Page 54 of Wed to the Orc Captive

The older woman by the post, with her broad shoulders, asked my defender some question, and when he answered she turned away to spit.

Some of them pulled away a hair as he passed them. They didn't all trust this man, not entirely. A little while ago I might have conflated that with the distaste that had been shown towards my husband, but that had been open, and this was hidden. Like Vrathgar was a dog, and this man was a snake.

We were headed towards that empty walkway, that long, winding bridge up to Vrathgar’s shell of a house. Had I been threatened so many times these past weeks that I was losing all sanity, to almost walk alone like this with a man? Was I trying to die?

I stopped moving. He turned back to me, that sunny, artificial smile. “Are you alright?

I couldn't ask anyone for help. And what if I was loud, what if I yelled, and I was wrong and I’d make more trouble for his friends and men were so often less dangerous while you pretended you were safe and I⁠—

“Wait,” I said. “I forgot something.”

His eyebrows rose. I scanned the crowd, found a cloud of white hair, a single familiar face. “Grezha!” I shouted, waved. She turned back, confused.

I grabbed my jar. “The water is for Grezha. Thank-you-for-your-help-I'm-going.”

He gripped the jar a moment, unwilling, but there were eyes still around us, and he plastered on a concerned expression. He let go. “If you ever need someone to talk to, or you’re in need of help⁠—"

“Thank-you-so-much I'm fine.” I had the jar back, and I rushed across the square. “Grezha…” I didn’t have any more words, but some people understood more than they spoke, didn’t they? “I’m with you? To help?” I fumbled. “I need to walk with you. …Nayah?”

She laid a hand on my head, like she checked for fever, and I didn’t duck away. Her eyes found Sephar past me, and she wound her arm through mine, soft but clearly still strong. “Nayah,” she said, followed by a stream of words I couldn’t understand.

We walked.

People didn’t shrink from Grezha. When I was on her arm, they still stared, but they didn’t shrink from me.

And then the path was familiar, and we were walking up steep stone steps to a door.

Tyralk blinked from his mother’s doorway. “Grezha,” he greeted her, touched his forehead to hers, comical with how far he was bending down. She spoke another piece, and I looked to him. “She says you found her, and she’s brought you to someone who can help better than her.”

I caught her hand as she pulled away, warm in mine. “Thank you,” I said. Tyralk translated.

She smiled, touched my forehead. Tyralk translated. “She says you will be the strong shoulder one day. For now be the leaning sister without shame.”

I bowed, the only thing I could think of. She left.

Tyralk hid worry badly, despite all his nonchalance. “What happened?”

“Can you walk me back?” I said. “Please. I went out for water and…I got lost.” Close enough to the truth, and as much as I felt right revealing.

He nodded, and took the jar.

“Can we go the long way? Not past the sparring ring and the marketplace. Please.” I wasn’t ready to face Rissa, whoever she was, or her cohort, or any of the crowds right now.

He nodded again, didn’t question how I knew the way while claiming to be lost.

The path was long. By about halfway through, my heart was racing. I was weakened by the fever, damn it. The bandage on my upper arm would need changing, to make sure the ill humors didn’t fester. But Tyralk was patient, and we made it to the bottom of the walkway, past the stream, and then down the dead-end path to the house in the tree.

“Thank you,” I said.

Tyralk— he hadn’t talked all this time— shook his head. “You don’t need to say thank you so often,” he said. “We’re not counters of debts here.”

I didn’t know what there was to say to that.

His step lurched, and he grimaced.

“Are you hurt?”

“Just an old injury. It acts up sometimes.” The limp wasn't pronounced, but his face set, like he was handling pain.