He’d been speaking so quickly that Geva almost couldn’t follow, but Rathgarr and the other orc clearly had, and they groaned in unison, shaking their heads. “Gammon,kærasti,” said the big orc, his deep voice slow and measured. “You bring great honour to your clan. You have well earned your rank as one of our mountain’s most able warriors. As a truly namedlieutenant.”
The smaller orc briefly ducked his head, wildly waving away the reassurance with both hands, but Rathgarr gave his shoulders another purposeful little shake, his brows raised high. “What is this, Abjorn?” he demanded. “Alieutenant?”
Abjorn was grinning up at Rathgarr again, and then making a face at him, and bobbing a little on his feet. “Ach, this is mostly for show, I ken,” he said quickly. “You ken how it is, with you Ash-Kai. Good to have a weak Ka-esh as a —”
But before he could finish, Rathgarr had yanked him into another powerful-looking embrace, swaying him back and forth. “You well deserve this,” he said fervently, into the orc’s neck. “It brings me such joy to hear this, brother.”
The orc — Abjorn — sagged into Rathgarr’s chest, his eyes fluttering closed, his mouth still curved in a stunning little smile. And as Geva watched, she felt herself swallowing hard, while something strange and bitter surged in her chest. Something that felt suddenly, alarmingly close to… jealousy.
She hurriedly wrenched her gaze away, and found herself looking straight toward the bigger orc. Who was giving a slow, wry little shrug, with an expression rather like indulgence on his broad features. As if this… thisintimacybetween Rathgarr and this effusive, handsome orc was both expected, andfamiliar.
Geva’s stomach horribly plunged — gods, she didnotcare, Rathgarr was her employer, one month — and she belatedly plastered on a smile, and thrust out her hand toward the big orc. “Hi, I’m Geva,” she said, over the lump in her throat. “And you must be a friend of Rathgarr’s.”
The big orc angled a meaningful glance toward Rathgarr, who was now hurriedly extracting himself from Abjorn, and giving a quick, narrow-eyed nod. To which the big orc nodded too, and then carefully reached to shake Geva’s proffered hand, his huge grip warm and gentle.
“Ach, I am Sigarr, also of Clan Ash-Kai,” he told her, in his slow, measured voice. “Welcome to our clan, woman. I am sure our brother shall keep you safe and hale and content.”
Now it was Geva’s face flushing, but her smile felt somewhat more genuine this time. “Er, thank you,” she told him, but before she could say anything more, Abjorn had shoved himself in close beside Sigarr, his own hand outstretched toward her.
“Please forgive our rudeness, woman,” he said, fixing her with the full force of his unfairly stunning smile. “We are so honoured to meet you. Any woman of Rath’s is most welcome among us. I hope he has been good to you, and spared you the worst of his overbearing bluster? Or his ill temper? Or his obstinacy?”
Geva desperately fought down another rising surge of jealousy — they called himRath? And byany woman, did he mean Rathgarr had brought other women here before, too? But she kept the smile pasted to her mouth, and rapidly shook Abjorn’s hand. “I see you know my mate very well,” she said, with a valiant attempt at a teasing glance toward Rathgarr’s watching, unreadable face. “But yes, he’s been very good to me. I’m a very lucky woman.”
Abjorn seemed outwardly convinced, at least, glancing back and forth between her and Rathgarr with every impression of delight. “Ach, we well know Rath is the lucky one,” he replied, as he winked toward Geva. “And mayhap soon we shall meet a strong Ash-Kai son?”
A strong Ash-Kai son. Geva felt herself twitching, her mind gone curiously blank — good gods, what had they agreed to say about this? — but luckily, Rathgarr had stepped a little closer, his big hand spreading against her back. “Ach, mayhap,” he said lightly. “But my sweet mate’s mother faced many trials upon her birthing, so we wished to give this some time.”
Right. That. Geva’s smile toward Rathgarr surely betrayed too much of her relief, but thankfully Abjorn was still smiling too, his eyes shining with warmth. “Then you must meet our midwife, and my cleverer Ka-esh kin, who have studied this at length,” he said firmly. “And most of all, you must meet Efterar! He is a worker of miracles, ach? Together with our midwife, he has now helped birth dozens of orclings, and has not lost a single woman or orcling yet.”
Oh. They had a midwife here? And aphysician?! And though Geva was already nodding, her smile toward Rathgarr had gone rather fixed. And Rathgarr’s smile looked just the same, and Geva could almost see him searching for a way to deflect this, to offer some kind of appropriate response…
“Efterar,” he repeated. “Is this a new orc? I have not before heard of him.”
It seemed a perfectly innocuous question, but before them, Sigarr and Abjorn had gone suddenly, strangely still. Both of them staring at Rathgarr with genuine-looking shock, before glancing toward one another. And Sigarr’s previously genial face had hardened into something dark and grim, while Abjorn’s still-present smile rapidly shifted between apologetic, uneasy, and sad.
“Efterar is… your kin-brother, Rath,” Abjorn said. “He is Kesst’s bonded mate. For many summers now.”
Oh. Rathgarr’s brother Kesst had taken amate. Another orc. Which seemed like an important point, surely? And Rathgarr… hadn’t known?
But no, no, surely he hadn’t, because Geva could feel his body’s sudden stiffness against her, the way his breath had stilled in his chest. The way his hand on her back had begun… trembling.
But he didn’t speak — perhaps he couldn’t speak — and finally Geva cleared her throat, and squared her shoulders. “We would dearly love to see them,” she said. “I don’t suppose they might be nearby, by any chance?”
And thankfully Abjorn nodded, relief flaring bright in his eyes. “Ach, they are,” he said, with another stunning smile. “So come. We shall be glad to take you, and welcome you home.”
19
For the rest of the short walk to Orc Mountain, Geva could almost taste the strain in Rathgarr’s body, the taut agitation thrumming through his hand against her. The hand that hadn’t actually moved from her back, almost as if he needed some kind of stability, some means to keep him from falling.
But Geva didn’t feel even slightly stable either, not between these two disconcerting new orcs — Abjorn kept flashing them careful smiles from where he and Sigarr were walking ahead — and that revelation that Rathgarr’s brother had had a mate. Foryears. And Rathgarr hadn’t known about it.
And why hadn’t Rathgarr known about it? When he’d known about politics, about places to share news, aboutpamphlets? And most of all, when he’d spent all that time talking to Killik? They’d had multiple meetings, right? Hadn’t he bothered to ask how his ownbrotherwas faring?
And gods, maybe Rathgarr really was that selfish, or that guarded, or that uncaring. Gods, he’d barely spoken to Geva of Orc Mountain either, had he? And despite how they’d managed to get along these past days, he’d still done some truly horrible things, too. He’d stolen from the Fitzwalds, and from Cecily. He’d ruined Geva’s career. Destroyed her life.
And once again, she felt that too-familiar whisper of alarm, of fear. She was walking straight toward Orc Mountain, together with this devious, untrustworthy orc. She’d agreed to stay in Orc Mountain with him, pretending to love him, for an entire month. And — her breath choked as they rounded a corner — they’d arrived. Here.
At Orc Mountain.
