“I can walk,” I growled.
“Can you?” When Lillian was brave enough to step toward me despite her worry, I hid my proud smile. “The guards will stay at your side in case you stumble.”
“The guards will stay at his side,” the older man announced, “in case the bastard gets any ideas about escaping again. We remember what happened last time. Shorten the chains,” he commanded.
With two of the guards holding swords at my throat, another stepped forward to shift the manacles along the chain which had held my arms over my head. My wrists weren’t shackled to one another and I could still move my arms freely, although I held them in such a way that theguard wouldn’t guess he’d misjudged the length of the chain.
Good.
“Let’s go,” one of them ordered, prodding me with the sword.
I heard Lillian suck in a breath as the blade drew blood at the base of my neck, close to the injury she’d already treated. For the first time, I allowed myself to lift my gaze to hers.
There was worry in her blue eyes, aye, and compassion as well. I watched her reach for me then lower her fingers before anyone but me was aware. She took a deep breath, dropped her gaze to the floor in her usual appearance of servility, and turned away.
“Follow me, please,” she murmured as she limped from the cell.
The males on either side of me tightened their grips, and I was willing to rely on them as they led me from behind those hated bars. I’d told Lillian I could walk, and Iwould. But those first dozen yards were difficult as my legs remembered what to do, and I would have fallen without the guards.
Once we reached the steps, however, I was stumbling less, and my arms were flexing beneath their hold. Still, I pretended weakness and humility, keeping my head down and my chin tucked, hoping they’d believe I was beaten and broken.
Good, because Stormseeker of the Battleborn awaits ye, and ye dinnae ken why.
The Great Hall was a wall of sound and heat, both of which made me wince after months of cold solitude. It seemed the humans celebrated their winter feast with burning as many trees as possible, because the huge hearth put out a heat I could barely stand. Mayhap my months of freezing temperatures had acclimated my body to the snow and ice, because sweat soon rolled down the small of my back.
My guards led me—stumbling theatrically—toward the center of the hall, then yanked me to a stop. I stood, shoulders slumped, wrists shackled in front of me, the chain linking them gripped in my hands so it appeared less of a threat. I shifted until my back was to the entrance and I kept my head bowed, although I watched from beneath lowered brows.
From my left eye, at least.
“Good God, Tarbert, he’sdisgusting!” came a woman’s cry. Laughter followed, along with more jeers.
“You couldn’t have given him a bath for us?”
“It’s huge! That’s an orc, eh? Thank God you’re allied with the strong ones!”
“His daughters are married to one of those? Is he certain they’re still alive? It looks like it could break me in half without trying.”
“Yes, darling, but I’d like him to give me a try. Do you think his cock is as big as the rest of him?”
“How long has he been in that dungeon, Tarbert? He’s stillbleeding!”
“Can it understand us, do you think?”
Some of the discussion was quiet enough I doubted the humans knew I could hear them. Others called their insults, fully intending to be heard.
And I? I stood there and took it, the humiliation, the taunting, the speaking of me as if I were a beast. To these close-minded humans, mayhap Iwas.
Lillian had been the only one to see me as worth a conversation, worth compassion. She’d been the only one to see mysoul. Which is why I wasn’t going to leave her here to suffer her father’s demands. Even if I had to raise the Bloodfire allies, I would heal, and I would storm Tarbert Keep…forher.
Keeping my head down, I shifted my attention to Tarbert himself. I recognized him after so many visits to gloat at me in the dungeon, but today he was dressed in his finest robes and a heavy fur cloak. I wondered how he could stand it in the sweltering heat.
As I watched, a serving wench—her tits hanging low in her unlaced kirtle—giggled as she bent over him to refill his ale, and he grabbed her, pulling her into his lap. Her throaty laughter rang under the calls of the spectators, and Tarbert shoved his hand into her gown to lift out one of her breasts and idly squeeze it as he studied me.
I shot a glance at Lillian to see her gaze locked on the floor, her hands folded before her meekly. There were two spots of color high in her cheeks, and I thought they might be embarrassment for the spectacle her father was making of himself.
The men seated around Tarbert called out lewd encouragement and suggestions about the serving wench as he kept his triumphant attention locked on me. I purposefullymoved my attention from him, keeping my posture defeated and weak.
I almost missed the other orc.
