Page 79 of Wed to the Orc Captive

“Is it your arm?” his voice gritted.

“No. I can hold it. I'm just…afraid to lift my head.” Now I sounded ridiculously weak. “If I cry out it could wake Grezha, and⁠—"

His arm snaked under my neck, cradling me up. If I stayed limp… “I've got you,” he murmured. “Do you want to hold it or…”

I couldn't see the cup. I didn't want to slap around searching. “You holding it is fine.”

As the water poured past my lips I thought how odd it was that the sound of his heartbeat was comforting, the smell of his skin. “Do you need more?” His breath ruffled my hair.

“I’m alright.”

He hesitated a moment, and lowered me back. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t.”

The memory is odd there, because everything after seemed like a nightmare. The night was unending. I dreaded the bodily needs that would require me to get someone to help me up. I dreaded the agony of rising and the equal horror of getting down again, the pounding and cutting and grinding pains that made up a body I no longer felt I knew. Everything was horrible, and I was afraid. But what I remember being so clear in that instant was the scent of him, the warmth of him in the dark, my mind clinging to his voice when he said, “I’ll be right here. Nothing is going to happen to you. I’ll be right here.”

I wanted him. I wanted him like a child clinging in the dark, but I felt the need even still to reassure him, “There isn’t a reason for anyone to hurt me now.” The words were thick in my throat. “I already failed. I already showed them I couldn’t do it.” I couldn’t be good enough for you.

“No one will hurt you,” his voice was hard, that rage bubbling under it. “No one will mock you. I’ll make sure of it. You see my eyes? I’m not lying. No one is going to bring you to ridicule over this…incredibly foolish thing.”

And I couldn’t see his eyes. I could barely see anything. He was an occasional deepening of shadow, a heat and a voice. Maybe it was the draught that Grezha had given me that made me say it. “Liar,” I whispered. “You still tease me about the dark. You’re teasing me right now.”

His hand froze on my shoulder. “...damnit. You can’t see right now?”

“No, it’s dark.”

“I keep forgetting. You can't see? But the fire⁠—"

“I can see your shadow sometimes. Not enough to…look into your eyes or take a cup or…” I forgot not to move my hip and for a moment, everything was swallowed up by agony.

When my breathing returned to normal and the worst of it eked away, he spoke again. “You could tell me when it’s too dark.”

“No.” I managed the littlest shake of my head. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing? Why?”

“Because I don’t need to show people again and again that I’m not good enough for you. I don’t need another way to look broken when everyone already knows I am.” Tears stung at my eyes. I couldn’t hide. I squeezed my eyes closed.

He was silent, in the dark. My heart pounded. The base of my skull still dully throbbed.

He drew breath. “This has really bothered you.”

I didn’t answer. The tears swelled in my throat, and I didn’t know if they were from our conversation or the pain. Maybe pain made everyone weak like this. I felt so very much a child. There were so many things wrong; why were we even talking about this one?

“You don’t have to say anything. You signal.” He touched my wrist, tapped his fingers against it. “If you can't see, tap me twice, like this. I can look after you, and no one else needs to know.”

I managed a nod. Nodding was mostly safe. I could still nod.

“I’m going to be here with you, alright? You’re going to be okay. If you heal, I will be with you every moment till you don’t need me. And if you don’t, I will find whoever— wizard, cleric, alchemist— whatever damned freak is needed to make this right.”

“Grezha doesn’t think it will come to that.”

“Grezha doesn’t know everything. But you need to know I’ll kill whoever I have to to make you safe.”

Somewhere in that darkness, the fire crackled. In another room, Grezha stirred in her sleep. And his shadow stayed over me, his breath warm, his touch soft.

“I don’t think I can pay this back,” I whispered. “You’re taking on too much burden, for someone you won’t keep.” I told myself the tears were pain.