Before her, Rathgarr’s hands hadn’t even twitched, and he plucked a bead out of her hand, and carefully slid it onto a folded strand of Kesst’s hair with his claw. “Ach, I thought you might wish for this,” he said, just as quiet. “And what shall you ask for?”
Geva hauled in a shaky breath, let it out. “I want you to stay here at Orc Mountain for at least a year,” she said. “I want you to keep teaching the orclings, every day. And, I want you to use some of your wealth to make sure they receive the best education you can possibly offer them. Whether that’s travelling, or materials, or hiring more support. Whatever you think is best. I trust your judgement.”
Rathgarr’s hands were still working on Kesst’s hair, now placing on bead after bead, though perhaps moving a little slower than before. “And where,” he said, very carefully, “shall you be?”
Geva swallowed hard, her eyes blinking, as she considered that crucial question. Where would she be.Here, part of her wanted to shout, deep and miserable inside.I want to stay here, with my lovely little school, with my students, with all my new friends. With… you.
But it was too late, this had already gone too far, well beyond repairing. Rathgarr would never, ever stop wondering about her motives, his mother, and all that he’d lost. He would never be able to trust her with a son.
“I… don’t know yet,” Geva finally said. “But I do know” — she squared her shoulders, took another breath — “I want to return to the Fitzwalds’ house.”
At that, Rathgarr’s hands slipped on his nearly finished braid, and when she risked a wet-eyed glance upwards, he was glowering thunderously toward her, his lips curled back to show his sharp teeth. “You shall never work in that grim, garish house again,” he hissed. “And I shallneverswear a vow that allows for this!”
Geva rapidly flapped her free hand, and then rubbed at her eyes, shaking her head. “Not — toworkthere,” she said thickly. “But as part of my payment, I want you to grant me everything you stole from the children, and the servants. I want to take it all back. And also, I want” — she exhaled, slow — “to leave letters for the children, and especially Cecily. I want to tell her I love her, and I miss her, and I regret not being able to say goodbye in person. I want her to know I didn’t abandon her without even a farewell.”
There was a moment’s silence from Rathgarr, his hands now fully stilled on Kesst’s hair. “Ach, I see,” he said, his voice very low. “And after this, where shall you go? Across the sea to Ezira, as you wished?”
But a distant part of Geva had somehow been thinking about this for days, perhaps even weeks, and she shook her head. “No, I don’t think so,” she said slowly. “I’ve been so focused on pushing forward, all this time. Looking ahead, rather than back. And going across the sea just seemed like the next obvious step, but after all this” — she could hear herself swallow — “I’m not sure I actuallywantto go there anymore.”
Rathgarr didn’t reply to that, his hands still unmoving on Kesst’s hair, and Geva drew in another breath. “So along with the Fitzwalds’ plunder, I’d like to ask you for enough coin to live on, for a year,” she said. “What you originally planned to pay me for that passage across the sea. And then I can — take some time. Think about it. Being here has reminded me how much I love children and teaching, so maybe I can look for another teaching job, or maybe even a way to start a school of my own. But without the added pressure of possibly starving on the streets.”
She’d attempted to make it sound light, but when she risked a glance up at Rathgarr, he was frowning again, his eyes flickering oddly on hers. “You cannot only want this, woman,” he said flatly. “You are due far more than this.”
But Geva cast an uncertain glance over toward the piles of plunder, and felt something circling, settling, deep in her chest. “I… appreciate your generosity,” she said, quiet. “But I… don’t actually want it, Rathgarr. It’s not my hoard. And I’ve only worked for you for a few weeks. A year’s salary seems more than fair.”
But suddenly Rathgarr was baring his teeth again, his eyes flashing, as a low, dangerous growl burned from his throat. “Ach, I see your tricks, woman,” he hissed at her. “You wish to guilt me into paying you more. You wish for me to lie here fretting about you, lost and starving alone. You wish me to follow you weeping, and beg for you to come back, so you can gain our hoard as your own!”
What? Geva flinched and startled, opening her mouth to attempt some kind of protest, but Rathgarr cut her off with a hard snap of his teeth, and another deep, bitter growl. “Or you shall plan to dawdle and linger,” he snarled, “wandering about the mountain, saying tearful farewells to all you have met, until they all descend upon me, begging me to keep my sweet mate, if only for the orclings’ sake! And then you shall play your part so flawlessly, that I shall grant you my son, only so that you might steal him from me, with all my gold!”
Geva stared at him for a stunned, endless moment, as those words rang through the air. He truly still thought she wanted to trick him? To manipulate him? To lie to him, so she could steal his son, and his gold?
The disbelief was kicking and surging, tangling with something much like rage, and Geva felt her head whipping back and forth, her hands clutched to fists. “I don’t deserve this rubbish from you, Rathgarr,” she hissed at him. “Idon’t. I’ve helped you. I’ve supported you. I’ve kept all your secrets. I’ve worked so, so hard for you. Just the way you wanted. Just the way youaskedme to!”
But he didn’t even reply, his teeth still bared viciously toward her, and Geva dragged back another deep, staggering breath. “I have proven to you again andagainthat you can trust me,” she continued, her voice cracking. “And meanwhile, here you were, hiding something likethisfrom me, all this time? Because you really think I want tostealit from you?!”
She’d waved her shaky hand around at the hoard, at all the riches he’d known about, and lied about — but it was as though he hadn’t even heard her. His mouth still contorting, his head shaking, his eyes flaring with strange, fervid fury. With… mistrust.
And blinking up toward him, Geva suddenly felt her own anger sagging, the misery plunging dark and deep. Into the horrible, harrowing vision of just what this hoard would keep doing to him. How it would keep clawing at his pain and his paranoia and his greed. How he would perhaps never be able to love or trust anyone again, not with all this gold silently screaming at him, reminding him of his miserable parents, and of all he’d lost.
“You’re wrong, Rathgarr,” she said, through the pain clamping in her throat. “You’re so, so wrong. I have no desire to hurt you, or be part of this. I gave you my terms, so if you’ll accept them, I’ll now be on my way.”
But in return, Rathgarr finally — laughed. The sound hard and brittle and painful, grating through the room, scraping up Geva’s shivering spine.
“Ach, I accept your terms,poppet,” he sneered at her. “So now, what shall you do?”
And gods, he really did still think it was a lie. He really believed she cared about the gold. He really believed she would betray him, just like his mother.
“Well, I’ll say goodbye then, I suppose,” she managed, lifting her chin, and then glancing down to Kesst’s distant, shifting eyes. “Kesst, it’s been such an honour meeting you, and I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you the truth from the start. And if you’ll take these” — she carefully poured her beads into his slack hand — “I hope you’ll keeping having Rathgarr braid your hair, because he’s very good at it, and the beads do look lovely on you.”
Kesst was still blinking blankly at her, as though he couldn’t quite hear her, and Geva bit back the sudden sob lurking in her throat, and wiped at her eyes. “Maybe we can — write,” she whispered. “I’ll send you some animal tales, how about that?”
But Kesst only kept staring at her, the sight so painfully unnatural, and Geva was deeply, profoundly relieved by the sudden sound of more people, spilling into the room. And thank the gods, the first one was Efterar, sprinting over toward them at full speed, reeling to a stop on his knees before Kesst, his steady hands already cupping Kesst’s face with gentle, familiar care.
“There, there, Sweet-Fang,” he murmured, though his voice sounded hoarse. “I’m here. You’re safe.”
And bless Efterar, because Kesst’s eyes had already begun refocusing, blinking down toward his face. “It’s a mess, Eft,” he said plaintively. “The most ghastlydisaster, and now Geva isleaving. Because — did I say this hoard is a mess?”
Efterar shot a brief, resentful glance around at the glittering room, as though it deeply offended him — but then he blinked, and frowned up at Geva beside him. “You’re leaving?” he asked. “Permanently?”
