And then, finally, his eyes rose back to her face. Passing briefly over her brown skin and eyes, before lingering, narrowing, on her hair. As if even her hairstyle — a severe bun at the nape of her neck, confining all her thick curls tightly in place — was ripe for his judgement, too.
“Ach, no such joys today, I fear,” the orc purred, as he came another step closer, and flashed Geva another wicked, wolfish smile. “As much good as I ken this should do you, angel. No, today…”
Geva could only seem to stare at the bastard, her breath still frozen in her chest, waiting, waiting — until the orc’s clawed hand dropped back to his sword-hilt, and slowly, almost reluctantly, drew its impossible shining length from his belt. The movement deft and familiar and deeply calculated, oh gods what was this, what was he doing, what washappening—
“Today, sweetling,” he continued, his voice still light and cool, as he easily flipped the giant sword in his huge hand. Watching her watch this, wanting her to see it, tofearit, and…
And without warning, the sword flashed up to Geva’sneck. Its polished steel blade gently nudging against her skin, cold and sharp and deadly. Smashing raw sheer terror through her pounding skull, oh gods, oh gods, no, she couldn’t die like this, please, not today…
“Today,” the orc repeated, with a regretful little smile, “you shall show me each last coin and jewel in this grim, garish house. And if you are very,verygood, my pretty poppet” — that cold steel bit closer, harder, pain stinging and screaming through her skin — “mayhapyou shall live to see the morn.”
3
Geva gaped at the giant, menacing brute before her, while distant, horrible comprehension cracked through her strange, stilted thoughts.
The orc was… athief. He’d come here to steal from the Fitzwalds, just like Mrs. Fitzwald had feared.
And if Geva didn’t cooperate, he would… he wouldkillher.
And hewould, she realized, as she stared at his cool, glinting eyes. As she felt him tilting his deadly blade against her neck, making sure she could feel its sharpened, unyielding edge. He was threatening her, taunting her, and…enjoyingit.
“But,” Geva gulped, the movement flexing her throat against that cold sharpened steel. “The — the other servants. They’ll —”
The orc shot her that wicked smile again, a little colder this time. “The other humans are yet out of the house, and shall know naught of this,” he replied softly. “Lest you scream, but then Ishallkill you, my pretty poppet.”
Geva’s throat again convulsed against the cold steel, her body still otherwise frozen in place. Other than the trembling, why couldn’t she stop trembling, why couldn’t shethink…
“But,” she tried again, “you’re — the orcs — you’re bound by a peace-treaty. You’ve kept its terms foryears. You’re not supposed to — to steal, or raid, orkillpeople.”
It should have sounded confident, but it came out pleading, pathetic, her voice not even slightly her own. And that was surely anger in the orc’s eyes now, flashing just as bright and sharp as his blade, and gods he was going to kill her now, he was —
“Ihave signed no treaty,” he replied, his deep voice far more clipped than before. “I do as I wish. And today, I wish to raid this house. And ifyouwish todietoday, you shall keep babbling of servants and treaties, instead of showing me the plunder that ismine!”
His sword pressed even harder against Geva’s throat as he spoke, and she gasped as she felt the sharp sting of her skin breaking, smarting with sudden heat and pain. He’d cut her, he’d actuallycutherneck, oh gods, this could not be happening —
But it was, and the orc’s eyes had dropped toward her stinging neck, lingering with something like satisfaction as his blade finally, finally eased away. And now — ohhell— that was a long, slithering blacktongue, curling from his mouth, slipping against his parted lips.
As if… as if this bastard truly would kill her, andenjoyit. As if he were every terrifying tale about the brutal, ravenous orcs, brought to horrifying life here before her. And amidst the screaming still resounding silently through Geva’s thudding skull, there was also exhaustion, and bitterness, and a heavy, hollow defeat.
Of course. Of course this would happen, after such a miserable day, a miserable week, a miserable four years. Of course it would happen just before her month of long-awaited peace. And of course she would be targeted by the one damned renegade orc who didn’t care about his treaty, who only cared about her employers’ damned coin, and their horrid hideous jewels. Ofcourse.
“Ach?” the orc hissed now, his voice pure deadly malice. “What fate shall you choose, my sweet?”
Geva desperately gulped down air, and somehow, somehow, she squared her shoulders, raised her chin. She’d survived this far. She could survive this. Keep moving forward, one step at a time. She had to. Shehadto.
“I — I’ll help you, orc,” she said, as evenly as she could. “I’ll do my best. You’ll see.”
4
Geva’s words were followed by a strange, strained silence. By the heavy, prickling truth of the orc’s eyes studying her, and then — she couldn’t hide her flinch — the distinctiveshirrof metal, as he slid his massive blade back into his belt.
“Ach, then,” he said, with a rather false-sounding lightness. “I am glad we understand one another, my sweet.”
Geva twitched another silent nod, a movement that flashed more stinging pain through the fresh cut on her neck. And though she could feel a hot trickle of blood slipping downwards, sliding toward her bodice, she couldn’t even seem to lift her shaking hand to wipe it away.
But wait, now the orc was reaching out totouchher, his warm finger brushing against that trickle of blood — and as Geva watched, wide-eyed, he brought his red-stained finger to hismouth. Slipping it deep inside, while his throat visibly bobbed, and his long lashes fluttered.
As if… as if helikedthe taste of her pain. As if he was again enjoying this, enjoying her shock and her terror. Andwhywas Geva watching him like this, why had her own mouth gone bone-dry, her heart skipping a beat in her chest…
