He smiled back down toward her, slow and indulgent, and then actually proceeded to guide her over to the watching group of orcs, introducing them by name. Something he’d done more and more these past days, and Maria had begun to recognize, just from Simon’s stance and his eyes, which orcs were on his side against Ulfarr, and which stood opposed.
And it was the latter orcs — including this shifty-eyed bunch — who were consistently the most obvious in their suspicion and dislike toward Maria, and humans in general. But she was still hellbent on honouring Simon, and she’d quickly learned that he was most pleased when she would smile sweetly at any new orcs he introduced, and then lean into him, or reach up and kiss his neck, or slide her hand over his firm rounded arse.
“Afteryour lessons, greedy woman,” Simon purred at her this time, once she’d gotten a good grip at his rear — and then he grasped for her other hand, and brazenly cupped it against the already-swelling bulge at the front of his trousers. “You must first earn your next reward from me, ach? Now, which lesson first, fighting or hunting?”
Maria shot him a grin that wasn’t even slightly feigned — she’d begun to look forward to his daily lessons with genuine excitement — and eagerly pulled him past the watching orcs, and out into the corridor. “Fighting first,” she said, “and then hunting? Please?”
Simon grinned back, wolfish and wicked, and obligingly escorted her to the arena. Where they proceeded to spend a thoroughly enjoyable afternoon together, with Simon teaching Maria with both blades and fists. Followed by another round of what had indeed proved to be hunting lessons — seeking to find him in the darkness, learning to identify and follow disparate scents, moving as quietly as possible, navigating the twisty Skai wing without light or assistance.
“Do you think I could practice hunting tomorrow, while you work?” Maria asked him, once they’d returned to his room, and were both lying sated and entwined on his bed. “By myself, I mean? Just in the corridors nearest here?”
She’d tried to keep her voice casual — she was truly trying not to ask for too much these days, doing her damnedest to honour and obey him. But after such a thoroughly delightful whirl of activity, the prospect of spending another day trapped alone in this room felt even more disheartening, more daunting, than before.
“Ach, no,” Simon instantly replied, his head shaking. “No alone. Ask Baldr to take you, ach?”
But Baldr had actually been remarkably busy these past days, too. Either he was holed up in his room with the ever-vicious Drafli, as telltale gasps and moans emanated from the door, or he was off at important-sounding meetings. And in his absence, his room was regularly occupied by a rotation of Simon’s scouts, Killik and Halthorr and Fulnir. None of whom were the talkative type, and all of whom seemed to spend nearly as much time sharpening their weapons as Simon did.
“Right,” Maria belatedly said, angling her eyes away from Simon, fighting to ignore the heavy plunge in her gut. “Right. I’ll ask Baldr if he’s free.”
But as usual, Simon missed very little, and his warm hand caught Maria’s face, tilting it back toward him. “I ken this is no easy, ach?” he said, to her vague surprise. “No Skai wishes to be held thus. We wish to run and hunt free and easy under the sky. But —”
He broke off there, his brows knitting together, his mouth betraying an unmistakable grimace. As if he surely hadn’t meant to say that, because — what? He still didn’t trust Maria? Or he still didn’t trust his kin? Or both?
“Rosa-Ka came back to the mountain, last eve,” he said abruptly, his voice curt. “I shall ask her to come see you tomorrow whilst I work, ach?”
Maria attempted a smile, which Simon rewarded with a hungry nuzzle at her neck, a meaningful grip of his hand to her hip. And as he again drove her against the furs, it was almost easy to forget that little nagging darkness in her belly. Simon wanted her. She would prove this to him, and become a true Skai.
The next day’s visit with Rosa helped too, especially when Rosa eagerly commiserated about over-working orcs, and told Maria a lively tale about how John had recently refused to sleep for four days, and had then fallen asleep while walking through the corridor. She also oohed and aahed over Maria’s cleaning efforts, and said Baldr had put in an order for hooks, and she was quite sure it had been done, and perhaps she would go fetch Tristan and ask?
Maria grimaced at the thought, because she still held no desire whatsoever to see the handsome Tristan again, let alone his mocking mate — but Rosa had already bounded off, and soon returned with the pair of them in tow, as well as a bucket full of what indeed proved to be iron hooks.
“Thank you for having us, Maria,” Tristan said softly, his face unmistakably flushed. “We should be honoured to help you today, ach? If you are sure you shall welcome this?”
He’d cast an uncertain glance toward his mate — Salvi — as he spoke, but this Salvi was smiling too, and looking distinctly apologetic. “I’ll happily wait outside, if you like,” he said, with a wry twitch toward the door. “But I assure you, decorating Simon’s room will be its own special penance for my thoughtlessness toward you, ach?”
Maria couldn’t help a reluctant laugh, and despite her unease, she soon found herself caught up in their easy, cheerful banter. And thanks to Simon’s lessons, as well as her own observations, she now knew which of his weapons were used for what, and which ones he usually took out together, and therefore, which hanging locations would likely be best for each of them.
Salvi and Tristan managed the actual hanging, which turned out to be an arduous process that required shocking amounts of twisting and hammering. But they repeatedly refused Maria and Rosa’s help, doggedly hanging one weapon, and then another, until the floor was finally, fully clear. And the room felt so large, suddenly, so open, and Maria twirled in the middle of it, laughing, revelling in the foreign feeling of free movement under her feet.
“Thank you,” she said, with a true grin toward them both. “You’ve beensokind.”
They both waved it away, Tristan’s face again flushed with red, Salvi’s flashing her a warm, wry smile. And then, to Maria’s ongoing astonishment, they went off to collect a broom and mop from somewhere — and after yet another flurry of cheerful orc activity, Simon’s room was bright, organized, and sparkling clean.
Maria could scarcely wait for Simon’s return that night, and it was thoroughly gratifying to see him lurch to stillness in the doorway, his tired eyes blinking blankly at his new room. And despite the fact that he was once again covered with an assortment of mysterious new cuts and bruises, Maria bit back the urge to ask questions, and instead darted over to grasp his hands, and draw him inside.
“Please tell me you like it?” she said, with a hopeful smile. “But if you don’t, I will happily put Salvi to work again to fix it.”
Simon huffed a loud snort, but he was smiling back down at her, crooked, slow. “Ach, this pleases me,” he murmured. “You are surely due a strong reward for this.”
His rewards had become something of a formality these past days, perhaps even a game — but Maria certainly wasn’t about to refuse. At least, until Simon actually winced as he tossed her onto the bed, and then reached back to do something to his shoulder that made a loud, unnervingcrack.
And Maria would gain his trust, shewould— so she again choked down the question, and grasped for him, and nudged him over onto his back. “You can reward me later,” she said, twitching a grin toward him. “Ach?”
There was indeed something like relief in his eyes, or perhaps even reverence, as Maria tossed off her tunic, climbed aboard, and slowly seated herself deep upon him. And once he’d howled out his pleasure, pouring her full of his molten heat, he dragged her up to straddle his hungry, licking mouth. Not seeming to care in the least that he was swallowing copious amounts of his own mess, and instead lavishing her with his clever lips and tongue until she was yanking at his hair, and shouting his name to the ceiling.
Afterwards, it was again easy to forget the nagging darkness, to fall asleep in Simon’s warm arms. At least, until the next morning, when Maria awoke to find him already dressed and ready to leave again, his gleaming scimitar strapped to his side.
“You seem to have a lot… going on, right now,” she ventured, once he’d beckoned her over to the bench, and handed her his shaving-knife. “Is there any other… permanent Enforcing you still need to finish?”
