John actually chuckled, and hoisted her up closer against him. “Shhh, woman,” he said. “He and his Ash-Kai magic are oft seen as the saviour of our mountain.”
But Rosa’s head had lifted to search John’s face, even as she couldn’t see it, while her surprisingly calm brain belatedly pulled together all the seemingly disparate bits and pieces. Drawing together a little pool of clarity, out of all the day’s unimaginable chaos.
The books John had taken from her library. The books inhislibrary. The medics. The milk, the survey, the mathematical probability, the medical tools, perhaps even the blood compatibility. The twenty dead women. He’s supposed to be the expert. Shall you ban him from his work. When it comes to women, we must tread with great care…
His Ash-Kai magic cannot predict, or understand, or explain. It isnotenough.
“You’re trying to help women like me, aren’t you?” Rosa heard herself say, quiet. “You’re trying to learn how to keep us safe, as we bear your sons.That’swhat you want to focus on right now, rather than this foolish, endless war.”
She could feel John’s astonishment, prickling the air around them, clenching his claws against her. But then, to her distant surprise, he nodded, his hair brushing at her cheek.
“Ach,” he replied finally. “There is much else I must do, much other work to be done — but this alone is my highest calling. My true life’s aim.”
Rosa nodded too, closing her eyes, sliding up a careful hand to stroke against the hard lines of his face. “Thenyouare the true saviour of your mountain, John,” she whispered. “You’rethe one who will rescue your people.Withoutmagic, but withknowledge. Even better than magic, because as long as you write it down, and put it in a library, knowledge can be shared withanyone.Forever.”
She could hear the fervency on her voice, could feel it in her touch against his skin. And though John didn’t answer, there was a soft, telltale trace of his claws, curving against the back of Rosa’s neck. Speaking his approval, without speaking at all.
The warmth unfurled sharp and powerful, enough to set Rosa’s eyes fluttering, her breath catching in her throat. She’d pleased him. She could be worthy, maybe, after all, as long as he never, ever found out. Even after this was over in three weeks, even when she returned to Lord Kaspar, and…
Rosa forcibly shoved that unsettling thought away, and snuggled closer against John’s strength, as a massive yawn escaped her mouth. And in return, she felt rather than heard him chuckle, his chest vibrating warm and tolerant against hers.
“Sleepy little rose,” he whispered. “Rest now. I shall care for you.”
It was like Rosa was filled to the brim, suddenly, so quiet and easy and safe, wrapped in her clever lord’s arms. So she settled her head on his shoulder, drew in a deep, contented breath, and slept.
20
When Rosa awoke the next morning, she half-expected to find a mountain at war. Full of armed and furious orcs, ready to battle against the dukes and lords — including, perhaps, Lord Kaspar — who were beating with swords and catapults upon the orcs’ doorstep.
But instead, there was only a surprisingly calm-looking John, sitting fully dressed at the opposite end of the bed, and gripping another basket full of food and milk. “Yes, those fool men yet live, and shall likely leave today,” he said curtly, in answer to Rosa’s careful question, as he passed over the basket. “We shall now have a few days’ peace before what next shall come. Now eat, pet, and drink, whilst I read to you.”
Rosa blinked owlishly toward his face, and then down to his other hand. Which, incredibly, was indeed holding a book. And not just any book, but — her heart gave an off-kilter patter —herbook.The Lady Bright.
“Truly?” she asked, her voice high-pitched, and she belatedly stuffed a piece of cheese into her mouth. “Would you, then — maybe — consider starting it over? So you know what’s happening?”
John’s claw had already opened the book to the middle, to the exact place Rosa had stopped reading. But at her suggestion, he actually shrugged, and obligingly flipped back to the first page.
His voice was low and smooth as he began to read, telling of the wronged lady trapped in the vile prison, and Rosa felt herself sigh with deep, undeniable contentment as the words washed into her. Who would ever have thought that anorccould read so beautifully, his voice easy and expressive, the tale rising to colourful, vivid life with every page he turned…
Rosa was truly sorry when he stopped, her little basket of breakfast entirely empty — but then was the equally exciting discovery that John had actually arranged for her to have abath. And that a shadowy door on the back wall of his bedroom was actually a fulllatrine, complete with some kind of remarkable piping contraption to bring in hot water.
“Goodgods, John,” Rosa gasped, as she eased her suddenly filthy-feeling body into the steel basin he’d filled, and into the powerful, fundamental thrill of warm, liquid pleasure all over. “This is an absolutemarvel.”
John didn’t reply, but instead only handed her what appeared to be a bar of genuine, strong-smelling soap. It was an order, clearly, but one that Rosa couldn’t even pretend to resist, and she immediately set to scrubbing herself all over. While John — her hand froze, mid-scrub — moved around to kneel behind her, and began combing her hairwith his claws.
It led to an orc silentlywashing Rosa’s hair, in a dark, stone-walled, surprisingly cozy latrine. And in that moment, with her head willingly tilted back, and John’s claws softly scraping at her scalp, Rosa couldn’t help the rising, nagging suspicion that in another world, another life, becoming an orc’s pet might be an occupation worth serious exploration.
“Thank you, my lord,” she murmured, once John drew her out of the tub again, her bare body squeaky clean, her damp hair now plaited down her back in a neat new braid. “This was — excessively kind of you.”
John led her naked form back out of the latrine, and into the dim warmth of the larger, lamplit bedroom. “I swore to care for you,” he said, as he came to a halt beside a stone shelf Rosa hadn’t noticed before, and pulled off what appeared to be a clean grey tunic. “Now, I shall dress you.”
Rosa blinked, but willingly complied as he drew the tunic over her head. It was just as large as his last one had been, hanging down to her thighs, fitting far more like a voluminous dress — but this time, John also reached for a long black strip of leather, and tied it loosely around her waist. Creating an effect almost indeed like a dress, if not for the shorter length of it, or the dangerously deep slit at the neck.
“Good,” John said, casting an assessing gaze up and down Rosa’s form. “Now come.”
Again, there was no thought of refusing. Only slipping her hand into his warm one, and allowing him to lead her out the door, and into the corridor. He’d again brought a lamp, illuminating the stone walls with a flickering orange glow, and Rosa felt her hopefulness rising as they walked, the corridor tilting steadily upward under her padding bare feet.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked. “The library?”
