Page 64 of Wed to the Orc Captive

He nodded, again. “Thank you. I…thank you.” He was staring at her face, so young-looking on the pillow, despite the shock of silver in her hair. When he spoke it was a croak. “If you would stay here, please, a moment. I need to talk to my aunt. She shouldn't be alone when she wakes up, and I…I shouldn't be here.”

When he returned we left the little house covered in flowers, him carefully closing the door behind him. On the path again, out of the garden, he spoke. “It's better for her not to see me,” he said. “My aunt visits. She's not alone. She's not always like that.”

“I believe you,” I whispered. Because what was there to say?

“She won’t switch that way on you as often,” he said. “You don’t look like…” and then he stopped speaking, only our footsteps crunching.

His looks came from his father.

“She seemed kind,” I murmured.

“She is,” he answered, at once. “She never wants to hurt anyone. She just…doesn’t do well with reminders. Or threats. Or accidents. And I’m…” he let out a breath. “I’m all of those.”

What a wretched way to know who you were, with the person who loved you most.

I should say something, interrupt his silence. “That’s why you don’t live there, then?” I fumbled.

He nodded curtly. “It got worse when I grew taller. I got taller than her when I was…ten summers? I found other places to be.”

Our footsteps reached the same path as before, sloping upwards towards that ring, voices near enough to hear. The way towards the wooden bridgeway would be there beyond. People crossed our line of sight, a happy older woman, a man with a basket on his arm.

He lurched to a halt. “I can’t…” he said, and just stopped. I waited. Children crossed the path, chasing and shrieking. “...I don’t want to go back,” he said. “To that house.”

I blinked. “Your mother’s?”

“No, the…mine.” He took a breath. “I will take you back there, if you wish. But I don’t want to be there.”

“I don’t mind,” I said. “Not going back.” It was an empty room. It held no significance for me. I had no idea what significance it held for him. “Is there somewhere else? Somewhere we could go?”

He stood there, staring forward. I put my hand on his.

“Vrathgar!” A woman down in the square waved. He muttered a curse. She crossed the packed earth towards us. She wasn’t alone. There was the young woman from the ring with the scar on her throat, and there was the one who’d challenged Vrathgar in the trial, hanging back and glaring. There were others, all of them dressed in the orc fashion, with skirts above the knee or trousers, hair braided back or chopped short, arms bared.

I’d never had to wonder if I could take another woman in a fight before, but now I knew I couldn’t take any of them. Even the smallest could kill me if she tried.

The woman in the lead— I hadn't seen her before, her hair in thick waves chopped off below her ear— she had bangles on her lithe arms, and her necklace clacked with teeth. She said something, cheery, despite the glares and discomfort behind her.

“We’re fine,” Vrathgar answered stiffly, staying in Common, and she laughed. Perhaps I should have focused on how she acted like she didn’t see me while I was glaringly out of place, or how smug she looked talking with him, or the very many long, curving fangs that adorned the necklace around her throat. But as Orcish bubbled out of her I noticed how very free she seemed, how confident in her bared shoulders and the wide stance of her hips, the cheery roses in the olive of her cheeks. This was a person who didn't need to cower or shrink. This was someone who’d never had to beg anyone to love them.

“My wife doesn't speak Orcish yet.” He said it without banter, flat. Perhaps I was delusional to imagine he'd emphasized the word “wife.”

She mock-scowled at him. “Cruel! The man knows a woman's Common is egg-shit.” One of the others muttered something, and she swatted at them. “Bad! It is bad.” She didn't seem bothered that he wasn't laughing. Her eyes finally found me, that smile unmoving. “This is wife.”

“Yes.”

Her eyes slid to my hand in his. “Surprise.”

“Mmhm.”

She went back to Orcish, and I scanned the other faces in this circle, the one from the trial, still glaring, the ones looking at me with expressions ranging from worry to distaste to hate. She was the only one smiling. The more petite, compact one grabbed her arm. “Come on, Rissa, let’s just go…”

This was Rissa. This effortless, capable person at the center of the maelstrom, smiling while they all scowled, acting like everything was fine. A bitter pit tightened in my stomach.

I hadn’t wanted it to be her.

She said something scolding, touched his arm lightly, and the movement was slight but he pulled back.

“I need to go,” he said. His hand tightened on mine.