Ella elbowed him in the side, and he elbowed back, and it was enough to drain away almost the rest of the tension, almost. “But if it’s for me,” she said, “or your mate, or whoever — why wear it before your kin, to your Revel, like this?”
It was a moment before Natt replied, their matching steps silent on the stone floor. “It is, in our tales,” he said slowly, “a way to honour one’s mate, and to enforce one’s pledge, and one’s fealty. A Grisk’s mate places this ring upon him, marking him as her own, and in return he only bestows his gifts upon her. Their scent is untainted by any other, their sons and their joy only their own.”
Oh. So that moment, in that room, before that looking-glass,hadbeen more than just pleasure. It had been to enforce their pledge, and their fealty. And if Natt had known that, and perhaps even felt that too, why had he dismissed it afterwards, in a way that had felt so uncommonly cruel, from him?
But there was no time to question it, because they’d reached what Ella now knew to be the Grisk common-room, which seemed to be spilling orcs and noise out into the corridor. And when Natt ushered Ella through the door, it was like the party suddenly exploded to life around them, swarming with sound and colour and laughter.
The large, firelit room was filled with dozens of Grisk orcs, all seeming to be talking and moving at once. Many of the orcs were eating — there was a table piled with food to one side — and some were playing games, or wrestling and sparring together. And in the far corner, there was even music, as two orcs pounded out elaborate rhythms on a set of huge, hide-covered drums, while a group of listening orcs nodded and stomped along.
But most interesting of all, perhaps — and when had Ella begun to find thisinteresting, rather than shocking? — were the orcs who were taking their pleasure together, without secrecy or shame. There was the massive Simon orc, sprawled upon a bench, with an unfamiliar orc kneeling between his legs. There was Baldr, with his eyes squeezed shut and his back against a wall, while the tall Drafli orc pinned him there, his dark head bent deep into his neck. And there, across the room, were even Stella and Silfast, Stella facing Silfast on his lap, her flimsy robe already falling down her back as she ground and arched against him.
It meant there were at least a few orcs from every clan here, beyond just the Grisk — and a sidelong look at Natt showed him looking almost stunned by that fact, his eyes darting from Baldr and Drafli, to Simon, to Silfast. And then to even John, who was leaning against a nearby wall with his arms crossed, and an unmistakably pained look in his dark eyes — but as Ella watched, his gaze flicked to meet Natt’s, his head giving a curt little nod.
Suddenly a shrill whistle rent the air — it was Thrak, standing across the room, with both fingers in his mouth — and in response, the room’s blaring noise juddered to a halt. As the mass of partying orcs seemed to turn toward Natt and Ella, all at once.
There was silence, for an instant — and then a shout, and then another. And then a slowly rising chorus of cheers, along with clapping hands and stomping feet. The orcs were applauding, forNatt. For the orc who would soon be their Speaker, after he’d suffered so many years of hunting, and hiding, and misery.
Ella’s eyes were prickling, and she willingly went as Natt drew her deeper into the room. He was nodding and smiling, speaking thanks to his well-wishers in black-tongue, while also guiding Ella steadily toward an empty couch, set slightly apart from the rest of the revelling. And as they approached, Ella realized that Natt’s guard was already standing around behind it, waiting.
“Thank you, my brothers,” Natt said to them, earning a nod from Dammarr, and genuine grins from the other three. And when Varinn waved at the empty couch before them, Ella could see Natt’s shoulders rise and fall, his throat convulsing. And again there was the appreciation, sudden and fervent, of how important this was to him. How weighty this moment was.
So Ella watched, her smile slowly broadening, as Natt strode for the couch, and turned, and sat. Looking, for a jarring, twitching moment, like a wild warlord, a fierce devastating king — and behind her multiple orcs were cheering again, shouting in black-tongue, while the drumbeat shuddered loud and celebratory through the room.
Natt again nodded, and smiled, and raised his arms in thanks — and when his gaze sweeping the room finally settled on Ella’s grinning face, it was like those eyes crackled, fusing with warmth and approval. And that slight jerk of his head meant come, so Ella did, moving as gracefully as she could to sit at his side, leaning close into the powerful bright safety of his warmth.
“I thank you, my Grisk brothers, and our guests,” Natt’s voice said, deep and carrying, once the cheers had faded. “It shall honour me to Speak with you this night. In the way of my father, and his fathers before him, I shall meet all you ask, and ask you all you wish. You only must approach me, and Speak.”
There was another round of stomps and cheers, and then the odd sense of the room stilling, as if waiting for someone to approach him. But no one did, not yet, and again Ella could almost sense the unease, the whispering fear. The dual-edged weight of this strange role of Natt’s, commanding all this respect and honour, and so much mistrust and loneliness.
And before she quite knew what she’d done, Ella had leapt to her feet, and stood tall before Natt’s seated form. He was blinking at her, betraying an unmistakable surprise, but she was doing this now, and she swallowed, and gave her best curtsey.
“You honour us all, wise Nattfarr, rightful Speaker of Clan Grisk,” she said, as loudly as she dared. “My question for you is” — she took a breath, was she really going to say this, she was — “do you love me?”
The room had fallen almost entirely silent, and Ella was suddenly, deeply aware of all the eyes on her, on him. Of the fact that perhaps she’d just put herself, or Natt, into a potentially disastrous situation, because what if this wasn’t what one was supposed to do, what if he said no, what if he refused to answer —
Natt’s eyes hadn’t betrayed anything, not approval or disapproval, but his hand beckoned toward Ella, saying, come closer. So she did, and here was the sheer relief of Natt’s fingers cupping her face, his eyes holding steady to hers. Speaking truth.
“Ach, my lass,” he said, quiet, but still enough to carry. “I have loved you for half my life.”
Oh.Oh. The relief and the pleasure were alive, swarming through Ella all at once, and when her traitorous body hurled itself at him, her arms clinging around his fur-covered back, thankfully there were only chuckles behind them, and a rising murmur of voices. And Natt, Natt was holding her tight and close, his face bent close into her neck, and that meant he approved, he was glad she’d done it. Even if she’d asked —that.
“Sorry if I should have waited,” Ella murmured as she pulled away, sliding back into her seat beside him. “Or if I put you in an uncomfortable position.”
But Natt only shot her a rueful smile, twitching with a tolerant, affectionate warmth. “You have done just what you are meant to,” he said. “You asked me a heavy question, a tricky question, that I was now bound to answer, before all my kin.”
Ella smiled back at him, and fought to ignore the whispering unease — why was that such a tricky question, if what he’d given was his true answer? — as another orc broke from the crowd to stride toward them. It was Baldr, Ella realized, and she could almost feel Natt’s surprise beside her. And then his appreciation, that the Captain’s powerful left hand would so openly show his support of Natt’s rightful place as Speaker, before all these watching eyes.
“Brother,” Baldr said with a nod toward Natt, as he stepped close, to the same place Ella had been. “I wish to know where your loyalty shall lie, once you gain the place of Speaker. Shall it be only to the Grisk?”
Ella could feel the room hushing again, listening, for this surely was a tricky question, perhaps planted by Grimarr himself — but Natt only raised his hand up to Baldr’s face. And when their gazes locked, Ella could feel the strength of Natt’s magic this time, stuttering into the air between them.
“When I am Speaker,” Natt said, his voice low, smooth, utterly compelling, “my fealty shall be to all who call this mountain home. I shall always care for my Grisk kin, but a Speaker must strive most of all for justice and for truth, no matter who speaks this, or needs this.”
Baldr gave a slow nod, clearly approving of Natt’s answer, but then his head tilted, his eyes still held to Natt’s. “And what, Nattfarr,” he said, “do you most long for, when you are Speaker?”
It was another tricky question, one that set Ella’s heartbeat rising, every eye in the room watching, waiting — but Natt’s gaze didn’t falter. “I long most of all for a son,” he said, quieter than before. “I long to carry on my father’s name, and his gifts, after my death.”
Oh. None of the watching orcs seemed surprised by that — sons were surely a common theme among them — but Ella felt almost struck by that confession, that truth. Natt wanted asonmost of all? More than anything else? He had never told her that, had he?
