And gods, her eyes were prickling again, her smile feeling almost painful on her face. And she was trapped here, buried under this dark imposing mountain, surrounded by this sea of strange speaking orcs. While her heart began frantically skipping beats, her eyes now desperately blinking, and she would not weep here, she wouldnot—
“Come, woman,” cut in a clipped voice, and when Gwyn whipped toward it, it was Joarr. Still with that empty smile on his face, though he’d at least pulled up his trousers, and his arm was circling around her shoulders, guiding her off the altar. “You are sure to be weary, ach?”
Gwyn somehow managed a nod, while still keeping the painful smile pasted to her own face. “Yes, I suppose, thank you,” she said, her voice bright, her eyes casting unseeing at the still-watching orcs around them. “Thank you all for welcoming me so kindly. And” — she glanced at the crackling fire — “I offer my thanks to the goddess, as well.”
There were multiple nods and murmurs of approval, suggesting that this had at least been the proper response. And did that mean it was over, please let it be over, she’d damn well done it, and now…
Joarr was saying more words in the black-tongue, purring smooth from his throat, and then finally,finally, he ushered Gwyn back toward the corridor, in the direction they’d come. And he’d somehow even grabbed her lamp, which she’d entirely forgotten about, until this moment.
Gwyn numbly walked beside him, the noise fading behind them, the only light now from the lamp in his hand. Revealing a variety of square doors cut into the stone corridor, and several forking branches off both sides, but she couldn’t even seem to make herself notice, or find a way to stop the misery pooling behind her eyes.
“Is there somewhere we could talk for a moment?” she heard her distant voice croak. “In private? Preferably near a latrine?”
The fact that Orc Mountain had latrines was pure presumption on her part, but Joarr didn’t argue it, and accordingly guided her toward one of the nearby doors. Into a small, stone-walled room that appeared to be empty, but turned out to have a hole cut into the floor at the back, with steps circling downwards. And when Joarr silently gestured toward these, Gwyn staggered down them, moving so fast she tripped — but Joarr had swiftly snapped forward, catching her arm in his iron grip.
“Take care, woman,” he muttered, the first words he’d said since they’d left that damned degrading room. And once they’d reached the bottom of the staircase — opening up into yet another empty stone room — Gwyn finally spun her shaky body to face him, her hands in fists, her chest heaving with her shallow, straining breaths.
“What,” she gasped, “thehell, asshole. Why didn’t youtellme?!”
Joarr’s face was all stark shadows in the lamplight, his mouth tight, his eyes unreadable. “I tell you,” he said, voice thin. “Toldyou.”
Gwyn gaped at him, her heart still stuttering, while something new seemed to clutch at her chest, wrenching powerfully against it. Because of course he wasn’t wrong, the utter bastard. Hehadtold her.Wish to learn my clan’s ways? Show me your hunger, before all my kin.
And yes, Gwyn had accepted it, agreed to it, and hadn’t even asked a single damned question. Because maybe — maybe she hadn’t wanted to know. Or maybe — she dragged her shivering hands against her hair — she’d wanted to trust him. Curse her cursed life, she’d wanted to trust him.
“You still could have said,” she finally replied, her voice plaintive. “There was ahellof a lot more you could have said. How about, ‘Hey Gwyn, by the way, this means I’m going to pound you naked on an altar, while thirty terrifying strangers leer at us. And also, they’re even going to judge our performance, by the nebulous standards of some godawful deity you’ve never evenheardof before!”
Something shifted in Joarr’s eyes, and he barked a low, bitter laugh — but he didn’t actually reply. Not even making an attempt, the insufferable prick, and Gwyn felt the tightness in her chest skittering, tilting toward incredulity, towardrage.
“Why didn’t you tell me,” she hissed at him. “You thought I’d refuse? You thought I wouldn’t go through with it? Is that why?”
Joarr’s eyes shifted again, hinting at something almost likeamusement, biting and grim. “No,” he replied, short. “I saw you would do this. I knew.”
Heknew. And for an instant, Gwyn could only stare at him, her mouth agape, while the cool, careless arrogance in those words kept shuddering through her brain, stealing her breath. He’dexpectedall that, then. He’d known exactly what he’d been walking her into. He’dknown.
She had to drag for air, gulp it down, press her clammy hands to her burning-hot cheeks. “Thenwhy,” she gritted out. “It was another test? You wanted to see how I would react?”
Joarr replied with a shrug this time, his eyes flicking to something beyond her head — but it wasn’t a yes, itwasn’t. And Gwyn kept staring at him, searching him, while that tightness seemed to yank even harder in her chest.
“Then you wanted to humiliate me,” she said, slow, empty. “You wanted to show a spoiled lord’s daughter just what you thought of her. Just where she belonged.”
Her voice cracked at the last bit, snapping Joarr’s gaze back toward her, his clawed hand rubbing at his mouth. “No,” he countered. “I no seek to shame you. No eventhinkof this.”
Gwyn stared at him for another long, painful breath, and then heard her own laugh, echoing far too loud against the stone. “Rubbish, asshole,” she barked back. “Youwantedme on my knees and begging for you. You wanted me completely in your thrall. And you worked damnhardfor that.Why.”
Joarr’s body was very still now, his eyes so deliberately blank — and the clench in Gwyn’s chest swerved, lurching for escape. “Tell me, Joarr,” she gasped. “Or else I will walk back into that room, and doeverythingI possibly can to destroy whatever the hell it was that I just gained for you! Whatever the hell youreallywanted out of this!”
A palpable flare of tension snapped across Joarr’s shoulders, and for an instant it was like his mask briefly slipped, his face contorting into something ugly and broken. “You ken Iwishfor this?” he demanded at her. “You ken I wish to follow this foolgoddess, who so oft is equal to whatever words spew from Silfast’s mouth? Bautul has long beenhisclan to rule, and heyearnsto see me fall, to see me crushed and spurned at his feet. Butyou—”
His voice broke off there, and he squeezed his eyes shut, his mouth clenching tight. Not finishing that statement, not even looking at her — but the comprehension was finally flickering through Gwyn’s thoughts, driving the breath from her chest.
“So this was all a play againstSilfast, then?” she said, her voice hollow. “Because he doesn’t want you in his clan? And you don’t want to be in his clan, either? At all?”
Joarr’s laugh scraped down her spine, jagged and hoarse. “Ach, no,” he snarled back at her. “I wish fornaughtof this. All I wish is to bend Silfast over this curst altar, and drive all the pious words from his lying mouth!”
Oh.Oh. And the full truth of that was there, finally, shouting in Joarr’s bitter, raging eyes. While Gwyn’s damned betraying brain suddenly swarmed with visions of it, with Joarr bending another orc over that altar, driving against another orc’s arse, his hand caught in thick black hair. And wait, he’d all but just admitted that, he wanted that, hedidthat?!
And yes, yes, Gwyn’s vision was now flooding with the vivid images from that room, with how Joarr had scarcely evenblinked. Becausethatwas what he did, when he wasn’t spying on lords’ daughters, and manipulating them, and seducing them in trees?
