An unmistakable amusement twinkled in his eyes, and he again inclined his head — but not before Gwyn caught the flash of triumph there, too. Because wait, had she just implied that thiswasn’tonly about today? That this terribly ill-advised deal with this terribly manipulative orc might extend until… when? Not her remaining twenty-two days until her father’s deadline, surely?
“Ach, I follow,” Joarr said, his voice cool, as if they were discussing the weather or dinner plans, rather than a tangled, twisted, tit-for-tat transaction that surely flouted all good sense. “You shall thus stay true to me also, ach?”
Oh. Something clutched tight in Gwyn’s belly — he cared about her loyalty, too? — and she couldn’t seem to raise her eyes as she jerked a curt, quick nod. Saying, surely,Yes.Only you.
There was an unintelligible sound from Joarr, deep and low — but when Gwyn glanced up, his eyes were all light again, sparkling down toward her. And his hand had once again slipped to her face, tilting it up, so easy, so proprietary. As if she truly were his, for now. For today. And surely, that was all…
“Then come to my home, my fierce little witch,” he purred, “and show me all you can do.”
13
If Gwyn’s primary goal was to take Orc Mountain in stride, she utterly failed at her first attempt.
The rest of their journey had taken them through ever-thicker forest, blocking the sight of Orc Mountain above — and when Joarr finally led her out of the trees, and halted at a solid-looking rock wall, she found herself looking up, and up, and up. At a sheer, craggy, deadly stone monstrosity, looming over them like a brooding giant, blasting its black smoke to the sky.
“Well,” Gwyn said, rubbing at her mouth, fighting to wrestle down the sudden waves of rolling, rioting panic. “I don’t suppose — your garden — might be, um, out here, somewhere?”
She flapped her hands at the thick forest around them, which was obviously horribly suited for a garden, and Joarr smirked at her as he strode undaunted toward the stone wall. “My garden is under the sun, ach,” he said coolly, “but it is only found from inside.”
Of course it was, and Gwyn made a face, and squared her shoulders. “Right,” she replied, her voice thick. “How do we get in, then.”
For an instant, Joarr didn’t answer, and she could feel the weight of his eyes, prickling her skin beneath them. “My orc brothers no harm you,” he said. “My scent now hangs heavy upon you, ach?”
Right. So he’d made some kind of…claimon her, then, through what they’d done. And while Gwyn had been trying quite desperately to shove down her memory of what had happened in the tree, it had hovered over the rest of their journey with a nagging, twisting tenacity. The way he’d looked. The way he’d felt. And of all things, the way he’dlaughed.
“Come,” he said, and that was the unmistakable feel of his warm hand, spreading easy and proprietary against Gwyn’s arse. “Find morefunwith me. Ach?”
Something hot and hungry swelled in Gwyn’s belly, and she couldn’t quite look at him as she twitched a jerky nod. But that hand gave her a satisfied little pat before he strode the rest of the way to the sheer wall of the mountain, and heaved his shoulder against it.
And to Gwyn’s gaping astonishment, it moved.Tilted. As though the rough, jagged stone were installed on some sort of hinge, turning to reveal a narrow sliver of blackness beyond.
Joarr glanced back at her, brows raised, his typical taunting smile curling at his mouth — and somehow, Gwyn mustered the courage to follow him toward that inscrutable darkness. Toward Orc Mountain.
She was doing this for her garden, she told herself, as she stepped inside, and the rock crunched shut behind her. Making her own way.
But as she stood there, suddenly enclosed in cool pitch-darkness, the panic began flailing again, clawing at her ribs. Good gods, she was inOrc Mountain, she couldn’t see a damned thing, what if they were surrounded by vicious deadly orcs at this very moment —
“Come,” Joarr’s voice repeated, close in the darkness, as his warm hand again found her arse, and nudged her forward. “I no walk you into wall, ach?”
The sound of his voice was unnervingly comforting, and Gwyn dragged in breath, and took a tentative step forward. Finding, indeed, only more empty air before her in the blackness, and earning another approving pat of Joarr’s hand.
“Where are you walking me, then?” she asked, perhaps out of curiosity, perhaps out of a shameful need to hear his voice again. “To your garden, right?”
There was an instant’s hesitation, even as Joarr’s hand nudged her into another cautious step, and another. “No yet,” he said, his voice distinctly casual. “Must first bring you to Captain, and next my clan. Show them new midwife, come to care for women.Afterthis, we find fun in garden, ach?”
Oh. Of course. Because that was the highly ill-advised plan Gwyn had foolishly signed onto, wasn’t it?Show me your mettle and your wits and your hunger,he’d said,then I show you more fun.
And as she allowed herself to be ushered down a pitch-black corridor, ever deeper into Orc Mountain, she couldn’t at all recall why she’d ever agreed to such a ridiculous scheme. Especially when it clearly worked almost entirely to Joarr’s advantage, if he decided to walk away right now she would be trapped, lost,doomed—
“No all our paths are so dark,” his voice cut in again. “Many now bear lamps, to help guide humans’ eyes. But we are sure to meet other orcs in those, ach? I wish my captain to learn of you first.”
Gwyn’s panic had slightly settled again, her thoughts fixed on the damnable comfort of his voice. “And who is your captain?” she asked, perhaps just to keep him talking. “And is he captain of your clan? Of the…Bautul? Or of all the orcs?”
“Of all this mountain,” Joarr replied, with another approving — and infuriatingly comforting — pat of his hand. “And he is Grimarr, of Clan Ash-Kai. He has my fealty, and my favour.”
Gwyn couldn’t help mentally comparing that to his tepid praise for his own clan —they have my like, he’d said — but before she could ask what made this Grimarr so superior, Joarr had guided her sideways, and suddenly intolight.
Or rather, a room. A snug, stone-walled room, with a low table in the middle of it, and a fire merrily crackling in the opposite wall. And in the dancing firelight, there were —orcs. Three huge, vicious, deadly-looking orcs, all sitting on the floor around the table, and staring at her with glittering black eyes.
