“And ye, the laird’s daughter, must be one of the ones to do that?”
What had we been speaking about? Oh, aye, the chores. I shrugged and moved closer so he might drink.
Kragorn tipped his head back and watched me as he swallowed down the tea. I, needing an excuse not to hold his gaze, examined his eye socket.
“Your fever has broken, and the poultice seems to be working.I brought more today, and will apply some to your smaller wounds.”
With a slurping noise, Kragorn finish the tea, and I pulled the cup away. He kept his gaze on me.
“I told ye orcs are fast healers, especially with help. The tea and poultices are miracles. Why doyehave to be the one to scrub the floors, Lillian?”
The question was slipped in so casually that I answered before I thought better of it.
“Because Father expects it.”
“Ye arenae a servant, Lillian.”
When he said my name, I could imagine that ridged tongue flicking against the back of his teeth to say theLsound. That shouldn’t be erotic, should it? Shivering slightly, I turned to the bowl and lowered my voice.
“I brought you meat today in your pottage. ‘Twill grow your strength.” I offered him a heaping spoonful. “Trust me.”
“I do, damn me,” he growled, his brow drawn in above his nose as if he were angry, as that intriguing tongue stretched out to slurp the food I offered. “Ye are nae servant,” he muttered around the food.
Was I not? I shrugged, continuing to spoon-feed him.
“I am the least of my father’s daughters. The least pretty, the least talented. The leastable. My one skill is ensuring my father’s keep runs smoothly, and since I will not marry and move away, I have devoted my life to ensuring he is comfortable.”
Mayhap I spoke more than I ought, but I wanted him to focus on the food. Kragorn listened to me as he ate, and now he swallowed with a grunt.
“And what does Tarbert give ye in return? No’ a wage.”
“Nay, of course not.” I scooped up a piece of mutton with the next spoonful. “I am hisdaughter. He gives me safety, food, a place to live. I am obligated to him.”
“He treats ye as a slave.”
I shook my head, then glared at him, pulling the spoon away.
“Heneedsme. I am grateful for the opportunity.”
“Grateful to be needed? I can understand that,” Kragorn growled. “But ye work yer fingers to calluses, yer body to exhaustion, trying to make yerself useful to a man who doesnae acknowledge ye.”
How could he know that? I stared at him, lips parted, dozens of angry retorts spinning through my mind. Father needed me! And I was grateful to be needed!
But another small part whispered,He’s right.
“Lillian,” he murmured, his gaze searching my face. “Ye are no’least. Ye are kind and generous and brave and beautiful?—”
“I am not,” I snapped, glad to finally have a direction for my anger as I scooped up more pottage and shoved it into his mouth. “You do not have to lie to me.”
My sisters were beautiful. I was…I was not. I was broken and mousey and quiet, andI accepted that. I didn’t needflowery compliments from my father’s enemy. I didn’t need lies.
Kragorn watched me as he ate, and I hated that I felt…laid bare. As if he saw something beneath my skin I couldn’t see. So, in an effort to distract myself, I found myself blathering again.
“I was four years old when I broke the bones in my ankle. I was being naughty—my father thought I was with my governess and sisters, and they thought I was practicing my stitches in the yard. I wanted to see my father practice with his warriors, so I climbed up onto the wall. When I fell off…”
I shuddered at the memory. When Kragorn’s mouth opened, I shoved more food into it, then forced myself to shrug as if the past no longer mattered.
“Since I was disobeying his order, Father locked me in my room as punishment. It was several days before the healer came to examine me, and by then the damage was done. The bones healed wrong.”
