“Wouldn’t do that to you,” the barkeep mutters.
“Not if you want to remain well supplied.”
“Stop throwing your weight around and fucking order,” Iloni says. “Mother’s tits, you’ve been insufferable for a decade.” She raises her voice too. “Food, Mitchell! Hurry up. I’m hungry.”
Fiuthen turns back to me. “He’s been in a foul mood since you fled.”
“I didn’t flee,” I bite out.
“If you say so. A strategic retreat. Anyway, Rathhur’s foul mood. . .I hope you don’t expect a warm welcome home.”
“Since when has Rath ever been warm?” No, he’s grim, fussy, controlling. “Has he grown a spine?”
They go silent, four sets of Orc eyes narrowing at the insult.
Iloni shrugs. “Ma’s gonna want to see you. You ready for that?”
“Don’t threaten me, Iloni. I’m not a scrawny girl anymore. I’ll rip your throat out.” I’ll try, anyway.
She gives me a long, slow, vicious smile. “Sounds like foreplay to me. I’ll kneel for you if you kneel for me.” She sniffs. “Smells like you need it too.”
Hatthar groans. “I’m trying to ignore that. Just let me watch.”
Lathhan stirs and shakes his head, strong disapproval in his cool gaze. “Rathhur will feed you his ax. Donottouch her. Or you, Lon’a.”
Iloni rolls her eyes. “He needs to learn to share. So. . .where you been, ankle biter?”
“The Outlands.”
So far no one is threatening me, tugging my hair or publicly humiliating me. Hatthar won’t stop nuzzling my braids and when I try to squirm out of his lap his arms tighten, but he’s always been like that. He likes to cuddle.
He also liked to chase, and push, and play drown me under the guise of teaching me to swim. I wriggle against Hatthar again, more for the principle.
“Keep doing that and Rath is going to fight me over my response,” he murmurs in my ear. I hiss and elbow him. Hard.
Full blooded Uthilsen males are predators—well, females are dangerous too—but the males have muzzles on them for a reason. These boys are no longer actual boys.
“The Outlands?” Lathhan prompts, eyes sparking with curiosity.
Once you’re stupid enough to give the oath, if you run, Orc males hunt.
If Orc males catch you, they take.
If you make the mistake of bleeding?
They devour.
It’s why any male who steps out of line is severely punished, and depending on his infraction, even killed. It’s also why unblooded females are off limits—we’re prey, and they’d wipe us out if they were unleashed.
“I’m a midwife.” I try to remember that. A midwife and a self-possessedadult, damn them. “There aren’t many trained midwives out there. The mothers have made do, but birth outcomes are better when someone trained is present.”
Iloni’s eyes widen with feminine respect; I’m ashamed it warms me. “You must have seen many battles.”
The Uthilsen like to pretend they’re nothing like the Aeddannari, or the Icarians. That they’re this clan loyal, family loving, humble race of warriors who live by a strict code of ethics. They are.
But all of that honor hides their darkness.
“Birth isn’t a battle,” Fiuthen says.
