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I shrug, even though she can’t see me sitting in front like she is. “I am a good uncle when I am home. But I spend many of my days in court at Ilustan, supporting the king. I am not often home in the ka Xonok lands.”

“That is so curious,” the trolless remarks. “You used to never be in Ilustan. It drove Guruk to distraction that you always avoided his invitations. What has changed?”

This is dangerous territory once again. I cannot tell her the reasons for my absence, and now my presence, are both her. So instead, I reply with a half-truth, grateful that she does not have an orc nose that could smell such things. “The king changed. I never liked Guruk. I found him weak and cowardly, desperately clinging to the throne by any means necessary. I knew that he only wished to have me at his side to use as a weapon against challengers. A tool to increase his power. He had convinced himself that we were friends, but I never saw him as such. Rognar is his opposite in every way. Strong in his compassion, wise in his judgement. He wields force only in defense of his people and their peace. I would follow him into any battle, on any quest. If he needs me at court, there I will stay.”

“Even if you miss your homelands?” Melelea asks softly.

“I do not miss them as much these days,” I say, then silently curse. Fuck, that was careless. If she asks why it is easier, I don’t know how to answer her without revealing my heart. Seeing her every day at Ilustan makes me feel more at home than I have ever been.

Luckily, she doesn’t pick up on my slip of the tongue. Instead, she laughs again, but this time with a bitter tinge. “Guruk would have been shocked to hear your opinion of him, but I remember when you told me of it in Goetia. Though, perhaps in not so blatant of terms. It was why I wanted Rognar to train with you when he reached his training years. I used every bit of influence I had to get Guruk to send him to you. I did not want Rognar to grow into his father.”

I never knew that it was Melelea who wanted Rognar to train with me. The knowledge strikes me like a blow, knowing that she trusted me, even then, with her precious son. That she wanted to protect Rognar from becoming his father, that bastard.

“How can you speak of that orc so plainly?” I rasp out.

“Who?” Melelea asks. “Guruk?”

“He was a monster,” I reply. “He . . . hurt you. And Rognar. How can you say his name so freely?”

Melelea tilts her head in thought. Her long purple hair brushes against my arm as she does so, giving me another whiff of her tantalizing scent.

“It was not always so easy to speak of him,” she admits. “And truthfully, I do not think of him unless I must. But refusing to speak his name or acknowledge what he’d done merely gave him power over my present that I would not grant him. He was a monster in his actions, yes, but under that he was, as you said, a weak orc. An orc terrified of disappointing the spectre of his father. Not so frightening when you think of him that way, is he?”

“No,” I agree. “Not so frightening.”

I take a breath, then chance admitting something I have never said aloud before. “I didn’t know what he was doing, Melelea. Not while it was happening. I would have killed him if I’d known.”

“Would you have?” Melelea asks, looking surprised. “Challenged your king for a female that you barely knew?”

“Yes,” I rasp out. “It is my great shame that I did not before you had to escape.”

Melelea absorbs my confession. Does she realize what my words truly mean? The feelings that I have tried so long to hide from her?

If she does, she doesn’t acknowledge them. “Then you are better than all the orcs who were at Ilustan at the time,” she says softly. “No one else seemed to care. Their positions were more important than the pain of one trolless.”

“They were cowards,” I spit out, even as I feel the pain of shame once again. “And they will never bother you again.”

Because most of them are dead, I silently finish. After Rognar won the King’s Challenge against Guruk, I helped him weed out those still loyal to his father and the ways of his grandfather. The entire cabinet of ministers and courtiers were executed for turning a blind eye to Guruk’s tyranny in order to profit from it. Though I am not one to revel in blood, I was glad to use my ax to punish those complicit in Melelea and Rognar’s ill treatment.

“I am glad,” Melelea says, oblivious to my murderous thoughts. “Orik finally seems like it is healing from Guruk and his father. Much of that healing is due to you, I think, Wodred. You guided my son well.”

“I did what any orc of honor would do,” I hedge.

“And yet, under Guruk’s reign, not many did,” she points out. “Take the credit you are due, my friend. I do not speak words just to hear my own voice. I mean what I say.”

“Then, because they come from you, Melelea,” I say, “I will accept them.”

“Good,” Melelea replies, the smile apparent in her voice. “For there are more where they came from.”

I accept her teasing with good humor, my heart warming in my chest. “Then I look forward to hearing them,” I say solemnly, but she takes my words as jest. Her merry laughter peals out, musical and bright. The sound brings a smile to my lips, pulling at my tusks. I have heard her real laugh twice today. That makes it a good day, even though I know we ride toward danger. But I try not to think of that as we ride along the countryside, conversing.

Tomorrow is early enough for worries.