What use did she have. Maria stared at him for an instant too long, as her clammy hands clutched compulsively in her lap, crushing the costly silk of her skirts. As the panic crept higher, closer, rattling against her ribs.
She needed the money to run.
She’d been formulating the plan for the better part of a year. Researching her options, mapping routes, purchasing supplies. Planning, secretly, for a new life. A better life, all the way across the realm, where she could start over. Find freedom. Escape this man’s clutches, for good.
Because by this point, Maria knew very well, the public demise of her marriage was only a matter of time. And of how thoroughly — and how permanently — her husband would decide to dispose of his irrational, inconvenient liability of a wife.
She had to run. Shehadto.
“That money,” she managed, far too late, “had sentimental value. It was meant as a gift from my father, for mychildren.”
But she winced even as she said it, and once again, her husband didn’t bother trying to hide his smirk. “I’m afraid I can’t help you there, wife,” he said. “Sentimental doesn’t cut it anymore. Not when the entire realm is fighting for its verysurvival.”
Wait. Maria felt her forehead furrowing, her head tilting. “It is?” she asked. “Good heavens,how? Againstwho?!”
Her husband’s brows slightly rose, the smirk curling tighter on his lips. “Against theorcs, wife,” he drawled at her. “You know, the cruel, cunning, bloodthirsty beasts, wreaking terror and havoc across the realm? Wielding their deadly black magic, and stealing away hapless women likeyou, so you can bear them their foul killersons?”
Maria stared at her husband, while the incredulity jolted higher, hotter. Gods, not this again. This man had stolenhermoney, so he could throw it away onorcs?!
“But — the war with the orcs isover,” she protested, her voice rising. “They signed that comprehensivepeace-treatywith their neighbouring provinces last year. A treatyyourCouncil publiclyratified, and which both parties have adhered to ever since. You have no remaining responsibility toward the orcswhatsoever.”
But her husband only kept gazing at her, brows lifted, as Maria battled down the rapidly rising urge to leap up, and hurl her chair straight into the fire-grate. Those blasted orcs were a distraction, awaste, a dwindling pack of wildbeastswho squatted under a single mountain half a continent away. And her husband’s ongoing obsession with them was utter ludicrousabsurdity, on a level with railing against a feral passel ofmonkeyswho lived beneath the fuckingsea.
“My father’s inheritance hasnothingto do withorcs,” Maria tried again, over the pounding in her skull. “There must besomethingyou can do to restore it to me.Please.”
But she hated the words even as she heard them, because surely this was exactly the game her husband had meant to play today. His irritating, hysterical wife reduced to begging for his mercy, while he lounged comfortably in his bed, and smiled. And while a respectable, reliable witness listened to every word, just outside the half-open door.
Difficult. Overwrought. Too out of control to tolerate any longer…
“Despite your delusional opinions,darling, the orcs still pose a significant threat,” Duke Warmisham countered, his voice rather flatter than before. “Perhaps you’ll enjoy hearing that those ugly green beasts areveryinterested in women like you? Women with money. Withstanding.”
They were? Maria blinked, and desperately forced her raging brain to follow, tothink. Yes, she supposed, therehadbeen a few isolated, rumour-ridden incidents out west, in which the orcs had reportedly seduced several wealthy, high-profile women. Unfortunate, to be sure — but it had all still transpired half a continent away, and paled in comparison to all the far more pressing priorities Duke Warmisham should be addressing here at home. Problems like hunger, poverty, disease.Injustice.
“That still doesn’t explain whymyinheritance was taken,” Maria said, fighting to keep her voice even. “Surely you don’t expectI’llnext be seduced by orcs?”
She’d meant it as sarcasm, as an utter laughable impossibility — but something, something new, had flicked across her husband’s face. Something that deepened the lines around his thin mouth, darkened the shadows under his cool grey eyes.
“Those orcs are vile, cunning bastards,” he snapped. “They’ve been blatantly targeting nobility across the realm. And I’m well aware that they’d love nothing more than to publiclyruinme, just like they did to Norr.”
Like they did to Norr. In truth, that onehadhit closer to home, despite the distance — Lord Norr had been a longtime friend of Duke Warmisham’s, and his supposedly barren wife had indeed been stolen away by orcs last year. The messy matter had ended with Lord Norr’s untimely demise, as well as Lady Norr’s permanent disappearance, and an ongoing feeding frenzy for gossips throughout the realm.
Norr’s better off dead, the whispers went.His legacy is destroyed. A lord, in the prime of his life, cuckolded by an orc.
But to Maria, who was now far too inured to busybodies’ whispering, the whole business had still reeked of distraction, of utter absurdity. Yes, it had been a targeted attack by the orcs, and probably even a clever one, because it had ultimately led to the peace treaty the orcs had wanted. The peace treaty her husband’s Council had publiclyratified. Which should have been the end of the entire ridiculous matter, for good.
Maria’s head was pounding louder, and she rubbed at her temples, drew in breath. “Lord Norr lived on the orcs’doorstep,” she said, “and he was notoriously cheap with his security. He was an easy target. That kind of attack wouldneverhappen here.”
It was true — beyond the far greater distance, Duke Warmisham was also a far more calculating man than Norr had been. He was a man whose fortress of a house was so well staffed, so well guarded and protected, that it had taken Maria all these months to plan her escape. And now it wasruined.
“Warring against the orcs is awaste,” Maria continued, her voice cracking. “It’s like raging against thewind. It gains younothing. It’s a massive drain on our province’s already-strained resources, and on your very valuable time. Many of your advisors have repeatedly warned you against it. Even your cleverestson.”
But she was treading deadly ground now — her husband loathed dissenters, and any reminders thereof — and she could see his mouth thinning, his eyes angling narrow toward her. “Kaspar and my advisors were targeted and compromised,briefly, by the orcs’ devious propaganda campaigns,” he countered. “And I am not warring against anyone —yet. I only protect the safety of my provinces. Mypeople. My own dearwife.”
That was truly ludicrous, on all counts, and Maria ground her teeth, fought down the words that were clamouring for escape. “I willnotbe kidnapped by orcs,” she insisted. “I want my money back.Please.”
But her husband didn’t even look at her this time, and drummed his gold-ringed fingers against his bare chest. “No,” he said. “But rest assured, wife, that it will support a noble cause.”
Maria’s throat barked out an unfamiliar noise, her hands gripping painfully at her chair. “Warring against orcs isn’tnoble!” her mouth hissed, on its own, before she could stop it. “It’s utter foolishabsurdity, a useless vanity project to make yourself seem powerful. And likely also some kind of deep-seated terror that some day, women will decide they’d rather risk the realm’s most savagebeaststhan stay with the likes ofyou!”
