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When I glance up, Drazak is staring at me, and for once his brow isn’t deeply creased. I’m idling, and I don’t want to idle in front of him. That was always the master’s rule: the help—me and Benny, the butler—must always look busy. The only time I could rest was when everyone else was asleep. Then I’d take a breather, maybe read a book. Usually, I was so tired I passed out with the pages smooshed against my face, wasting a candle when I was only allowed one a month.
So while Drazak watches me I set about tidying, as much as you can tidy a house that’s already clean. I neaten the wood pile and clear the table, trying my hardest not to think about what I saw, or imagine what it looks like when Han’zir and Drazak are naked in their bedroom. I chew on my fingernails as I debate what else I can do to appear busy.
“Keva.” Drazak’s voice is as gruff as always. I spin around, clasping my hands behind my back. My arm doesn’t hurt at all now. I have to thank him for that when I figure out how.
“Yes?” I ask in Trollkin, appearing attentive.
The line that travels down his stern, wide-jawed face deepens. I think I’ve displeased him somehow.
He gestures at the floor next to him at the fire and says a word that’s familiar. I think he wants me to sit down. Doing as I’m told, I kneel on the floor a polite few feet away. With a grunt of annoyance, Drazak urges me closer to him, and I wonder what it is he wants. Will he show me something, perhaps a spot I missed when I was cleaning?
Once I scoot over, though, he doesn’t say anything else and turns back to the fire. I wait and wait for him to tell me what to do, but nothing comes. Eventually I shift to a cross-legged position, staring into the flicking flames along with him. I can pick up his scent from here, earthy and the tiniest bit greasy from working on farm equipment. He smells strong and hardy, like not even a mountain could knock him over.
I wonder what the purpose of this was? Sitting next to him quietly, though unsettling at first, eventually becomes comfortable. For the first time Drazak seems relaxed, as much as he does when Han’zir enters a room. He might act a little harsh, but the soft spot he has for the troll is obvious. I find that I envy it, how Drazak smiles when Han’zir gets sassy, which is often. I wish that maybe, just maybe, he would look at me like that, too.
But attention is never good. Standing out means a stick to the knees from the major, or a harsh reprimand from the master. It’s much better to go unnoticed, to pass from one task to the next like a ghost.
Still, I shuffle a hair’s breadth closer to Drazak, finding I want even more of that musky smell that reminds me of the farm, of sunny days caring for the crops, of home. His gaze drifts down to mine, and for the first time, he doesn’t seem angry with me. I like how it looks on him, how the lines of his face smooth out, how handsome it makes him look.
I hope he hasn’t heard my thoughts, but he tilts his head towards me like maybe he has. He’s just begun saying, “Keva...” when the door flies open.
Han’zir has managed to dress himself, and when he joins us by the fire, Drazak draws away from me, clearing his throat and getting up as he finds some excuse to busy about. Han’zir glances between us, one eyebrow raised.
I wish that I could have heard what Drazak was going to tell me. When I fall asleep that night in my loft, I imagine many different soft words that might have come out.
Han’zir
There is something peculiar going on between Drazak and the puppy. I don’t quite know what it is yet, but believe me, I’m watching with fervent interest. My mother said I’ve always had a sense of things, a knowing beyond what we can see. And right now I am certain there is a wire strung tight between them, taut and waiting to be plucked.
She is fascinating, the little human. I admire how hard she works for Drazak’s approval. I encourage her whenever possible to draw his attention, to get closer to him, hoping maybe she’ll break through one of his high, thick walls. He could use that, I think. It’s not good for him to be so tense all the time.
That’s the other interesting thing. My orc has become far more self-conscious, and works even harder than before. When Esme is around, his muscles clench like he’s trying not to break something. It’s curious, because I don’t think he hates her. He’s snappish and huffy sometimes, but never cruel. He doesn’t even raise his voice with her the way he does with me. But he’s always so stiff that I wonder if it gives him some uncomfortable strain.
To top it all off, Drazak’s sex drive has gone through the roof. I didn’t mind it at first, but now I puzzle over what it means. Does he feel this hunger for her, too?
One night, while he’s buried inside me up to the hilt, searching around for his prize while he slowly strokes my cock, we hear a scream from the barn.
Esme.
Immediately Drazak is moving, leaving me on my hands and knees on the bed. He snatches his pants up off the floor and yanks them on while he blazes out of the house.
I’m not far behind as we race towards the barn. Another of Esme’s shrieks echoes across the field. She’s yelling something in her language, angry and frantic.
When we reach the barn, she’s got a rake in her hand, and she’s surrounded on three sides by coyotes. There’s an injured chicken on the ground and she’s standing over it, rake raised and ready to attack.
“Puppy!” I call out. The moment they see us, the coyotes scatter. A human woman, maybe they could have taken her. Two full sized trollkin? Absolutely not.
When we approach, Esme falls to her knees next to the chicken. “I’m sorry,” she says, trying to help it back to its feet. But it’s not going to survive. Her eyes are red. “I’m sorry.” She looks more panicked at the idea that we’ll be angry at her than the fact she was almost attacked.
“Hey,” I say, reaching out to touch her shoulder. She flinches at first, but relaxes into me as I rub a circle on her back. “This wasn’t your fault.” I shoot a sidelong glance at Drazak. “You did your best to protect it.”
He doesn’t react at first, his eyes simply wide and his breathing ragged. Then, with an imperious sureness in his steps, Drazak marches over and picks up the chicken. He snaps its neck in one short, quick movement, and the creature falls dead. Esme gasps, covering her mouth as he stalks out of the barn, not waiting for us to catch up.
We follow along behind him, and I don’t think either of us know what he’s up to.
First, he starts the fire pit and strips the chicken. He spears it through and sets it over the flames before retreating into the house. When he comes back, he carries two separate flasks, and puts one in each of our hands.
Esme stares down at hers blankly, then up at him again with a question in her eyes.
