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Melody, in true impish style, has already begun a circuitous path toward the warlord, who eyes her approach.
“Are you the warlord?” she asks.
“I am,” he replies.
“Do you have any toffee apples?”
He raises both brushy brows and looks toward Jendrick in question.
Jendrick bows near in two again. “The child is partial to the treats found in the market, my liege.”
“Treat? What manner of absurdity is a toffee apple?”
Jendrick shrugs helplessly and turns toward Bard.
Bard clears his throat. “My liege, if I may explain. It is an apple that has been dipped in toffee.”
“Sounds thoroughly disgusting,” the warlord says, still tracking Melody’s approach as she closes the final gap.
She smiles sweetly up at him and dares to close her fingers around his great and meaty hand. “You should try them,” she says. “Eating toffee apples makes people happy.” I bite my lip to hide my smile. The child disarms everyone. “You have beautiful hair. May I plait it?”
“Melody—” Jendrick begins, a definite warning in his tone.
The warlord surprises all of us by emitting a deep guffaw. “She is fine.” He waves a dismissive hand at Jendrick and smiles down at her. “I believe you have been helping Jendrick with his important portal work?”
“We are finding new worlds,” she announces happily.
“The child is natural in ways of portal lore,” Jendrick explains. “Symbols that have eluded our understanding are instinctive to Melody. Three new worlds have already been identified.”
“Good.” The warlord nods his head approvingly before he turns, and his eyes come to rest on a nearby guard. “See that the cook prepares these toffee apples… and whatever else she wishes.”
“Honey cake,” Melody pipes up. “Only no one knows how to make it here. Not like my Mama used to make. I think I could find portal worlds faster if only I had some.”
The warlord chuckles and nods his head at the guard, who looks deeply affronted by this request. “And honey cake, whatever that might be. Tell the cook this is a priority.” He lowers his indulgent smile upon Melody. “I dare not let my mate near you, for fear she will make you into a pet.” His eyes shift to rest upon Doug, whom I note is standing attentively still. “You have a fine companion guarding you. A white orc, no less. Doug, it has been some time. Were my sister not a bitch, you might have had a better life. Yet here you are. Know that she loved your father deeply. That he used her to gain information on me was a sore point. One that she took out upon you. Still, such is the way of things. You still bear my blood, and that counts for something.” He turns back to Melody while my jaw hangs slack. “Now, my dear child, why don’t you give me a demonstration, hmm?”
Melody, excited by the prospect of toffee apples and honey cake, is only too eager.
I barely notice what follows. The real world fades under the pounding of my heart. Do I understand the warlord’s words clearly? As I send a surreptitious glance Doug’s way, I’m convinced that I do.
Doug, my white orc, my mate, is nephew to the Blighten warlord.
* * *
It’s late and already dark by the time our duties are over. The whole time I can concentrate on nothing save the revelation that Doug is a nephew to the Blighten warlord. Rignor even acknowledged that his sister mated to a shifter, and this was why Doug was cast out of favor. Further, the warlord appeared to have disapproved of this decision… I believe he might even care for Doug.
I’m confused about much of it. The orc who leads the Blighten is a monster responsible for the death of my family and the destruction of the village, yet he did not seem like a monster when I met him today.
He seemed much like any high-ranking leader, a little full of self-importance but still regal.
He was not unkind to Melody, and while I understand he is spoiling her with treats so she will facilitate his domination plans, he could have gone about it in ways so much worse.
As the rickety door shuts on us, Doug is on me, stripping my dress with barely suppressed urgency and tossing me onto the mattress. My legs are prized open, and he gets that gleam in his eyes that tells me I am in for a rough ride. I press my hand to the center of his chest, stilling him before he can go down. “We need to talk.”
I wince as the words leave my mouth.
He raises both brows.
I blush with mortification at my poorly worded phrase. Not so long ago, my state of nakedness with an orc between my thighs would have made me blush, now, it is the accidental insult falling from my lips that brings heat to my cheeks.
