“Teach me,” Krujha prompted him. Alwyn led him through the verses of the first one he could think of: the long list of obstacles in Krujha’s song had made him think of an elvish song about a fisherman trying to win the heart of a farmer’s daughter. Each verse described a different fish he caught, or a treasure he dredged up, and presented to her.
Neither of them had a great voice, but there was nobody around to hear them, so it didn’t matter. When they had finished that song, Krujha started another one in orcish. It quickly started using words Alwyn couldn’t quite follow, but Krujha was laughing again as he sang; and he thought he might have heard the phrase “went in through the backdoor”, giving him enough context to shoot Krujha a scowl, which only made him laugh harder.
“Is that a popular one, then?” he asked in an unimpressed tone, guessing it was of the cruder sort.
“It’s not unpopular, that’s for sure,” Krujha chuckled.
“I don’t even want to know what it would be called in elvish,” Alwyn said, though it was getting harder to disguise the laugh in his voice.
“I don’t think you do,” Krujha continued to laugh. “But if anyone else sings you that song, you shouldn’t travel alone with them.”
“Youjust sang it,” Alwyn pointed out flatly, and Krujha’s wicked grin widened.
“Other than me, of course,” he said, but the way he held Alwyn’s eyes for a beat longer felt entirely intentional.
Now that it was only the two of them, he could allow himself to have the thought that had been lingering in the back of his mind for most of the journey so far. Krujha was handsome, and the heat that bloomed in his stomach when he looked at the orc was not the same as the sharp anxiety he felt around strangers or his peers. He had not allowed himself to even think the wordattractivewhen he looked at Krujha, as if afraid the others could somehow sense his desire. But now there were no other elves. It was only the two of them.
“Krujha,” Alwyn heard himself speak. He hadn’t meant to say it aloud.
“Yes?” Krujha was looking away now, though a small smile still lingered on his face as he scanned the horizon. But Alwyn knew how sharp he was, even when his guard was down, so he searched his mind for something to talk about.
“I… never thanked you for not leaving me,” he said, reaching for the first topic he could find. It was more serious than he meant it to be, his voice coming out in a low, apologetic tone. But he supposed he did owe Krujha a debt of gratitude for not leaving him behind, and now he could thank him without worrying about anyone overhearing. “And for making sure I didn’t get us killed. I knew I couldn’t save them all from that camp, and another second could have…”
Krujha let the silence hang there, though Alwyn was sure could hear how his voice broke with the admission. The orc kept his eyes forward as Alwyn took a steadying breath.
“Don’t mention it,” Krujha answered, his tone as easy and light as ever. “No, that won’t do with you elves, will it? I suppose you owe me again, don’t you?”
This time, Krujha turned to face him with a wide, gleaming grin. Alwyn met his gaze, trying to keep a smile off his own face, and gave a nod. “Well, I’ll think of something, I’m sure,” the orc laughed.
“I’m sure you will,” Alwyn murmured, heat rising in his face as he finally glanced away.
Maybe it was more than just physical attraction, he thought. Had anyone ever been closer to him than this orc spy? Dangerous as it was to let his guard down this much, he couldn’t deny that he had shared things with Krujha that he had never spoken a word of before, had been more vulnerable with him than with anyone else.
But nothing would come of it—nothingcouldcome of it, of course. Elves of the Order never took a bondmate, as the magic linking two minds was far too great a risk. Close relationships simply didn’t happen in their line of work, and purely physical interactions, while not forbidden outright, were still discouraged. So he had kept that part of himself on a tight leash, ignoring anything even remotely approaching attraction so completely that he only ever recognized it long after the other person was gone from his life. Now, though, he could feel that grip relaxing, and for once did not push away the desire simmering low in his body.
He let himself look at Krujha—his wicked smile, the way his raven-dark hair fell into his golden eyes, how the strong muscles of his body shifted and rippled with each step of his horse. He thought about what those muscles would feel like slicked with sweat against his hands, imagined the movement of Krujha’s bigger body atop his own.
But that would never happen. He couldn’t afford distractions in this mission, and such activities would be asignificantdistraction. Still, he could allow himself to soak in the feeling for however many days they had alone together. His imagination would have to suffice, along with the freedom to let his eyes linger on Krujha’s pleasing form for as long as he wanted.
Chapter Fifteen
Alwyn
When they found a place to camp that night, Alwyn stole a quick glance at his enchanted parchment as he tethered his horse, expecting no response.
G and F reported back. No other survivors. Regroup with G in D.K. No changes to your mission.
“No other survivors,” Alwyn murmured, frowning. Seeing the reply had made his heart leap up into his throat, but it now sank back down into the pit of his stomach. It was not all too surprising to hear, but still left him feeling unsettled.
“What’s that?” Krujha asked, coming to peer over his shoulder.
“A message from my master,” Alwyn said, quickly folding the parchment back up. “Galred made it out, but it sounds like the rest didn’t.”
A pained expression crossed the orc’s face. “I see. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It seems we made the right call, though,” Alwyn continued. “He wants me to regroup with him in Drol Kuggradh.”
“If Galred makes it there,” Krujha sighed. “It will be a difficult journey alone.”
