Maria almost wanted to laugh at the last bit, but she was too busy wiping at her eyes, fighting at the thoughts screaming in her skull. Gods, what if Ulfarr defeated Simon. What if her son somehow ended up in Ulfarr’s hands. What if…
The vision of Bjorn flashed across her brain, sickening enough that Maria had to clap her hand over her mouth — and now here was Efterar again, his hand settling against Maria’s neck. “Deep breaths,” he told her, as the worst of the nausea faded. “Are you sure you don’t want to rest, Maria?”
Maria could only seem to wave it away, erratic, frantic, and suddenly she couldn’t stand to sit here for another instant. She was pregnant, her son was already at risk, and her son’s father had known.
He’dknown, and he’d done it anyway. Because…
She is only woman I buy. You ken I no think of this, when I buy ripe, yielding woman to bear me a son, with no hunt, and no rut?
Because this had always been about Simon’s job. His people. His future.
Something seemed to crumple, deep in Maria’s chest — and she leapt to her feet, grasped for the lamp, and lurched for the door. Just needing to get away from Simon, away from everything, and she rushed through the corridor, unseeing, unthinking, fighting back the wild, wailing urge to weep.
Simon had said so many lovely things, he’d been so kind lately, so patient. It had almost begun to feel safe, like home, but that was still because — because —
Maria clutched at her belly and ran faster, dodging around the occasional orcs she encountered. Searching desperately for familiar landmarks, yes that corridor, that ridge in the wall, lamps ending and light fading, yes, this was their room, no, Simon’s room. And suddenly she couldn’t bear to even look inside it, so she rushed a little further, shivering and weeping, and burst into Baldr’s room instead.
But godsdamnit, Baldr wasn’t alone, he was with Drafli — and they weren’t touching this time. And instead, Baldr was pacing the room, stripped to the waist, and…shouting.
“You could at least,” he barked at Drafli, his hands clutched in fists at his sides, “have the courtesy to wait until I’m out of the wing. Or to avoid the damnedcorridor. Do you not know what thatsmellslike?!”
Drafli was standing perfectly still before Baldr, his face set and unreadable, until his clawed hand made a series of stiff-looking gestures. To which Baldr loudly scoffed, and flicked another gesture back.
“Iknowthat’s the point,” he retorted. “You need to prove, again and again, to every Skai in this mountain, that you aren’t mated to another orc. That your precious Skai ways arealwaysmore important to you than I am!”
Drafli’s hands snapped out another series of gestures, one of them jerking toward — Maria. And even though she was backing away, stumbling for the corridor again, the damage was surely already done. Baldr’s whole body stiffening in place, his red-rimmed eyes darting to her face — and then dropping, too, to her waist. And suddenly his shoulders sagged, and Maria could see the effort it took him to turn away from Drafli, and step closer toward her.
“Maria,” he said, his voice thick. “What is amiss? I am sorry I did not” — his throat convulsed — “smell you there.”
And shit,shit, because behind him Drafli’s eyes had dangerously flashed, his lips curling up in a feral-looking snarl. And he swept over too, standing far too close, and Maria was unnervingly aware of his height, his lean coiled strength. Of the sheer visceralhatredin his eyes as he looked at her.
And when he turned back to Baldr, Maria could almost taste the derision, the rage — and he again made another series of hand gestures, matched this time by his mouth. Speaking aloud, or so it seemed — but his voice was a hoarse rasp, breathy and strange, quieter than a whisper.
“You only care,” it hissed, “untilwomanshow up. Youthankme, someday.”
With that, he spun on his heel and strode off, pointed and silent, leaving Maria alone with Baldr. Who was staring after Drafli, his throat convulsing, his face deathly pale — and suddenly Maria felt wretched, awful, the misery bubbling and curdling inside.
“Gods, I’msosorry, Baldr,” she gasped. “Please go, work this out with him, I’mfine.”
But Baldr’s brow had creased, the concern shifting in his too-bright eyes. “I can barelylookat him, when he smells like that,” he said, choked. “And you” — he stepped back and inhaled, his chest visibly filling, his gaze dropping again to her waist — “you are due my congratulations, ach? Your son already smells strong and hale, just like Simon. Likeyou.”
He flashed Maria a genuine, wavering smile, and though Maria desperately wanted to smile back, she couldn’t even seem to make her mouth move. Couldn’t seem to make anything move — at least, until she felt the familiar, telling prickle, lingering on her back.
It was as though it had caught her, reeled her around like a fish on a cruel hook. Making her look at the huge, bruised, battered orc standing silently in the doorway, his eyes just as dark and distant as Drafli’s had been.Simon.
“Leave Baldr be, woman,” he said, his voice heavy and deep. “Come.”
And gods, it was so — presumptuous, so arrogant, soinfuriating. For an orc who’d just lied to her all day — who’d perhaps lied to her since she’d come here — to be controlling who she wanted to see, in this moment? When she’d just found out she waspregnant? With his son, who would forever be in danger? Because of Simon’s horrible job, and his horrible clan’s horribleways?!
“No,” Maria hissed at him, her voice cracking. “No, Simon. You donotget to throw your commands at me, after this. After yousworeyou wouldn’t play games with me!”
Something hard and dangerous passed through Simon’s eyes, and he shifted in the doorway, his arms folding over his bruised, still-bloody chest. “Ineverplay game with you,” he growled. “I never speak false to you. I keep you safe. Ihonouryou.”
The words seemed to suck Maria’s breath away, and she stared at his forbidding face, at the sheer fuckingaudacityof that claim. And for a skittering, hanging moment, for the first time indays, she was briefly, viciously reminded of herhusband. Sitting so coolly in his silk sheets, speaking his lies so calmly, so rationally. Making Maria question her own truth.
And that day with her husband, as on so many days with him, Maria had…hidden. Concealed her real self under the exterior he’d expected to see. Met him on the terms he’d established.Enabledhim.
But no. Not anymore. Maria was done with hiding. With lying. With pretending and placating and pasting appropriate expressions on her face, on her heart. She was fuckingdone.
