“Wow. I guess that makes sense, though. You were a prince, right? Destined to be king of Uzrirgard?” I look over at him, then up at the stars, able to faintly make out the image he described.
“Since the day I was born,” his gravelly voice rolls over the rooftop. “The old soothsayers said my bloodline was blessed bythe Twelve Gods. The blessing extended our lifespans, allowing us to rule for generations. I’m not sure that’s true.”
“Why not? If you live so much longer than other orcs, there has to be a reason,” I say, sipping my blended drink.
“Could be evolution,” he rumbles. “A lot of our scientists believe that was how we became what we are. My bloodline could just be an anomaly, rather than divine.”
“I’ve read about evolution,” I say. “Humans seem to favor that more than religion now, too.”
“There’s enough evidence in the fossils to confirm it happened. No real evidence there were ever any gods.”
“Isn’t that what faith is supposed to be for?” I ask. “Believing in the things you can’t see or prove?”
“That’s what the books say,” he says, looking over at me and reaching for his pipe. “But is that true, or just a different kind of propaganda?”
King Lix’tuk lets the question linger while he lights his pipe and takes a few more hits of moiraroot. He offers it to me, but I decline. I’m not sure it gives me the kind of mental clarity it gives him, and it’s harsh. My lungs are still burning a little.
After he settles back into his chair, he points out some more constellations. Tells me the prophecies intertwined with a few of them. I have to admit that some of them are outlandish. They sound more like entertainment than divination. Maybe that’s just how orcs learned to entertain themselves before they had books.
The air starts to get cooler once we’ve been on the roof for a few hours. I pull the furs tight around me, but the wind stillmakes my teeth chatter. King Lix’tuk seems unaffected. The fur is barely draped across his armor.
“Are you cold, little human girl?” he asks.
“Yes, I’m sorry,” I admit, feeling weak considering how unbothered he is by the chill. “Maybe I should go back downstairs.”
“I’ll come with you. It’s getting late,” he huffs, pushing the fur away. “A hot shower will help with the chill.”
“Are you going to take one? I can wait if you are,” I say apprehensively.
“No, I’m fine. Besides there’s more than one bathroom in Zrogmul,” he rumbles, rising from his seat.
I’m so cold I keep a large fur wrapped around me while I help him pack the rest into the bag. He finishes what is left of his grog, so I gather our empty bottles. His pipe goes back into the wooden box, and that goes into the bag with everything else. Once he slings the bag over his shoulder, he walks toward the door that takes us downstairs. I follow him, anxious to feel some warmth.
A hot shower, followed by another night at the foot of his bed. At least he doesn’t seem to be as annoyed with me as he was earlier.
I step into the bathroom, remove my dress, and start the shower. I turn the heat up hotter than usual before stepping inside. It definitely helps with the chill. After a few minutes, I feel the heat in my bones, and the warmth is incredible.
After my shower, I go into the room next to the bathroom and look at the nightgowns. I wore a pink one last night that showedwaymore than I’m comfortable with. I thought he might like it,but I was wrong. He just sent me to the foot of his bed. I wasn’t enticing enough for him to continue touching himself, even after he turned out the lights.
I find a nightgown that is a lot more modest. It’s black, less sheer, and almost long enough to reach my knees. It should be more comfortable to sleep in.
When I walk down the hallway, there’s a light under his door again. He’s still up. I wait outside a few seconds, hoping I’m not going to interrupt him again. But I can’t stand in the hallway all night, so eventually I walk close enough for the door to slide open.
King Lix’tuk is already in bed. He pulls the covers across his body as the door opens, but the bulge in the fur tells me he was doing the same thing he was doing last night, and I interrupted him. Again. No wonder he gets so annoyed with me.
“I’m sorry,” I say apprehensively.
“Nothing to apologize for,” he growls. “Turn out the lights.”
“Okay,” I sigh, flipping the switch that plunges the room into darkness. I wait for a few seconds, then walk closer to his bed. “I could help you with that, if you want.”
“I don’t need your help,” he growls.
“I know but…” My hand hovers in the darkness for a moment, then I gently lower it until I feel the fur covering his legs. “This is the second night I’ve walked in while you were trying to do that.”
“It’s just a release. Nothing more than that,” he snarls, but he doesn’t push my hand away, even when I move it higher, feeling his hard muscles beneath the fur. “Stop, Clover. You don’t need to touch me.”
“If you really want me to stop, I will,” I sigh, my hand right next to his bulge. “But it’s dark. You don’t even have to look at me.”
