A sudden, shivery warmth was swooping in Gwyn’s belly — the Bautul would really help defend herhouse? — and Silfast nodded sharply at her, as though the matter were already settled. “I am sure you shall wish to spend many of your days with our Seer, either at our mountain, or whilst he scouts,” he continued flatly. “Thus, when you are elsewhere, you shall allow other Bautul to come here, and tend your garden, and worship at this altar. If you yet wish to serve the women of this town, we shall also help arrange this.”
Gwyn’s mouth had fallen open, her eyes unblinking on Silfast’s face — he truly meant all this? But yes, yes, surely he did, his jaw set like that, his eyes imperious and commanding on hers, clearly expecting her immediate compliance.
The warmth flared even higher in Gwyn’s belly, escaping in a bright, delighted peal of laughter. The Bautul would guard her house, and tend her garden, and help her keep supporting Varrahan’s women? And even if that surely meant orcs would be regularly copulating on her kitchen table, she was frantically, fervently nodding, and wiping away the wetness brimming in her eyes.
“That’s — very generous of you, Silfast,” she said, with another bright choke of laughter. “Of course I would be honoured.Thankyou.”
Silfast nodded too, his expression smugly satisfied. “You are Bautul,” he said. “We fight for our own.”
Well. Gwyn couldn’t seem to stop smiling, or wiping at her eyes, or glancing around at her cozy little house. It would still be hers, after all. She could still be Varrahan’s midwife, and Orc Mountain’s, too. She could be Bautul. Fight for her own.
But that was bringing up something else, something important — and Gwyn felt her smile slightly fading as she glanced between Stella and Silfast, and drew in a deep breath. She would fight for her own. Her clan. Her friend.
“In that case,” she said, “if Stella’s not opposed, I would also like to work with her as her midwife, to help her through the rest of this pregnancy. Not as a replacement for Efterar and the Ka-esh, of course — butwiththem. And while I’ll do my best for your son, my focus will always be on Stella. Onherhealth, andherneeds.”
Silfast visibly flinched, his mouth grimacing, but his gaze had snapped to Stella’s uncertain eyes, and held there. “Ach, this should be… good, I ken,” he said, his voice stiff. “I was not… wise, in this. In my anger, I did not listen to my own mate. And I did not show her how I also care forhermore than all else, even more than a son. I have” — his hand stroked at the table, his head briefly bowing — “sworn to the goddess to right this.”
Oh. Gwyn felt herself flashing a relieved grin at Stella across the table, and Stella smiled back, slow and stunning. “Thank you, Gwyn,” she said earnestly. “I’d be so happy to have you as my midwife.”
The warmth was bubbling again in Gwyn’s belly, more wetness pooling in her eyes, and she gave Stella a twitchy little nod. “But I’ll warn you now, though,” she said, “as part of that, I think you two need to talk to someone. Someone you trust, who can be impartial, and help you work through some of this. You’ve both been through a lot, and there’s still a lot to come with pregnancy — not to mention a child. You both need to be prepared, and that means working together, and communicating honestly with each other. About your desires, your fears, your hopes for your future together. All right?”
Silfast was looking rather disconcerted by this, but thankfully didn’t argue — and Stella was already nodding, her eyes grateful on Gwyn’s. “Of course, Gwyn, if that’s what you recommend,” she replied. “Did you have anyone in mind?”
Gwyn mulled that over for a minute, her own hand now reflexively rubbing at the table. “Maybe someone like Ivar?” she said slowly. “He’s very fair-minded and generous, and has given me a lot of helpful guidance these past weeks. And” — she glanced at Silfast — “if you feel he often knows the goddess’ blessing, that would be helpful, too, wouldn’t it?”
A dangling silence seemed to echo after her words, in which Silfast frowned at the table, his claws absently drumming against it. “Ach, we shall think upon this,” he said finally. “But first” — his eyes narrowed back on Gwyn — “I feel I must seek the goddess’ blessing here with my mate, upon this altar.Now.”
His claw had jabbed down at the table, his brows high on his forehead. Challenging her, Gwyn realized, by brazenly announcing that he was going to get busy on her kitchen table, at this very moment, and what the hell was she going to do aboutthat?
And surely it was ridiculous, it was completely absurd — but Gwyn somehow… nodded. And then even felt her head bowing, one hand still clutching at the table, the other slipping into a fist against her heart.
“As you wish, Captain,” she said, her voice quiet, sure. “I pray that you’ll both find the goddess’ blessing here tonight.”
With that, she pushed her chair back, rising to her feet — and then found that Joarr had somehow already done the same. And his eyes on hers were warm, approving, as his arm slid around her waist, and drew her close.
“We shall sleep in the garden,” he said over his shoulder toward Stella and Silfast. “I shall watch for danger. Call if you need us, ach, Captain?”
And when Gwyn glanced back at Silfast, he was blinking toward them, his eyes unreadable — but then he slowly nodded, and brought his own fist to his heart. As if he’d acknowledged them. As if they’d begun to fix this.
And as if — Gwyn carefully touched the door as Joarr swung it open — the goddess was indeed here, among them.
As if she was truly home.
41
Gwyn walked around to the garden in silence. Caught, somehow, in the truth of Joarr’s hand on her back, the stars twinkling in the black sky above them. The peace, perhaps, of knowing she was here. Safe. Bautul. Joarr’s. A midwife, to both humans and orcs. Maybe even a lord’s daughter.
She just… was.
And it felt so easy to lean into Joarr’s warm strength, to allow him to guide her through the garden, and over to the wooden bench. The bench he’d sprawled on that morning so long ago, watching her, mocking her.
But he certainly wasn’t mocking her now. Not as he sank onto the bench, and then drew her down to straddle his hips. Not when he gently cupped her face in both hands, blinking at her with something much like adoration — and then pulled her into a slow, succulent kiss.
“Ach, my witch,” he breathed as he drew back again, his throat convulsing, his eyes glittering. “You are a fierce, wondrous prize. A gift.Joy.”
The heat again bubbled in Gwyn’s belly, and she shook her head, tried to wave it away — but both Joarr’s hands circled strong around her wrists, a soft growl hissing from his throat. “No,” he said. “You are. You honour me again and again. Grant me so many boons. BeyondallI saw of you, when first I hunted you.”
Gwyn swallowed, her head tilting — when first he’dhuntedher? — and she could feel him exhale, his grip loosening on her wrists. “Ach,” he said, with a wince. “This. This is the last truth I hide from you. This Iswearto you.”
