Honor Among Orcs (Orc Saga) (6 page)

Bolthorn grunted. “Only the Ancestors know what she protected so fiercely.”

“But you know something,” she insisted. “You know what the king wants, now. Surely you have suspicions.”

He searched her face, his lips pressed thin.

“Please, Bolthorn.”

“I cannot tell you how she found this mirror, or what she knew of its workings,” he said slowly.

She sat back upon her heels, busying herself with the food from the basket, that he would not see her disappointment. “I see.”

He made a low noise of frustration and caught her hand upon the bread, ducking his head to meet her gaze. “If she goaded him, as you say, if she chose her death that day rather than give him satisfaction, it is likely she knew something. Of the orcs or the elves, of magic or the mirror, I cannot guess, but knowing what I do of the king, whatever secrets they were, you are all better off for her having kept them.”

“But she did not keep them well enough, it seems.”

Her stomach felt sour and twisted, but she broke the bread and passed him the larger half. His heavy brow fell lower still over his eyes.

“Eat,” she told him, stopping whatever argument he would offer. “You need it more than I do if you’re to heal.”

His thumb brushed her bottom lip. “I am not the only one with wounds to heal, Princess.”

“Yours are much worse than mine.” Though she was not certain it was her bruises he spoke of, and his gentleness confused her. She nodded to the bread, trying to ignore his obvious concern. “I will get a third meal this day.”

And the thought of eating it beside Lord Alviss made her feel sicker still. The bread stuck in her throat. He had not been quite drunk enough, last night, in spite of all her efforts. He had demanded that she bare her body to his roving eyes. Her resistance had earned his ire, along with her torn gown and split lip. What would he ask of her tonight?

“Bring him here,” Bolthorn said. “Let him stumble through the mirror and he will never touch you again.”

“And how will you explain his corpse to the king?”

He shrugged. “He has no understanding of the magic he uses. If the mirror does not stop Lord Alviss your father will think it only some flaw in the weaving.”

She searched his face. “But it wouldn’t be, would it? I would have to be here, to will it.”

Bolthorn met her gaze, steady. “Yes.”

“Why?” she asked. “Why does it obey me?”

“Better that you not know,” he said quietly. “Dangerous enough that you know it does at all while you are still within the king’s power.”

“Oh.” She picked at her bread. “When the king is—is gone, will you tell me?”

He went still beside her, his eyes intent. “You’ve decided to help me.”

She brushed her fingers over his chest, careful not to touch the torn flesh. “Helping you is the only way I will ever be free.”

If only she could will the room to heal him as easily as she passed through the mirror. But even if she could, the king would wonder that his prisoner did not still suffer from his wounds. She could do nothing for Bolthorn but this.

She lifted her gaze to his. “It’s the only way I want to be free.”

He closed his fingers around hers, just for a moment, and let her go. He was nothing like Alviss. Nothing like the king. And it had been so long since anyone but her sister had touched her so gently.

She hadn’t realized how much she had missed it.

He should have been discouraging her, Bolthorn knew. She was human, he was orc. What future did she really have, if she followed him into the mountains? But in the mountains, he could protect her. Guard her from fools and evil men. In the mountains, he could be sure she was safe. He should have been discouraging her, or at least telling her the truth about what it would mean, and instead, he had convinced her to help him murder her own father and abandon her people to the chaos it would leave behind.

Because he had given her his word. Promised no harm would come to her, and she would not let him slip from the vow. He ought to have been angry, disgusted that she had trapped him so neatly. But he could not stand the thought of leaving her in a castle with Lord Alviss, even if the king was dead.

“Perhaps it would be better if we allowed you to be found,” he said, watching her pack up the remains of their basket the next day. She had brought him another meal, given him another taste of freedom outside the mirror, and said nothing at all about the dark circles beneath her eyes. It was clear she was not sleeping well, if at all, and she moved more stiffly than he liked. Because of Alviss, no doubt. “It would be a simple thing to make it look as though you were taken. You could be rescued, returned home to guide your family—”

“Guide my family?” It was the first time she had stared at him as if he were something odd, he realized. She had not even blinked when he had revealed himself that first time, had not hesitated to touch him in kindness. “My brothers will marry me off to ensure the loyalty of some noble as soon as it can be negotiated. And if that fails, and the noble seeks to use me to set himself upon the throne, they will not hesitate to have me killed instead. I will be in no position to guide anyone, nor even to guide myself.”

“You could marshal your own forces among the common people. Raise an army and take the throne for yourself. You have the strength and the bloodline.”

She snorted. “I am a
woman
, Bolthorn. Perhaps among the orcs a woman might rule with the right bloodline, but not among men. Not in Gunnar’s kingdom.”

“It will not be your father’s kingdom much longer, Princess. Why should it not become yours? Why should you not make it yours?”

She shivered, sitting back in a puddle of sunlight beneath the narrow window. In the full light, he could see her eyes at last, warm and dark and only half a shade lighter than her hair. Freshly turned earth, not umber, after all.

“Bad enough to have a part in the king’s death, I have no wish to kill my brothers too. And who would trust a queen so stained by the blood of her own family? I would be no better than him, then.”

He grunted. Making her queen lay too close to the interests of his people, and it was in her interest he wished to guide her, now. She had already promised enough for the orcs. For him.

“There are villages in the foothills,” he offered. “You could live among your people and they need not know who you are.”

“Lord Alviss’s estate is in the foothills.” She turned her face up to the window, staring at the narrow splash of blue sky. It was his first glimpse of the sky since he’d been taken hostage, for the day before he had been in no shape to appreciate it, half-addled by the whipping the king had given him. But all he could see now was the crease of her forehead and the pain in her eyes.

“If he is dead he cannot abuse you.”

She shook her head. “If suffering Lord Alviss is the price I must pay for freedom, so be it. It’s only…” She hugged her knees to her chest, the navy skirt spread around her like the petals of a flower. “I thought you meant to take me with you.”

“I have promised as much already.”

“To the mountains,” she clarified. “Where I would be free. Of all of this.”

“I would.” He had to tell her. Before her eyes lit with joy and he lost the will. Already, relief bloomed through her body, straightening her spine, parting her lips as she leaned forward.

His gaze caught upon them, remembering the feel of her kiss, the gentle touch of her hands. The image of her dressed in leathers rose into his mind. He clenched his jaw, forcing the thoughts away. He would not trap her in the mountains, unknowing.

“There is something you must know, first, Princess.”

Her mouth thinned, her lips pressed firm. Instead of widening with interest, her eyes narrowed with caution. She said nothing, merely waiting.

“Among my people, you would be free. It is a gift within my power to give, and I will see you so honored for the service you have done us. But once we reach the other side, I must close the passage to protect my people.” He watched her face closely, but the only sign of her thoughts was a small line forming between her eyebrows. He forced himself to go on. “If you were unhappy with—”
me
.

He swallowed the word before he frightened her. Before he had no choice but to face the truth of it himself. A week, he had known her. Perhaps a day more. A week, and every meeting between them, it grew harder to imagine a time when they might never see one another again. But it was only his own foolishness, after long months spent alone.

“If you were unhappy among my people, there would be no way for you to return.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“Oh.” It was barely a breath, but he heard it, and how she filled such a small word with so much distress he did not know.

He opened his hand, palm up. “Perhaps—perhaps you could live among the elves, if you wished to leave—”
me
. That word again. Born of isolation and loneliness, nothing more. He closed his hand into a fist, redirecting his thoughts. “It will not be only the orcs who owe you a debt. The elves have no wish to be found by men, either. We are cousins, of a kind, and none would blame you if you found them to be fairer companions.”

“Fairer,” she echoed hollowly, her gaze returning to the window. “And those would be my choices. Remain behind, or go on to the elves.”

“It is a hard life in the mountains,” he said quietly. “Filled with bitter winters spent in darkness. I would not have you trapped among orcs when you might live more easily elsewhere.”

“Of course.” She leaned forward and began sorting the food left in the basket. Dividing it.

He frowned. “It seemed only right that you should know…”

“I didn’t realize you considered me a burden.” She wrapped a generous half of the food inside the netted cheese cloth and set it aside. “Everything you said—was it just to flatter me? To assure yourself of my help before you threw me away? I thought—” Her cheeks burned crimson. “Was it the night before last that changed your mind?”

“Never.” He reached for her hand, but she only shoved the bundled food at him instead.

“Not all wounds mark the skin, Bolthorn!” She rose to her feet and turned away. “Do you know, the king did not even warn me? Lord Alviss stole me away before dinner and backed me up into a wall. No one stopped him. The things he said, they sounded true, but the king—he could have just as easily punished me for believing it as he would for disobedience if I refused.”

“Arianna.”

She spun. “I should never have believed in you.”

The words cut him more deeply than any stroke of her father’s whip, overwhelming the sting of his chest, and he stood tall, his lips curled back. “You think me so cruel? You humans never could trust in anything so ugly as orcs. Because we were so twisted on the outside, you could not imagine anything but monsters in our souls.”

Her face paled, but she raised her chin. “Mirrors only show us what we wish to see. Perhaps your people did not look closely enough to recognize the truth.”

“A monster would not have warned you about your father, nor sheltered you from his wrath,” he growled. “A monster would not chafe knowing that when you leave him, you are being pawed at and he can do nothing to stop it. A monster would leave you here to rot, Princess, no matter how prettily you begged for escape.”

It silenced her, but the pain in her eyes only made him ache. That she could believe him so faithless twisted his heart, leaving him cold. After everything he had done. For nothing, if she could not trust him.

No—not for nothing. He had served his people, even if he had not served her. He still served them, though it comforted him not at all to know it when she looked at him as though he had struck her.

She had no choice but to replace his fetters and chain him again to the wall. Her father had not come to loosen his bonds, and so she did not dare leave him much slack. But even while she seethed, she could not bring herself to bind him too tightly. He stood stiff and straight and proud, watching her as she closed the iron cuffs around his wrists and willed it whole once more. She refused to meet his eyes.

No matter how prettily you begged…

Was that all it was between them? Pity rather than kindness? Desperation and manipulation and nothing more?

She left him inside the mirror and gathered her basket, taking the time to remove all trace of her presence in the tower room—almost habit, now. For a moment, she had believed in something else. She had thought that somehow she had won his respect, his approval. His warmth. For a moment, she had allowed herself to dream of a future built upon trust and freedom.

A foolish dream. They were too different, and she was too weak. He had made that plain with his talk of villages and elves. He did not want her but for the service she might provide him, freeing him from his cage. She was only an obligation upon his honor, a debt to be repaid as quickly as possible, that he might send her on her own way.

Better, she thought, to learn it now, than discover it after they had crossed through the mountains and she had no way of turning back. He probably hoped it would dissuade her, that he might leave her behind earlier on his journey, settled in some sheepfold to satisfy his honor.

She slipped out of the tower and returned to her own room.

It made no difference now if she chose to weep.

A soft touch freed his wrist from the iron. He groaned as the tension on his shoulders eased, nearly falling to his knees. He steadied himself against the wall before he became aware of Arianna beneath his arm, one hand braced against his chest. It was morning. And he had never been so glad to see her as he was in that moment. In the depth of the night, he’d almost convinced himself she would never return after the things he had said. The things they had both said.

“The king?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Not yet.”

She pressed her lips together, glancing back toward the glass and the door beyond.

“He does not often come so soon after he beats me senseless, preferring to let me suffer in the dark for days. Perhaps we will be fortunate again today.” Shadows played strangely around her throat. The shape of a man’s hand. He clenched his jaw. Not shadows, after all.

She moved from beneath his arm, reaching for his other wrist. The iron cuff fell away, and with it, the chains around his ankles dropped loose. He rubbed his wrists and straightened, dropping his gaze from the bruises on her neck. The gown she wore missed its bodice, the satin falling straight to her hips. Wide hips, even hidden. Everything about her spoke of strength. How did she not see it?

“Thank you.”

She lifted her chin. “There will be no moon tomorrow night.”

“Shadow has ever been a friend to me.” He brushed his knuckle over the marks on her neck and she made a soft noise in her throat, turning her face away. “Lord Alviss?”

Her hands balled into fists. “Lord Alviss had the pleasure of seeing me punished twice, but the bruises he leaves are far more deliberately made.”

He swallowed a growl along with his rage. The king would die. A just payment for all she had suffered. But death was too good for Alviss. “Do not go to him.”

“He will give complaint to the king. I will be found, beaten, and delivered.”

“Not if you remain here.” The right words, this time. He grasped for them, held out his hand as if he might give them up. “Let me serve you in this small way.”

Her eyes narrowed. “For your honor?”

“If it were only honor, I would never have offered you a home beyond the mountains. You would be safer in the foothills, and that was my oath, to do you no harm. Bringing you north to freeze is a—a selfish wish.” He dropped his hand, for she made no motion of acceptance. “I would have you with me, where I might see your freedom with my own eyes. But is that not a cage of a different sort, to bind you in such a way?”

“I—” She pressed her hands against her stomach, turning away. “I don’t know.”

Her back.

He had thought the scent of blood from some scratch upon her palm, as she had done the days before to free him from his chains. He had not imagined—was this why she had not come to him sooner? Blood stained the satin black, the ivory fabric sticking to her skin. When she removed it, the wounds would break and bleed again. He understood now, why she wore no laced bodice.

The growl rose from deep within his chest and she spun to face him, stepping back.

“It’s nothing.”

“Nothing! When he spills your blood like this?” He stalked forward, catching her by the arm. “Do not go to him, Arianna. Do not allow yourself to be found. Or else, bring him here and let me end this!”

“One more night and it won’t matter anymore,” she said fiercely, “but if we’re discovered before then, everything will be lost. Your suffering, mine, all for nothing if we’re caught. The king will have us both quartered for treason, and then who will warn your people?”

“You need not prove your strength to me, Princess. I have known it from the start.”

“Then let me prove it to myself!”

His hand slipped from her elbow as he searched her face. Fearless, now, but he wished she could have traded it for something other than anger. Was it for him, or for the men who abused her? Did she still look at him and see a monster? All he could see was her honor, burning brightly between them, calling to his own.

“You will not be short of opportunity on the journey,” he said. But when she only raised her chin, her eyes flashing fire, he said nothing of how such injuries might slow them.

“My hands are already blooded, Bolthorn,” she said, holding them out palm up. “Any more and I fear they will never wash clean.”

He took them in his own, his thumb tracing the cut of the knife. He wanted to tell her the stain would fade in time, but it would be a lie. If it were only Alviss, perhaps, but her father’s blood was a different matter. One more reason to take her to the mountains, where the king’s ghost would not follow so easily.

Instead, he raised the blooded hand to his chest and pressed it over one of his own wide cuts, half-healed. “As long as your blood flows for my sake, let any stain to your honor be mine, instead.”

She sighed, dropped her forehead to rest against his shoulder. “I wish it were so simple.”

“Oaths sworn in blood cannot be broken.” If only he could take her in his arms, hold her close against his skin, perhaps she would feel how simple it truly was. Later, he promised himself, when there was not so much blood between them in fact as well as spirit. “You can be certain I will guard your honor as I do my own.”

Had he not given her his word from the start that he would not harm her? Now that he knew her, he was all the more determined. It was the least he might do in repayment for the grief she might yet suffer.