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Cedar

H is yapira . That’s what he had called her.

Rathka had led Cedar to believe this meant something. That it was a special bond, a sacred bond.

Just words, Cedar thought. They were all just words.

In the morning, she awoke to the strange sensation of warm arms locked around her, keeping her rooted to the bed.

“It’s early, little deer,” she heard Kargorr’s voice say when she moved away. She had forgotten what he sounded like while he was gone, but the familiarity of it washed over her like a warm blanket—which quickly turned cold. It was a very different voice from last night, when he had roared like a bear driven to madness. “Get some more sleep.”

But Cedar had become an early riser in his absence, and she found she couldn’t bear being so close to him. It made her heart squeeze tight, like a curled fist, protecting itself. She tried to worm away, but he held her fast.

“Don’t go yet,” he murmured, lowering his face to her hair.

So she lay there, quite still. As much as her body longed to mold into his, to take him inside her now that he was here again... she could also feel the scratches on her back where he’d pushed her naked body against the tree trunk, and her soul hardened.

At last, Lord Kargorr let out a sigh and released her, sitting up with his thick legs hanging off the bed. She crawled out, put on her clothes, and patted Kiya on the head. It was time for his breakfast.

Usually Rathka would be waiting outside the tent, but Cedar had a feeling that this morning, she wouldn’t be.

Kargorr remained sitting, watching her with unreadable eyes. She wondered if perhaps she wouldn’t be allowed to leave the tent anymore. Perhaps he intended to fulfill the promise he made her once upon a time.

“Are you going to whip me?” Cedar finally asked.

Kargorr’s head jerked up when she spoke, and his eyebrows rose, lips parting around his thick tusks.

“Whip you?” he repeated. He searched her face for a long moment, the silence building louder and louder between them, until he lowered his eyes and shook his head. “No, I will not whip you.”

Her shoulders relaxed, and she thought that at least she had that much. She wouldn’t be marked on the outside to match the fresh scars she bore on the inside.

Kargorr’s lips were anchored in a hard frown as she pulled her cloak tighter around herself.

“Can I go and get breakfast?” she asked, trying to determine whether she was a prisoner again or not.

His dark eyes studied her, and then he rose to his feet in a slow, heavy motion that made him look like he was made of stone.

“I will.”

Cedar’s whole body slumped. She should have expected it. She did expect it. But the misery that came upon her at the idea of being trapped here again, unable to leave the tent with only Rathka for company...

“Come,” he said, and she realized Kargorr was now standing right in front of her. Cedar tilted her head back to look up at him, and he took her chin in his hand. “We will walk there together.”

It looked like he might try to kiss her, but then he hesitated. When she gave a faint nod, he let her go and stepped out of the tent.

Cedar followed behind him, Kiya at her side. Usually the cat strayed away, sniffing things as they went, but today he remained close to her with his eyes pinned on Kargorr, a curl in his lip.

Other orcs greeted Lord Kargorr as they passed, always keeping their gazes down, tapping their chests and nodding with respect. There were many smiles as families had reunited the night before, and the good mood floating around the camp made Cedar want to disappear.

Once they secured food and the cook handed over some raw meat for Kiya, they made their way back to the tent and ate together in silence. Cedar only finished about a third of her portion before pushing it away.

Kargorr looked down at the mostly full bowl, and then up at her face.

“You must eat more than that,” he said, sliding it back toward her. “You are thinner now. It’s not good for the orcling.”

She clenched her teeth together, lips pursed.

That’s all she was to him. A body. A host for his offspring.

Cedar took the bowl back, and shoulders tight to her neck, she forced the rest of the food down.

Kargorr

He had hoped that mentioning their orcling would bring out Cedar’s maternal instinct. Surely, if she didn’t care for him, or herself, she would care about their young. She would take care of her body in order to ensure its survival.

Instead, Cedar had hardened even further, like an animal retreating into its den to hide.

Kargorr had matters to see to, but he was reluctant to leave his yapira without at least bandaging the wound between them. But leading the parog , and the success of his mission, was paramount.

After Cedar had forced down the rest of her breakfast, she sat there quietly, not speaking. Kargorr leaned out of the tent and called someone over to fetch Rathka so his yapira would not be alone. When the old orc woman arrived, she simply nodded to Kargorr in deference, without a shard of obstinance on her.

Cedar did look up as Rathka arrived, and her eyes narrowed. She seemed even more wary now, more closed off, so Kargorr leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“She’s only here to be your friend, little deer,” he murmured. When she gave no response, he sighed into her hair and left.

The new concubines still cried, his warriors told him as they began the long process of unloading goods and dividing them up. He had no advice for them, because his yapira had never been such a weak thing.

A stash was made for further gifts to neighboring parog , and everyone was thrilled at the prospect of so much fresh meat and produce. Some of it had gone bad on their journey, but most survived thanks to the cold, and the cooks were thrilled to have new ingredients to work with.

Orgha found him that afternoon, out in the sparring field, dueling a pair of younger orcs at the same time. Kargorr couldn’t bring himself to return to his tent, not yet. He hoped that perhaps Cedar’s anger would fade if she was given time and space.

But what she felt toward him now, was it really anger? Or something worse?

Kargorr was sweating as he tossed away his weapon and walked to greet his right hand. Orgha tapped his chest.

“There are rumors that your concubine ran in the night,” Orgha said quietly as they began to walk.

It was inevitable. The right thing to do, the correct thing to do to maintain order and reinforce his authority, would be to punish her—publicly.

But then he would never, ever have her back.

“She is my yapira ,” Kargorr hissed. “You will address her as such in private.”

Orgha’s eyes widened, but then he nodded in understanding. “I thought so. And you used your sarga ?”

Kargorr didn’t need to speak it. He had bonded to her in every way. Now he just had to find some way to repair that bond.

A drawn-out sigh fell from Orgha’s lips. “And your mission?” he asked in a pointed tone.

“We will keep it between us for now,” Kargorr commanded. “Until the time is right.” He narrowed his eyes. “Do not tell Rathka.”

Orgha shrugged. “I would not be surprised if she already knows.”

With a grunt of dissatisfaction, Kargorr led them both away from the training field and toward the serving tent. He would find something good for Cedar to eat, perhaps request a food he knew she liked. Syrup-encrusted pork, maybe, as long as he assured her it wasn’t her beloved pig.

“Why did she run?” Orgha finally asked, keeping his voice low so others couldn’t overhear.

Kargorr tensed. While he often treated Orgha like they were on equal footing in their partnership, in truth, Kargorr still had to maintain his right hand’s respect. His authority was important.

But Orgha would also see right through him if he lied.

“She believed I had brought back other women to take as my concubines.” Kargorr’s teeth ground together. If only she had simply asked him. But if she felt the bond as strongly as he did, perhaps the fear of it breaking had been too much for such a small creature to bear. “I found her fleeing into the woods.”

Orgha sucked in a tight breath. For a concubine, the penalty of running should be enormous.

“And did she come back willingly?” Orgha asked.

Kargorr set his jaw. “No.”

The word hung in the air. For once, Kargorr rued his blood rage, the very thing that kept him alive, that granted him the strength to fell his enemies. It had led him so far astray that the damage might never be undone.

After a time, Orgha nodded with understanding. “It will take time to heal,” he said. “Rathka and I have fought many times, but still she remains at my side.”

But this was no argument, what had happened between Kargorr and Cedar.

“You have not hurt her as I have hurt my yapira ,” Lord Kargorr said, grinding out each word. “I do not know if it can be fixed.”

They approached the serving tent, and Orgha stopped to study him.

“Don’t underestimate the power of the soul bond,” he said. “Do whatever you can to bring her back to you, or the gnawing in your belly will only get worse. You may have to... make some concessions.”

Kargorr growled at what he was asking. “I will not claim her in front of the parog . Not yet. There is too much left to do.”

Orgha simply shrugged. “I wish you luck in your quest, then.” And with that, the older orc left him standing there to retrieve his servings of roast beef.

That was not a concession Lord Kargorr could make. But what would it cost him if he didn’t?

Then he remembered. He’d returned to the parog with a trophy from his conquest, one which he’d intended to give to Cedar last night. It wouldn’t fix what he’d done, but perhaps it could form the first step of a bridge over the chasm between them.

Cedar

Rathka was quiet as she sat down at the table where Cedar remained with her empty bowl in front of her.

“That’s good,” the orc woman said gently, piling up the dishes on a tray. “I’m glad you ate.”

Cedar had been forced, but she didn’t say it aloud.

“Has the kazek ’s return improved your mood?” Rathka asked, with a hint of good-natured mockery. Usually, Cedar would fire a barb back at her, but she found she didn’t care to tell the old woman anything.

After minutes of silence passed, Rathka suggested they go for a walk to return the dishes, and Cedar nodded without answering. She rose to her feet and put Kiya, who was already much bigger than even the biggest dog, on a leash. How long would it be until the cat was no longer allowed in their tent and would have to sleep in the snow with the others?

Then she would truly be alone.

They strolled without speaking. Cedar watched orcs busying about, sorting through the spoils of the raid and delighting in what had been brought back. Without asking, Rathka stopped them in front of the leatherworker’s tent and gave Cedar an apprehensive look.

Perhaps the familiar stench of the workshop and the steady, mindless scraping of leather would be a good distraction. Cedar wondered if, now that Kargorr had returned, she would be allowed to continue her work here.

She stepped inside, and the old leatherworker, Carn, turned to greet her. There were piles of new furs littered about, and the smell of carcasses almost overwhelmed her. Cedar had become sensitive to many smells, and things that used to please her now made her stomach churn, but the odor of death here made her feel strangely grounded. It was familiar, and that was all she wanted right now.

Carn must have noted her mood because he didn’t speak to her further, gesturing instead to where he’d already skinned a cow and had the raw hide stretched out. She began the work of preparing it, and it came as second nature by now. She lost herself in the monotony of the task, in the steady movement of her hands as she scraped and applied the foul-smelling mixture and scraped some more.

She had learned all the words she needed to get by in the leatherworker’s shop and picked up new ones every day, listening while she worked as he conversed with other orcs. Perhaps Cedar couldn't speak more than a few words of their language, but she could understand much of what went on around her now.

After a few hours, Kiya came and insistently buried his claws in her shin, reminding her that he had needs.

“I’ll come back soon to help with all of this,” Cedar said, gesturing at the work that lay ahead of them.

“Only if you wish it,” Carn said. “I can handle it alone.”

He probably thought he was doing her a favor. Perhaps it was just a sign of his deference now that Lord Kargorr had returned. But knowing she wasn’t needed made Cedar wither. She liked helping here because she could feel useful, and Carn always appreciated her contribution. But now he was making it clear that he was merely humoring her. So she withdrew, leaving wordlessly with Kiya.

Rathka waited outside, and they walked quietly to the edge of the camp, where Cedar unclipped Kiya’s leash and he went running. She threw snowballs at him the way he liked, and he leapt off the ground, trying to eat them out of the air. He only ever ended up with snow all over his face, but that was part of the game.

A few times, Rathka opened her mouth as if to chide Cedar for something, but then she would close it again and look out over the land, instead. Cedar wondered how much the old orc knew.

Soon, the sun had drifted low and it was time for dinner. When Cedar rose to her feet, Rathka caught her elbow.

“What is wrong with you?” Rathka asked, her brows drawn together. “You haven’t said a word all day, and usually I can’t make you shut up.”

Cedar jerked out of Rathka’s grip. “It has nothing to do with you,” she snapped, surprised even at herself and how sharp her voice came out.

The orc woman studied her with even more interest. “You did run away last night,” Rathka said thoughtfully, more like she was speaking to herself than to Cedar. “That’s why Lord Kargorr left.” She laughed darkly. “I had assumed you were occupied with your agsan .”

It felt to Cedar like a sharp spike to the heart. That’s not who Kargorr was. He would never let her be that person. She knew where she belonged now, and it would never be at his side.

Cedar leaned close to Rathka. “Shut your mouth,” she said in a low, quiet voice. “What happens in my tent stays in my tent. It is for me alone to know.”

Rathka watched her even more carefully, as if trying to decipher what it was Cedar wouldn’t tell her. So Cedar schooled her face into a mask of neutrality and called on Kiya to return to her. He’d gotten so big now that he nearly bowled her over. Cedar still ended up stumbling backward, almost falling over until someone caught her.

“He’s going to be a big cat someday,” she heard Orgha say. Cedar righted herself quickly and put space between them, remembering how those same hands had once grabbed her as she fled for the woods and dragged her back, sentencing her to this fate. “Perhaps he will be bigger than Liga.”

“Sorry,” Cedar said. “He doesn’t know his own strength yet.”

Orgha’s eyes connected with hers, and though they were just as pitch black as Lord Kargorr’s, there was a smattering of concern in them.

“A common occurrence when gifted with great power,” Orgha said carefully. “To not have full control over it. It can lead to many mistakes.”

So he knew. She was merely a mistake . What Kargorr had done to her—a mistake .

“Kiya would never truly harm me,” she said, reaching for the cat’s head to pet him, to try to cool her blood. “Humans—and orcs—can harm in a way Kiya couldn’t dream of.”

But all Orgha did was nod, and then he passed her, stopping in front of Rathka. His fingers tangled in his yapira ’s silver hair, then he drew it to his nose and sniffed it, his body relaxing as he brought in her smell. It was obvious when Rathka felt it, too, because her stiff shoulders softened and she leaned into him, probably without realizing it.

Cedar’s resentment froze into ice in her chest. She snapped on Kiya’s leash and turned away, leading him back to the tent, with or without Rathka.