They had gotten along well when they had gone on that hunt, he thought, so perhaps another hunting trip could help. If anything, the times they had been outdoors together, alone, had been some of the times they had been most vulnerable with each other; he remembered the day he first showed Zorvut the wooded path in the archery range, how they seemed to communicate best when discussing what was familiar between them—the bow, the sword. There was something there.
After he had walked the grounds, he came back to the cool shade of the castle, and when he arrived back in his room, he could hear that Zorvut had returned and was bathing. He was tempted to join him, but that seemed too presumptuous—instead, he settled into one of his comfy chairs with a book, and waited. Now that they were closer, he could feel Zorvut more closely in his head, though the feelings were muted and weak, as if he were also trying to remain more closed-off to him. It felt like a faint whisper of sadness, so distant he could only hear it when he focused on nothing else.
Eventually, Zorvut emerged from the bath, dressed only in loose breeches, his bare chest still glistening with moisture and his wet hair sticking to his skin. He glanced at Taegan and gave a slight nod of acknowledgment but did not speak, instead going for the wardrobe and pulling out a clean shirt, a dark purple tunic. Desire stirred in Taegan as he watched Zorvut pull the shirt over his head, but he tamped it down.
“I was hoping to speak with you,” he said, standing up. Zorvut gestured for him to continue, keeping his back turned. “I was... I wondered if you’d like to come with me on a hunt, just the two of us.” He could feel Zorvut hesitate—whatever he had thought to hear from Taegan, it seemed this had not been it. Finally, he turned to meet his gaze.
“Why?” he asked, much more blunt than Taegan expected, and he blinked in surprise.
“Well,” he said slowly, trying to gather his thoughts. “I thought it might be nice to get out of the castle for a bit. This time of year, there are giant boars to the south. It might be a decent challenge to take one down.”
Zorvut seemed unconvinced, his expression unchanged. Taegan hesitated, then added, “And it would be nice… to spend some time alone with you.”
The face Zorvut made as he said it seemed pained, but he sighed and nodded. “All right,” he agreed. “When?”
“We could go tomorrow,” Taegan said quickly, before Zorvut could change his mind. “It’s a few hours’ ride, but if we leave in the afternoon, we would arrive in the forest where they live around sunset, when they’re most active.”
“Sure,” Zorvut agreed, giving a terse nod. “We’ll go tomorrow.” He hesitated, clearly thinking of something and debating whether or not to speak, and he took a step closer to Taegan, looking him carefully in the eye. “Taegan, I don’t know what I did yesterday to upset you, and you don’t have to tell me,” he said quickly, his voice low with emotion. “But, please don’t do...that, again. It was... uncomfortable.”
“I understand,” Taegan replied softly, though he was not sure exactly what Zorvut meant. “And I’m sorry. I was frustrated with something else and took it out on you.” Zorvut nodded, his shoulders visibly starting to relax, and Taegan took a step closer to him, running his hands up the orc’s muscled arms. “Come to bed with me?”
“No,” Zorvut replied quickly. He tensed, but did not pull away. “No, not yet, I... Maybe later.”
“Okay,” Taegan said, stepping back. “Perhaps I can read to you, instead.” They were silent for a moment, then Zorvut nodded.
“That sounds nice,” he said. They settled into their armchairs, Taegan turning his to face Zorvut, and he read aloud until they left for their evening meal.
Chapter Eight
Thefollowingmorning,Taeganmade all the arrangements for their trip, and by the early afternoon everything was prepared for them to make the journey to the Silverwood, where giant boar roamed in abundance during the spring and summer. It would be an overnight trip, he explained to Zorvut as they prepared to set out, and they would return the next evening. Graksh’t carried some of the heavier camping supplies, while Moonlight carried extra arrows and bedding that did not quite fit in their backpacks.
They set out, Taegan leading the way and Zorvut following quietly. He still seemed tense and distant, but Taegan was just glad he had agreed to come at all. It was a long ride, but a scenic one, and as Taegan pointed out landmarks and villages he felt like he was mostly talking to himself. Zorvut followed a few paces behind him, always within earshot, but never quite side-by-side, although the road was wide enough to allow it.
“That village along the river there is where my father was born,” he said, a few hours into their trip. The small fishing village of Pondshear was nestled in between the bend of the river and the foothills of a mountain range. Zorvut glanced over at him, a faint look of surprise crossing over his face.
“The king?” he asked.
“No, my other father,” he said, shaking his head. “They met when Papa was a knight.” He smiled faintly, remembering the story he had been told a hundred times before. “It caused a big fuss for a prince to want to marry a knight, but he was the prince, and no one could tell him no. And Papa was the greatest swordsman in the royal guard, which was why he came to live in the capital—and, well, this part may have been an embellishment, but they always said that if anyone tried to keep them apart, Papa could cut them down, no matter who they were.” He made a slashing motion with one hand, the same way Papa would whenever he told the story.
When he looked back, Zorvut was still peering over at the fishing village, but met his gaze when he noticed Taegan watching him.
“He was a warrior,” Zorvut repeated. “Was he slain in battle?”
Taegan flinched at the blunt question. “Yes,” he replied. “Almost ten years ago, now.” He hesitated, and added, “You may have heard of him, Alain Glynzeiros. He was known for wielding two swords, rather than a sword and shield. He led a battalion into the eastern mountains, hoping to launch a surprise attack on the orc trade post there while the warlord visited, but they were intercepted. They were able to retrieve his body and bring it back for a proper burial, but...” He trailed off. The last part of the story was always the worst to tell.
“Without his arms,” Zorvut finished, and Taegan nodded. “Yes, I’ve heard of him. I had not realized...” He sighed, looking away. From the bond, he could sense something like bitterness. “I’m sure this would not change how you feel, but I wasn’t in that battle. I was too young then.”
“I know,” Taegan said quickly. “We found out after the fact that the warlord was still in Drol Kuggradh with his clan. My father was...” He trailed off, remembering King Ruven’s helpless fury after learning their information had been wrong. “Well, he forbade me from training with the sword for a long time after that, which is why I mainly use a bow now.”
“Understandable,” Zorvut murmured, still not quite meeting his gaze.
There wasn’t much more to say on the matter, and they fell into an awkward silence for a moment. The fishing village disappeared behind a hill as they continued along the winding road.
Before much longer, the tree line of the Silverwood was visible, and the sun was nearing the horizon in the west. Taegan retrieved his bow and filled his quiver as they approached, and Zorvut followed suit.
“The giant boar here spend most of the day rooting around deeper in the forest, but we might find a straggler where the forest is less dense,” he said, slowing his pace so Zorvut could catch up and he could speak more quietly. “Let’s try and flush one out of the tree line first, if we can.”
He nodded, and suggested, “I’ll go left, you go right.”
