The growl I heard didn’t come from Kragorn’s mouth, but his chest. When he swallowed, his voice joined it.
“The bastard allowed ye to be maimed to learn a lesson? His own kitling?”
I didn’t know what that meant, but I had a lifetime’s experience justifying Father’s actions.
“I deserved the punishment for disobeying him. And it was not his fault my bones healed wrong?—”
“Aye, ‘twas, Lillian,” he growled, swaying toward me, hisface screwed into a rictus of rage. “He kenned what he was doing!”
Sometimes, in the dark of night, I wondered the same thing. Now, wanting to avoid an unpleasant truth, I shook my head in denial.
“He needs me,” I whispered, ducking my head to focus on scraping the bottom of the bowl. “He needs me.”
“And he made certain ye’d be with him always? That is stupid, Lillian. Any male would be lucky to have a Mate like ye; capable and brave?—”
My gaze snapped up, and my tone matched my ire.
“I am here to heal you, orc. You do not need to flatter me with lies.”
Kragorn’s expression had gone impassive at thatorc, and I told myself ‘twas for the best. I didn’t need to think of him as a male.
A huge, impressive, male, one whose features—though battered—had a certain…rugged handsomeness to them?
What are you doing? You think this beast handsome?
Nay! I turned away, groping for the tray. Nay, I didn’t!
Did I?
“My father died seven winters ago.”
Kragorn’s voice rang low at my back as I turned to fumble the empty bowl back to the platter.
“I have led my clan for seven years. Ye will grant that I understand what leadership is? What a chief kens he wants?”
I refused to answer…mainly because I didn’t knowhowto respond. I didn’t know what he wanted from me. I didn’t know whatIwanted from me. Instead, I focused on cleaning my hands and forcing open the crock containing the poultice and salve.
“I have been trapped in all of the four hells this winter, Lillian.” His voice was gravelly, compelling, but I refused to turn. “Here, I am no’ a chief. I am just a male. One who, for a long while, thought he was dying. I am just a male, and ye areno’the least of aught. Ye are a lady.”
“I am no one,” I whispered, smearing the poultice over a cloth with shaking hands. “And you should not say such things.”
“Why no’?” he rumbled.
Because when he said he was amaleand I was alady, it made me think of the illustrations ofA Harlot’s Guide, the ones my sisters had showed me. It made me aware of his strength and his size. Had it only been the day before yesterday that I feared him dying? Had it really only been two days since I faced my fear and entered the cell with him?
“I can smell ye.”
Kragorn’s confusing, whispered confession had me whirling back to face him, heart hammering in my chest, praying I’d misheard.
But his eyelid had lowered halfway, his jaw slack as he studied me.
“Orcish senses are far stronger than those of humans, lass. I ken what ye’re thinking about.”
Nay. ‘Twas impossible.
Forget shaking hands; now my entire body shook—fear, confusion, anger—and I struggled to hide it. I forced myself to step over to him, to lift the poultice. I would not respond to his ridiculous claim.
“Tip your head to one side so I can reach the wound on your shoulder.”
