Maria’s heart was thumping erratically, her gaze frozen on his, waiting — and Simon’s mouth twitched up, into something that might have been meant as a smile. “Joarr spoke truth, ach?” he said, and his hand spread against Maria’s face, tilting it up. “You are fairest woman ever I set eyes upon. Your scent is so ripe, so sweet. You are hearty and eager and kind. All your strongfeelingreads true on your scent and your face, and you shall thusneverplay game with me, or hide your truth from me. You are all” — his throat convulsed again — “all an Enforcer should ever wish for, ach?”
Oh.Oh. So Simonhadwanted her, then. He’dchosenher. He’d… come to meet her that day on the road, in hopes of forging a…bondwith her?
And yes, yes, that was true in his watching eyes, in the weight of his exhale. In the way his hand lingered on her cheek, as though he still craved this touch. This memory of that moment.
“And this was good, ach?” he whispered, fierce. “When I met you. When you touched me. I tasted your hunger for me. I tasted your peace, in my arms. Yourtrustin me.”
And despite everything this orc had done, despite her ringing shock at all these words, Maria felt herself… nodding. Agreeing. There had been peace, there, in that moment. Just like the peace she’d found with him afterwards, again and again and again.
“But,” Simon continued, his hand dropping, “this was also wrong. Ach? This broke the ways of the Skai. All my kin knew you were no mine to take. I could have led a rut upon you, and rightly gained you thus, but” — he grimaced — “even had I wished for this, I could no have borne it. No after tasting your trust in me thus.”
There was something thick in Maria’s throat, and she fought to swallow it back as Simon barked a sound that might have been a laugh. “And next, you tell me you wish tosellto me,” he said, hoarse. “And all breaks apart from this. You say you shall take any orc, even after I put scent upon you. You again and again speak false to me. You fear me. You fight me and shame me when I seek to claim you as mine. I am sure” — his hand again rubbed at his mouth — “you yet serve this husband. This duke. Thiswar.”
Maria’s eyes had closed, pained, because gods, this explainedso much. Simon thought she’d been aspy, this entire time. He’d thought she’d come here not of desperation, or revenge — but to start awar.
“B-but,” Maria stammered, her thoughts grasping at scattered words, memories, truth. “You questioned me. Again and again. And I told you the truth. Idid.”
Her voice cracked on the last, and when she opened her eyes again Simon was nodding. “Ach,” he said, quieter. “I ken. You hate husband. You hunger for me, and my cleansing. When husband’s war come, you fear this. You fear this as strong as you fear Ulfarr. So why you yet speak false to me? Why you yet hide from me? I seek to learn you, I seek to show you truth and kindness and teach you the deep ways of my clan, and” — she felt his exhale against her skin — “stillyou speak false to me. You hide your deepest truth. You hide who youare.”
His eyes glittered as he spoke, his claw jabbing toward her chest. And it suddenly felt like he’d peeled her tunic away, and then her very skin. Like those eyes were following the tip of that claw, seeing straight through her ribs, into her heart. Her self.
“B-because,” Maria whispered, trapped, exposed, stricken. “I didn’twantto be that person anymore. I didn’twantto be a hysterical, unwanted, childless duchess, forever tied to a man I hate. I wanted” — she tried to smile, why couldn’t she smile — “I wanted you to cleanse it away. Iwantedyou to Enforce me. I wanted you to turn me into your real mate, a real Skai. I wanted you to make me — intomyselfagain.”
Something new flashed through Simon’s eyes, something that surely spoke of comprehension, or perhaps even pain. “Ach,” he said, his voice rough. “Ach.NowI ken, woman. But it no work thus, ach? When I Enforce, I seek truth. This must first come to light, ach? And next —next— we face what this shows.”
Oh. Right. And this truth had shown… what? That Simon had lied to her, all this time. That Maria had lied to him. And that — her brain sifted back, back, wait, had he just said —
“Did you just say,whenwar came?” she whispered. “When myhusband’swar came?”
And there it was, perhaps the worst blow of them all, flaring across Simon’s black eyes. Because yes, yes he had said that, he’d meant that, and abruptly Maria was thinking, again, of all the times he’d disappeared to — towork, leaving her alone, and then he’d returned, and —
“You’ve been fighting my husband’s war?” she whispered. “For how long?”
Simon’s shoulders rose and fell, and suddenly he just looked tired, worn, empty. “Your husband’s men followed you here,” he said. “He set a bounty upon your return this next day. Bands of men have swarmed our mountain each day since.”
Maria couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stop staring at those empty, resigned eyes. There’d been a war, all this time. A new war against the orcs, because of her. Because despite all her efforts, all her carefully laid plans, Maria had — she had —
She had handed her husband exactly —exactly— what he’d wanted. Proof of the orcs’ aggression toward him. Undeniable cause for war.
And now, what was left? Now that Maria was pregnant, and bound to both a duke and an orc? Now that she’d ruined everything — her plans, her freedom, her safety? Whatever this had been, between her and Simon, that had, yes, given her such peace?
There was nothing, nothing but emptiness and defeat. So heavy, so alone, so much to bear — and finally Maria bowed her head under its weight, and wept.
29
Maria didn’t know how long she stood there weeping, while Simon stood there and watched. While neither of them spoke a word.
And gods, Maria should have spoken. Should have yelled, begged, railed against him. Should have demanded how someone who hated games so much could play one like this.
But she couldn’t speak, couldn’t stop, and when she felt that familiar warm strength step closer toward her, she couldn’t push it away, either. Couldn’t even begin to resist the powerful, painful comfort of those arms plucking her bodily up against him, tucking her whole to his broad chest, her ear against his rapidly thundering heart.
And curse him, but it helped. And so did the movement, the easy silent steps of his feet, as he strode out of Baldr’s room, down the corridor, and back into his familiar room again. As he set her down on the soft furs, stealing his warmth away from her, even as his big hands wiped at her wet cheeks with careful, stilted gentleness.
“I fetch — help, ach?” his voice rasped above her. “I come back soon, my brave one.”
Hisbraveone. But before Maria could follow, blink at that, he abruptly turned and strode away, out the door. And whatever composure Maria had just found somehow fully vanished with him, and the misery flooded her again, even worse than before. He’d lied to her. She’d lied to him. And what happened now, what came next? Her husband had set a bounty, he’d said, men had swarmed the mountain, and she was pregnant with a lying orc’s son, and —
And then — Lady Norr strode in. Wearing her men’s trousers, her long braid slung over her shoulder, her eyes dark and regretful on Maria’s face. And behind her, again, was Simon — but rather than following her into the room, he’d leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes strangely bright in the lamplight.
