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“Everyone knows that now,” she says, glancing sideways at me. “We kept it secret for a time. You and I. You see, Tok is Bakog’s best friend. He was a little torn over that.”
“Bakog didn’t want Tok interested in his little sister?” I ask.
“Nay. Tok wasn’t keen on it either. Aye, was most appalled that I showed him my boobs at sixteen.”
The laughter gurgles out of my chest at the same time hers does, but the little boys scrunch up their noses. “Gross!”
“Ick! I think I’d throw up. Girls got fat boobies,” Latjo says.
“Why is that?” Silann asks.
“Ask your momma,” Hisa says.
“I think they’re to feed the babies,” Latjo says to Silann. “But I wonder when the babies come?”
Silann shrugs. “Pretty soon, I think.”
I’m somewhat nervous when we enter the large room that houses the kitchens.
Even more so when the chatter abruptly stops.
“It’s Shalia!” Latjo yells. “But you all call her Jogug.”
Silann scratches his head. “Is that a Blackheart name, Shally?” Then he eyes my clothing. “You look like them.”
“Um, yes,” I say softly.
“Grumpy!” Latjo yells excitedly.
An older orc with a few threads of silver in his braided beard stands across the room staring at me. A hushed whisper roves across the room.
He’s older, wiser. Probably knows who my father is and yet I can’t outright ask.
He’s softspoken, that much is for sure. A male as gentle as a summer breeze.
He stops right in front of me and... his kohl-lined eyes are glossy. About to spill over. I’m frozen in place, wanting to hug the beast, but afraid of overstepping my boundaries.
“Jogug,” he whispers. “You are good?”
I give a short nod. “Until Bakog returns.”
“He’ll arrive tonight.”
And even though the silver fox whispers, his voice rasps like broken glass. It’s not my imagination that everyone waits with bated breath as if they expect an explosion from this powerful man.
I fight the shiver that crawls up my spine.
But he is calm, eerily quiet. “You will be treated like a princess here. But then again, that is no different than normal.”
What does that mean? Who is this male? He seems familiar and I remember the two little brats called him grumpy. Mayhap because he’s so softspoken and the nickname teases otherwise.
I don’t answer him; ‘tis best not to grow attached to anyone. Already, I’m making allowances for Hisa and the two brats.
“I’ll eat with you,” Hisa says gently to the man, breaking his stare from me. The two little boys squeal and take me to the table where the food is spread and God’s fire, I hope they take me outside to sit away from all these eyes.
But my mind is working a mile a minute. If Bakog won’t be back until tonight, I might be able to seek out the prisoners on my own.
