Page 70 of Wed to the Orc Captive

The door fluttered. The young woman was gone.

Grezha mopped sweat off her face with the back of her hand. “Annar-zha, you do not have much longer, yes? With the speaking?”

I tried to feel for the power that had been jammed into my core, weigh it in some way. I winced. “Likely not.”

“Then you listen now and take these home to your love, yes?” She fetched down a jar of something green cut into spears, floating a warm brine that smelled of wild onion and the garlic I was crushing. “I have taken your help too long. You nourish your body.”

I bowed, touched my brow. I was getting used to bowing. “Thank you. I have enjoyed it.”

She clasped my hands. Her forehead brushed mine. And I thought to try to thank her better, for this, for all her help, but the magic ran out, and only Common came through.

Back in the house in the tree, the new water jar fit snugly on the hook from the rafters, the right size for my shoulder. The air was sweet with rosemary and basil starting to dry, savory from a broth simmering over the fire.

“I brought something, from Grezha.” I put down the jar by the hearth. There was still no table.

Vrathgar nodded. He was seated cross-legged by the fire, his hands busy braiding cord. A pile of straw sat beside him.

It had been a week since I woke up with my head in his lap. We had been cautious with each other since.

“She’s been letting me help her more.” I brought down the spoon to stir the broth. “I think some of the others are getting used to seeing me. Though I don’t know what to say to them.”

He kept his eyes on his task. “Are you happy here?”

What kind of question was that?

“I am…content.”

He nodded again. “There’s a conversation we need to have.” The fire crackled. When he spoke again, it was still without looking at me. “The Drashik leave the enclave twice a year. If they put off the trial till then…” He stopped. His fingers paused on the threads.

“That will be better?” I prompted.

He hesitated. Why did he hesitate? “It would be less likely to have heavy penalties for me. But there would be expectations.” His eyes stayed on the fire, on his work. “They will…expect us to affirm our commitments.”

“Like a ceremony?” I lowered myself to the ground to sit. That didn’t sound so very bad. “Like I marry you again?”

“Like bedding each other.”

My mind stumbled. “...oh.” I should have picked up the bowls, from the rafters. I should have found something to do with my hands, instead of sitting here like an idiot. “...oh.”

He tied off the cordage and set it aside. “There’s magic involved, and oaths. It’s not a good idea. To try to lie about it.”

“That would be problematic,” I said, and I hoped I sounded calm and not stupid. “Since you don’t intend to stay married to me.”

His face didn’t respond. “I could. If you wanted to stay.”

There was a moment of crystalizing focus, of surprise, of something very foolish deep inside of me.

And then he kept going.

“You don’t need to be chased out of here. I brought you to this place. I can follow through to give you…” he shook his head. “...whatever legitimacy my troth entails, while you need it. And it would only have to be the once, coming together. Not every marriage has people that want to be physically involved.” He picked up a handful of straw, started binding it in his hand. “It’s not a problem to share this house, especially with how much I’ll be gone, with the mercenary work. If you didn’t mind the gossip, once you were entrenched in the community, I could find somewhere else to stay.”

Oh. So that was what he meant to offer me. I nodded along. He kept speaking. I wondered if he knew it felt like he stabbed under my ribs.

“If you want to stay here, instead of seeking out your mentor’s sister, I will seal that with you. To grant you the legal standing. It would only be the once. And we’ve already…” he went silent.

My throat was an entire knot. “How generous,” I got out.

“It’s practical,” he said. “But I don’t want to cause you further…” He still hadn’t looked at me.