“I was right, wasn’t I?” she heard herself whisper. “There is no other viable plan with the men. No other way to stop my father’s new law, or keep all those terrified women safe. No other way” — she had to force out the words — “to fulfill that pledge you made to the Bautul. To regain your place as Seer among them.”
Her bleary eyes had dropped to that tooth around his neck, that damned symbol of her doom. Just hanging there so innocuously, so constantly, between them. Sharp, silent, deadly, waiting to bite her, break her apart…
“I no care for this pledge, or this place amongst the Bautul,” Joarr said finally, hoarse, fierce. “I should forsake all this in a breath, if this should keep you with me. And wehavesought new plan. Fought for new way. But…”
But. Gwyn’s heavy eyes lifted up again, finding his angry, bitter gaze. And then following it as it flicked, grim and purposeful, toward the yawning corridor ahead. Toward — the men. TowardStella.
And what had he said, that day in the garden, what felt like an age ago?You ken Stella is only one?he’d snarled at her.Only woman who shall meet death at the hands of this?
And yes, this was precisely what he was talking about. What he was doing here. WhatGwynwas doing here. Saving these women’s very lives, in the face of her father’s cruel short-sightedness. In defiance of all the power of the realm.
A lord’s dotty, unfashionable, plant-obsessed daughter… pregnant with an orc’s son. And ready, in her stupidity, to fight for that, with everything she had. Even if it meant testifying. Even if it meant public humiliation. Even if it meant losing everything she’d fought for. Everything she’d ever longed for.
“You must no ken,” Joarr said, his voice halting, “I no care for you. Ach? Ineverknow care like this. Never know hunger or peace like this. You are” — his hands skittered on her face, tilted it back toward him — “true goddess. Kind. Kindred.Magic. Worthy of deep fealty. Ofworship.”
The truth was far too close, too vivid, flashing in his too-bright eyes — but it only made it worse, wrenching the agony hard and tight and cold. Hehadcared for her, and he’d still done this. Still trapped her to save those women, and his people. And Gwyn saw it, knew it,understoodit — and gods, maybe she would have even done it, had she been in his place.
But it still destroyed everything. It still meant Joarr had lied, again and again. It still meant she’d been second best, not good enough, not worthy enough. She hadn’t fought hard enough, done enough. She hadn’t been able to prove it, to change it, to defy the whims of that damned goddess. She’d been a pawn all along, and she’dknownit.
Stupid. So, so damnedstupid.
“No,” she whispered, dropping her eyes, her voice wretchedly wavering. “No. You don’t get to give me your empty praise or your platitudes anymore, Joarr. You’re getting what you want from me, and then” — she gulped down breath — “you’re getting the hell away from me.Forever.”
Joarr’s hands twitched on her face, his eyes squeezing shut, his mouth opening to speak, to try again — but this time Gwyn ripped herself away from him, wildly shaking her head. No. No.No.
“No,” she gasped at him. “No. I helped you. I trusted you. I gave you so, so many chances. I listened to you again and again, I put my whole future in your hands. All my hope. And this is how you repay me?This?!”
Her voice was ringing through the corridor now, and she didn’t care if Silfast or Kalfr heard, if the entire blasted mountain heard. “You don’t come to me again,” she hissed. “You don’t touch me again. You don’t evenspeakto me again. I am finally done with being your plaything, your target, your fool! And as stupid as I am, I am never,everfalling for your rubbish,everagain!”
And as the words rang out around them, Joarr actuallyflinched. His entire body recoiling away from her, as though she’d slammed him in the face, or kicked him in the groin. And even as he shook his head back and forth, as if to thrust it away, he was opening his damned lying mouth, about to speak again, to try again, he was, hewas—
But before Gwyn could hear it, could break apart beneath it, she shoved away with all her might, and ran into the darkness.
31
Gwyn ran and ran through the dark corridor, her feet sliding, her breaths straining, her thoughts screaming through her skull.
Stupid, they shouted, with every slap of her boots against the stone.Stupid, stupid, stupid.
And even stupider — she reeled to a halt, glared in tearful disbelief at the sheer, rocky wall blocking the path before her — was the reality that Joarr was stillhere. Jogging close and silent behind her the entire damned time, as if he hadn’t heard a single damned word she’d just said.
And she wasn’t giving him the satisfaction of acknowledging his existence, she wasn’t — even as he strode past her to the wall in front of her, and then slowly, deliberately, began to climb it.
He was taking his time on purpose, Gwyn’s raging thoughts noted, showing her where to hold on, where to put her feet, like he’d done so many times before. And once he’d reached the top, he shifted something above — and suddenly light streamed down, blinding her blinking, leaking eyes.
Joarr leapt up into the light with one final quick, fluid movement, and then spun back around, and reached a hand down toward her. His fingers making a familiar come-here motion, and Gwyn fervently fought to ignore that awareness as she slung her lamp over her wrist, and followed him.
However, of course it wasn’t nearly as easy as he’d made it look, and once she was halfway, his strong hands grasped both her arms, and hauled her up. Up and out into cool fresh air, into a circle of surrounding trees, into the rich dappled light of the low, setting sun.
He helped her to her feet, and then plucked the lamp from her wrist, snuffed it out, and then placed it back down into the hole behind them. All of this without speaking a word — like she’d asked, Gwyn’s miserable thoughts pointed out — even as she could feel the heavy weight of his eyes on her, raising gooseflesh over her skin.
But she only waited, her gaze downcast, until he finally turned, and started walking again. Striding along a narrow path through the trees, heading due north. Toward Varrahan. Toward her house. Toward Roy, and toward Stella.
Gwyn silently followed, keeping her eyes on the earth, fighting to ignore that telltale, too-frequent prickle of Joarr’s gaze upon her. Focusing only on her steps, her purpose, the flat, deadened resignation hollowing out her chest. She would save those women. Save Stella. This was all the orcs had wanted from her, all she was good for, and she would do it. She would.
And the fact that Joarr was still walking, still taking her there — that had to mean something, at least. Had to mean she could do at least this. That even if her own future was destroyed, there was still hope for all the other women affected by this. For women like Inga and Dania and Hannah, and Jule and Ella and Rosa and Maria. For Stella.
Gwyn kept silently repeating that with every dogged step, louder and louder, as if to drown out her ever-wailing heartbeat. So loud that she didn’t even notice when Joarr abruptly halted in front of her — not until she strode straight into his back. Into that lean, shifting strength, its sweaty sweet scent swarming her lungs, his hands snapping out to catch her waist —
