‘Twas red.
Orc blood was red, just like mine.
I’m not sure why that mattered, why that gave me courage,but it did. Mayhap ‘twas just the sight of another’s pain, pain I knew well, that spurred me forward.
I found myself standing before the orc, looking down at him, waiting for him to acknowledge me.
He didn’t.
Even kneeling, the beast was huge. I was taller, aye, but not by much. This shouldn’t surprise me, since I was smaller than everyone else in the castle, but the orc was twice the breadth of my father’s biggest warrior, and a foot taller besides.
Now, though? Now he was as broken as I.
I bent to place the tray on the floor then reached for one of the bandages. I couldn’t wrap him until I knew the extent of his injuries. Wishing futilely for some yarrow tea to ease his pain, I dipped the cloth into the wooden cup of water and squeezed out the excess.
I needed him to lift his head so I could wipe away the blood.
Taking another deep breath to steel myself, I reached for his shoulder.
But when the orc lifted his dark, mangled gaze to my face, I gasped and jerked back.
Kragorn
That bad,eh?
‘Twas my first thought when I saw the look of horror upon the lass’s face as she gazed at the ruins of my own. Still, to give her credit, even though I’d startled her, she lifted the white rag in front of my good eye, as if showing me her intent.
When I didn’t respond, she switched her gaze to my injury and began to dab at it.
Hurt like all the hells, but I hid my reaction to her poking and prodding.
“You have a fever,” she murmured.
‘Twas the first thing she’d said to me directly, ever, and I didn’t respond. What was I supposed to do? Agree?
Aye, of course I had a fever; ‘twas the reason I kept seeing my brother Vartok pacing the cell nearby, complaining that I was dying and leaving him to handle the clan.
My twin wasn’t here. No one was here. I was alone, as I’d been these last months.
Until today.
I idly wondered if it had been worth it—getting myself beaten near to death—to finally feel another’s touch.
Finally feelhertouch.
Lady Lillian. I’d heard the guards talking to her and about her in the three months I’d been imprisoned in Tarbert Keep. I’d used that time to recover from my wounds, to build my strength back as much as possible, to plan my escape.
And to watch her.
Malla the Beginner, but this wee human was intriguing. I could smell her fear—not just today, butalways. What was it like, to go through life being constantly afraid? But still, despite her fear, she faced her challenges—facedme—each day. I’d found myself looking forward to her arrival, not just because she brought food, but because she was intriguing.
She wore the gowns of a cherished daughter but acted as if she were the lowest of servants.
Orcs had no ladies, no servants, in our villages, so I was fascinated by the dichotomy. Och, she wasn’t the only lady—or servant—who’d come to the dungeons to gawk at Tarbert’s Beast in the last months. Tarbert himself had often come to gloat at his cunning, capturing the chief of his enemies.
But Lillian only ever brought kindness.
And now she was in my cell.Touchingme, despite her fear. I’d scented her the moment she arrived, but had lacked the strength to lift my head.
