across the table. He’s frowning at my daughter, not displeased but worried.
“Yes, baby,” I tell Wren. “Go ahead.”
Her hand darts out, and she snatches up a bread roll, biting into it with relish. I put a bit of everything on her plate, making sure she’s eating vegetables, not just bread. She grimaces at the taste of the sprouts but inhales the carrots, so I deem my duty as a parent complete and let her have two of the sweet, nut-crusted biscuits that the last of the maids has brought in.
I take bites of food, focusing more on Wren than anything else. Vark nudges my boot with his under the table and motions for me to pass him my plate. Confused, I hand it over, and he returns it a minute later, heaped with meat and vegetables.
“You must eat,” he says, then watches me until I start on my meal.
It’s a little overbearing—but I know he’s only concerned about me. For orcs, food seems to be an important element of their culture, which doesn’t surprise me at all. It takes a lot of fuel to keep bodies like theirs going, and they seem to relish well-prepared meals.
By the time we finish eating, the table is almost empty. A sense of contentment fills the room, with quiet conversation flowing easily. Korr mops up the sauce from the lamb roast with a bit of bread, and Ritta snags the last of the baked apples.
“Is everyone done?” The innkeeper returns, rubbing his hands together. “We’ve set up tubs in the bath house for you if you want to clean up. If not, I can show you to your room.”
“Room?” I whisper to Vark. “Just the one?”
Vark huffs. “It seems that the man wasn’t lying. The inn is full. He only had one large room left, so Ozork arranged for enough cots to be set up in it.” He nudges me gently, his smile wry. “Not exactly what we had planned, hey?”
“No.” I return his grin. “But I don’t mind sticking with you all.”
Knowing that a group of skilled orc warriors is guarding me and my daughter even in this human inn will definitely mean I’ll sleep more easily tonight.
He gives me an approving look. “Good. Now you and Wren go ahead.”
I cock my head to the side. “What do you mean?”
“Well, unless you want to bathe in the company of naked orcs…?” He lets the question trail away, raising his eyebrow.
“No,” I say quickly. “We’ll, um, get cleaned up.”
Vark offers me a wicked smile, and I blush, ducking my head. At some point in the future, I might want a bath with him. But it’s still so early, whatever is building between us. I don’t know how much I can expect from him.
Wren and I follow the innkeeper out of the dining parlor and down the hall toward the back of the building. He directs us through a door that’s slightly warped with damp, and we find ourselves standing in front of three copper tubs, each one large enough to sit two adult people. A merry fire burns in the grate, heating the room.
“We’ve filled all three,” the innkeeper says, “but there’s more hot water waiting over the fire.”
“Thank you,” I reply. Then I remember something. “Is there a place I could wash our clothes? We’ve been on the road for a while…”
I trail off, motioning to my stiff tunic and Wren’s stained coat.
The innkeeper offers me a smile that’s tinged with a touch of pity. “Of course. Leave the clothes in a heap outside, and one of the maids will have them ready for you by morning. We’ll find both of you something to wear in the meantime.”
“No,” I hurry to say, “that’s all right, I can wash them.”
I don’t want to pay extra for work I can easily do myself. I’ll pay our share for the room and the food, but if I can make that gold mark stretch farther, I’ll do it. No use squandering the money.
“It’s all been taken care of,” the innkeeper says, already heading for the door. “You don’t have to worry about any of that. I’ll be back to deliver a change of clothes for you, miss.”
With that, he’s gone, closing the door softly behind him. As I walk up to it and flick the latch closed to give us privacy, my heart thunders painfully. The orcs have paid for us. They paid for everything, it seems, including the luxury of having our clothes washed by someone else.
I fix a determined smile on my face to combat the sweet pressure in my chest. To say I’m unused to thoughtful gestures is an understatement, and I don’t want Wren to think anything is wrong.
“All right, little mouse,” I say, taking up Vark’s nickname for her. “Let’s get clean.”
We dump the dirty, smelly clothes in a heap in front of the door, and I help Wren climb into the tub. She’s barely tall enough to keep her head above water and seems scared at first, then relaxes as the warm water performs its magic. I climb in after her, sighing when I sink in up to my chin. It’s been so long since I last had a bath like this—and never one so carefree.
I remove the bandage on my hand and gasp as I reveal what was an open gash just this morning. The skin on my palm has healed over, the scar pink and shiny, but looking days, not hours old. I run my fingertips over it, marveling. It appears that Ozork was telling the truth. There was a touch of fae magic in the ointment Vark had smeared on my wound.
I didn’t set out from the only life I knew to search for magic or fairies or massive orc warriors, but I can’t say I’m not enjoying this new world Wren and I have stumbled into. I wonder what else we’ll discover on this trip.
We scrub ourselves with the homemade soap, rinsing our skin. I wash Wren’s hair and detangle it with a bone comb I find on the windowsill. I let her splash around, pink-cheeked, as I wash my short hair, lathering it twice and dunking myself in the water to rinse it out. Finally, we emerge from the tub, dripping water all over the floor. I locate a stack of folded bath sheets on a shelf. Wrapped in one, I peer out the door and find that our dirty clothes have disappeared, and in their place, someone had left a replacement outfit for both of us.
I pick them up and bring them inside. “Hey, it’s a nightgown for you.”
I hold out the small linen shift for Wren, and she gasps in delight. It’s worn, as if it’s been washed many times, but it’s pretty, the collar stitched with a flowery pattern. I help Wren put it on, then hand her a pair of thick woolen socks that the kind person who brought these has also thought of.
The nightgown they left for me is soft to the touch, made of good-quality linen, and I sigh in contentment as I let it fall over my body. It’s loose in the chest—whoever it was made for must have a more ample bust than me—and a bit short, only reaching the middle of my shins, but it’ll do. It’s clean and smells of soap.
As I pull on my pair of woolen socks, I mull over the idea that I should purchase these clothes tomorrow morning. Wren and I will need them. We left Ultrup in a hurry, and I didn’t want to be burdened down with any unnecessary items in case we had to make a run for it. But now that our plan is to spend the winter at the orc Hill, things are different.
We step into our boots, and I pick up a very sleepy Wren and unlock the door. The hallway is empty, but I follow the low voices of the orcs back to the dining parlor. When we enter the room, everyone turns to look at us.
“We’re done.” I hold Wren closer to my chest to hide the fact that I’m wearing nothing under the nightgown.
A chair scrapes over the wooden floor. Vark stands and closes the distance between us. He looms over me, his gaze dark. Now that I no longer smell of my own dirty clothes, I scent the whiff of horses and mud on him, mixing with that exquisite aroma that seems to be coming off his skin. I can’t help but smile at him, because for once, I’m the cleaner one.
“I’ll take you up to our room,” he rumbles.
Wren waves to the orc company, and they all wish her goodnight. The way they indulge her is sweet, and my throat clogs again at the thought of them becoming our family. I want it so badly, it hurts—and they’re just being kind. Their behavior has nothing to do with us, really. They’re decent people who would have taken in anyone who needed their help.
Vark steps past me and out into the hall, and I swallow the lump in my throat and follow, shaking my head at my own silliness. Whatever affection they have to give, I’ll take it, but I won’t demand more—that would be taking advantage of them. It’s the same with Vark. No matter how much I crave his touch, I’ll let him take the lead on this.
We climb the wooden staircase to the second floor, and Vark leads us down the corridor to the room at the very end. He pushes open the door and has to duck his head to go through—he’s too tall for human houses.
“It’s somewhat cramped.” He motions for me to come inside. “We all agreed Wren should have the bed in the far corner, and will you take the cot next to it?” He frowns, inspecting the room. “Will this be sufficient for you?”
The room is wide, and after a quick count, I realize there are enough cots for all the orcs and the two of us—so Wren can have her own for the first time in her life.
I smile up at him. “It’s perfect.”
I put Wren on the floor, and she hurries over to her bed, crawling onto it and burrowing under the sheets.
“I like it,” she announces in her soft voice.
Vark flashes her a grin and says, “I need to talk to your mama for a moment. Will you be all right in here if we’re just outside the door?”
Wren nods, then turns to fluff her pillow. I blow her a kiss and follow Vark to the hallway.
“What is it?” I ask. “Did you—?”
He cups the back of my neck and kisses me. I gasp in surprise, and he takes that opportunity to slide his tongue into my mouth, carnal and insistent. A blaze ignites in me, a pulsing, shimmering desire, and I return his kiss with all I have, clenching my fists in Vark’s tunic. He makes a hungry, desperate sound in his throat and pushes me back until I’m pressed between the wooden wall and the hard, coiled muscle of Vark’s body.
“I’m sorry,” he rasps, trailing kisses over the line of my jaw and down my neck. “I couldn’t wait.”
I wrap my arms around his neck, my tiptoes barely touching the floor. “I know. I want this so much.”
He growls, lifts me entirely off my feet, and palms my ass. “I didn’t think we’d all be rooming together,” he admits. “I’ve had to change my plans for tonight.”
“Your plans?”
“Aye.” He nuzzles my neck, his tusks rasping over my skin. “I wanted you all for myself. I was planning on asking Ritta to watch over Wren for a couple of hours.”
I shiver in delight. “That was a good plan.”
“It was,” Vark agrees. “But I have a different one if you’re up for it.”
I lean back, meeting his gaze. “I’m listening.”
“You put Wren to bed, Ritta takes over the first watch, which she’d already agreed to do, and you join me in the stables.”
My eyebrows climb up. “The stables?”
“We’ve spent a night here not long ago, and the entire inn had been booked. They sometimes let people sleep in the hayloft,” Vark says, his voice growing quieter by the moment. Then he lowers his chin, sighing. “I am a fool.”
I frown, then take his chin and tip his face up.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have suggested that. I’m offering my mate a roll in the hay like I was some sixteen-year-old lad eager to get his dick wet for the first time.” He touches his forehead to mine. “Forgive me.”
He’s so adorably flustered, my heart flutters at the sight of him. His cheeks turn a deeper shade of green, and his broad shoulders droop.
I palm both of his cheeks, forcing his gaze back to me.
“I will join you in the stables,” I tell him, letting him know I’m serious. “I think it’s a wonderful idea.”
He kisses me again, a short, hungry kiss, then sets me gently on the floor. “Thank you.”
I glance down at myself, at the borrowed nightgown. “I’ll ask the innkeeper if he has a coat I could use.”
Vark shrugs out of his cloak and hands it to me. “Here. I will wait for you.”
I accept the heavy garment, folding it in my arms, and watch him leave. I don’t have the heart to tell him that his cloak will be entirely too big for me.
I let out a trembling exhale, shaking from a heady mixture of worry, anticipation, and need.
I return to the bedroom and find Wren lying in her bed, awake and waiting for me. As I brush back her hair, I consider not going to Vark because I don’t want to ruin this. If things don’t work out, will Wren and I even have a place at the Hill?
I think we will.
Vark is not the kind of male who would go back on his word, and besides, Ozork, Ritta, and the rest of their group would shelter us if all went to shit.
Singing softly to Wren, I wrestle with my thoughts. Finally, a hard, definitive truth emerges from the muck.
I can’t not go. Not because I feel like I owe Vark anything—nothing as grimy as that. It’s that I want this for myself. I want his hands on me, his gaze burning up as he makes me shatter again. I need to find out what he has in store for me, and I want to reciprocate every ounce of pleasure he wrings from my body. To see him fall apart under my hands…that’s why I’ll be going to him.
Wren falls asleep, her breaths deepening. I kiss her forehead and tuck the blanket around her, my heart full. She’s finally safe enough to rest through the night, and good people will watch over her.
Whatever happens tonight, I’m glad we found this. That Wren will know a better childhood from now on.
Only time will tell what I will gain from this—and what I’ll have to give to make it work. But for tonight, I’ll suspend all worries and fears and give myself permission to let go.
