CHAPTER ONE
Lillian
The orc was in chains.Still, my stomach quivered with apprehension.
The tray in my hands suddenly seemed heavier and I tightened my grip on the polished silver, edging closer to the bars.
“Why…” I whispered, trailing off when I realized I didn’t know exactly what I wanted to ask.
What had happened? Why was he in chains?
For months, I’d brought the beast a meal each day—or rather, I’d brought three meals to the icy dungeons; one for the pair of guards, and one for them to pass through the bars of the orc’s cell to allow him to eat.
Each day as I crept down the stone steps, the beast pushed himself to his feet, the threadbare blanket falling from hisshoulders as he stood. He would watch me with that dark, intense gaze, ignoring the food as he stared.
That gaze made me feel itchy and uncomfortable and made me wonder if orcs possessed some sort of magic in that strange world of theirs.
But I was not the sort of woman to earn stares—or, really, notice of any kind- from males, so mayhap that was why I’d continued to volunteer to fetch his meals from the kitchens. His gaze had intrigued me.
Today, though…
I edged closer to the bars, closer than I’d ever come before.
What did he do to deserve chains?
Today, the orc wasn’t standing, watching as I approached. He wasn’t hunched in the corner on the paltry bed of straw which had been his bed for the last three months. He wasn’t even looking at me.
Today, the orc was in chains.
I found myself missing his dark, disconcerting stare.
He knelt, the heels of his boots resting against the wall opposite the cell door, his filthy kilt barely covering his huge thighs. His arms were stretched impossibly wide and his wrists were bound by shackles, the chains looped through iron bolts in the stone wall. ‘Twas clear the tension was the only thing keeping him upright.
His head hung down, his long black hair hiding one side of his face, but what I could see made me wince.
If he hadn’t lost that eye three months ago, he likely wouldnow. Because the beast had obviously met with more damage.
After all these months, I knew his injuries, the ones he’d sustained in the battle against my father’s men in the late autumn.Thosebruises had eventually faded, and the more serious wounds were scabbed over. But this?
He was bleeding from a half-dozen new wounds, the remains of his eye were dripping something white, and for the first time, I saw defeat in the slope of his massive shoulders.
“What happened?” I managed to whisper, edging closer.
“The bastard tried to escape, milady.”
The guard’s words, jarring in the frigid stillness, startled me into jostling the tray I held. I twisted to face him, keeping my chin tucked so I wouldn’t have to look directly at him.
“Did he—” How to ask? “How far did he get?”
“Almost out of the dungeon,” the man announced with apparent glee. “But ‘e didn’t know how many men yer father has at his disposal. Took down four of ours before we could lay him out, though.”
Swallowing, I peered back at the beaten orc.
“He killed my father’s men?”
“Two of them. The other two will likely live. You see how big his hands are?”
The guard’s tone turned conversational as he leaned against the bars, jerking his chin toward the orc’s arms.
