He had discovered from the servants that—mystifyingly—Celedin had never moved into these quarters. Celedin had said he wished to honor his father, but that did not ring true to Dathor, who knew that Celedin had resented the old man. Perhaps Celedin had craved his favor, also.
Dathor had craved it, once.
But the old steward had bestowed favor rarely. He had been a hard sort of man, cold, quick to violence. He was like the countryside itself here up on the cliffs, frigid in winter, overtaken often by sudden storms.
Perhaps they all were.
It was better than Dathor expected, however, being in the rooms. They were vast. He had two antechambers, a sitting room and a room just for dressing, all of his uncle’s clothes still hanging in neat rows in the closets there. There was a tub built into that room too, deep and large enough that even an orc might soak in it, he thought.
Dathor had never had a bath all to himself.
Sometimes the servants would bring water for a collective tub and they would all take quick turns in it, but there was no soaking, just getting in, dunking, scrubbing, and gettingout. The water was always tepid and getting out was always a shivery experience, and he had never much enjoyed it.
He wondered what it would be to slip into warm water like that, to simply lie in it, to have a vast army of servants bring up water just so that he could feel the pleasure of soaking in it?
Well, there weren’t a vast army of servants, and he did not know if this was a luxury he could indulge in or not. Perhaps he could carry the water himself.
The bedchamber was dominated by the large bed, which had a canopy over it, curtains tied away. The bed itself was quite high up off the floor. There was a step stool to climb into it, but he could have managed without it. So could his uncle. The elves were tall, as tall as the orcs, but they were slender and pale and graceful where the orcs were burly and large.
Not for the first time, he studied his fingers. They were long and graceful but thick. His palm was wide, his fist large.
Aerhril wasn’t there.
So help him, if he had to go and seek that girl…
He would, of course. He would pick her up, throw her over his shoulder, and haul her back here—
Oh, no, he could not do that, not after his pretty speeches about how the elf women had a choice to be with the orcs or not. This had been agreed-upon, though, by all of the leaders.
There had been discussion when planning the attacks about the decision to rape the women publicly. Not because the orcs thought this was too brutal, but because they didn’t want anyone to think that they wanted elf women.
It was true that they were always accused of it.
More orc men had been imprisoned or beaten or even strung up on the accusation of raping some slip of an elf girl. Sometimes the case was that the elf girl had been willing, had even initiated. Sometimes it was all just falsehoods, the orc had never touched her. Dathor supposed some of them must have been actual rapes, that sometimes orcs rapedelves, but he did know that it was a great deal more rare than the elf men seemed to think it was.
So, the argument had raged.
We are playing into their prejudices about us. We are framing ourselves as beasts. We must be better than they think we are.
But the argument that won out was:This is what they fear most from us. This will shake them. This is how we make it hurt.
At any rate, the compromise was that there was one theatrical rape done in the very beginning to break their spirits, and afterwards, there would be no more of it. After that one, the pointed strategic rape, their behavior towards the women would be sterling.
The men in the army grumbled about it. All right for the commanders, who got to do the fucking, but they were soon silenced by being reminded that fucking would be for an audience, that it would likely not be pleasurable only nerve-wracking.
Which it had been.
And now, where was she?
He could not force her to come, but if she did not come, he would have to put her in the room with the women, the small and cramped room where they were all crowded together, sleeping on the floor.
He did not want to do that to her, not after all the things he’d already done to her today.
He decided he would summon her again, and then, if he heard nothing, he would let it lie for that night, but that tomorrow, she must join him here or be ousted from her bedchamber.
But as he went to ring for a servant, there was a knock at the door.
“Yes?” he called.
