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Distantly, I hear the clamor, the cries, and approaching footfall and see the glow of torches getting ever brighter.
Through the open wall behind Jasmine, orc guards storm in.
* * *
Jasmine
They take Doug away… in chains.
He goes meekly, and somehow that is worse. I cannot stop shaking. When I open my mouth to speak, stammered gibberish comes out.
I am taken back to the residence, where lights blaze, and bondservants bustle about. Guards are everywhere. In front of the cold hearth of the hall, the steward and the orc guard captain engage in a heated discussion that is lost to me under the broader noise of conversation. The head cook is at my side—Pippa and a few bondservants that I know also gather around. Then Bard is striding over, face full of concern, as I’m handed a cup with water to drink.
I’m shaking so hard that I spill most of it.
“D—Doug.” I stammer.
Bard shakes his head. “He has been taken to the barracks under guard.
Anxiety crawls over me. I need to go to him. I need to see him. Why did they put him in chains? I cannot bear it if they whip him.
My mind is full of chaotic scenes.
Blood everywhere.
Trent’s broken body.
A huge white beast.
Then the great door bursts open, and Edwin strides in. With his long dark hair loose and flowing over his shoulders, he is every inch an imposing and barbaric orc general.
The riot of chatter tapers off.
“What is this about?” Edwin demands.
“A bondservant is dead, my lord,” the steward says. “Doug killed him. Another bondservant was involved.” He stabs a finger at me, his tone ripe with censure. “Likely the lass was pitching them against one another. They will both need to be punished.”
“Doug was defending his mate,” a nearby orc guard rumbles. I have sometimes seen him with Doug, and I remember now that his name is Bron. “I caught Trent cornering the lass a week ago.”
“We need to take a firm line, my lord,” the steward persists.
“Enough!” Silence descends in the wake of Edwin’s roar. “Do not counsel me on how to run my household, lest yourself beside them on the whipping post.”
The blood drains from my face and, for the second time this evening, I faint dead away.
* * *
I rouse to the sensation of a cool cloth against my forehead and plush comfort beneath me.
“She is waking, my lord.”
I slowly blink my eyes open, and Bard’s worried face comes into view.
His smile is brief. “You gave us quite a fright then, Jasmine.” I try to sit up but he stops me. “Take your time. Let me help you.
My lip throbs from where Trent hit me, and my dress is torn and filthy. My throat aches where his fingers gripped—there will be a bruise there, come the morrow. Thankfully, a cloak has been placed around me, offering a much-needed element of modesty. I stare around the rooms, realizing I’m lying on a couch in Edwin’s study. The orc lord paces before the fire, pausing now and then to swipe his big hand through his long hair. Somehow he seems less civilized tonight, like I’m seeing him once more as an orc as I remember how Doug killed a man so quickly and easily.
He has killed for me before, only that time it was a bear, and there were no consequences.
