Page 9

CHAPTER NINE

Jorak

I don’t think Verna slept that night.

I told myself ‘twas because of her late nap, but I’d seen the way the blood had drained from her face when I’d read the deed to her, and I had a suspicion of what it meant.

Still, if she didn’t want to tell me what was bothering her, ‘twas not my place to push her. I wanted to protect her, aye, but only if she’d allow it.

So I laid there in the bed, my arm around her middle as it had been the night before, and listened to her think. Och, well, I couldn’t actually hear her mind whirling, but I knew that was what was happening. Her breathing was too fast and occasionally hitched as if she was fighting tears.

It took every bit of control I possessed not to roll her over and demand she confide in me.

At some point, I dozed. Mayhap she slept then as well, but I was wakeful enough to know that she hadn’t turned to me like she had the night before. Dawn seemed a long time in coming.

When we both climbed from the bed, I realized that hot, itchy, irrational sensation was lodged in my chest once more, and I scratched at my skin to try to rid myself of it.

It didn’t work.

The animals didn’t need much, and I returned in time to help Verna with the porridge. We worked in silence, and I wanted to tell her that I could make it, and she should rest…but I was selfish enough to admit that I enjoyed having her beside me.

How strange. After seven years alone, seven years in my careful, solitary routine, I enjoyed having someone else in my space? I might have laughed at myself, were I the type to laugh.

I ladled the porridge while Verna held the bowls. I’d become used to doing things with only one hand…but having two extra around was more helpful than I expected.

Or mayhap ‘twas just her .

I grabbed the honey pot from the mantel and settled myself on my stool as she placed the bowl in front of me. But instead of joining me, Verna stepped back and clasped her hands in front of her.

My brows drawing in, I glanced up at her in question and saw her take a deep breath.

“The weather is fine today.” She wasn’t looking at me, but at a spot over my head.

I grunted a cautious agreement.

She took another deep breath. “I would ask…I would like…”

Her worry was affecting me. If she wouldn’t confide in me, then at least I could do my best to reassure her. I plopped my spoon down and pushed the bowl out of the way so I could lean my arm on the table and face her fully.

“What is it, lass?”

“I need to go to the village. Bloodfire Village.”

Ah. My lips tugged into a frown and now ‘twas me who looked away.

“Of course,” I mumbled. I’d known that was her destination from the moment I began tracking her small prints in the snow. It should come as no surprise.

So why did my chest feel so tight at this revelation? Why did I want to snarl and break things?

Because I’d only just become used to having her here. With me.

And now I was losing her.

“I would ask you to allow me to borrow one of the horses. Just borrow,” she was quick to assure me, when I finally was able to glance her way. The gods below knew what my face looked like when I saw how quickly she tried to reassure me.

“When I get to the village, I can have it taken care of for you?—”

“I need supplies,” I managed, turning back to the table. ‘Twas easier to focus on eating, so I pulled my bowl to me. “I’ll take ye.”

The way she sucked in a breath, then held it, told me she hadn’t expected that.

“Really?” she whispered.

I couldn’t speak, so I shoved a spoonful into my mouth and managed a nod. Aye, of course I’d go with her. I had to keep her safe, did I not?

She exhaled and carefully stepped toward the opposite stool.

“I suppose…I know this might seem difficult to believe…” She seemed hesitant as she perched on the edge of the seat. “But I really do know how to ride. And follow a map, if you would draw one for me.”

I suppose, if she was raised on a farm, she wasn’t ignorant of woodlore. I remembered the small prints I’d found, hidden inside of my larger ones. I remembered the way she’d sought out the shelter of a fir tree’s trunk—the needles to keep her warm and the branches to protect her from more snow when she’d realized her journey was impossible.

And I mentally kicked myself for considering her not ignorant . Nay, she was…

Since I could see from the corner of my eye that she was still watching me, I swallowed twice to get my voice to work.

“I have confidence in ye.”

“You do not have to come, Jorak,” she whispered. “I know you prefer it here.”

I merely grunted and spooned another bite of porridge into my mouth. I did prefer it here. That didn’t mean I wasn’t going to go with her.

Verna sighed and stood, and my protective instincts kicked in.

“Eat. We have a long day ahead of us and ye’ll need yer energy.”

I saw her nod, saw her reach for her bowl, saw her play with her spoon. Finally, though, she placed it back on the table and looked up at me.

“I have to go, Jorak. I am sorry. I know you are likely happy to see the last of me, and I?—”

I don’t know what she would’ve said, because I glanced up so quickly at her claim I wanted her to go, that she snapped her mouth closed.

She studied me with drawn brows, worrying. Again. Fook . I forced myself to relax, to hide the irritation and disappointment I was feeling, and it must have worked, because, after a long minute, Verna picked up her spoon again and began to eat.

“If you…if you really do not mind escorting me to your village—or rather, allowing me to accompany you on your supply run, I would be grateful if you could introduce me to Nan.”

My sharp glance had her blushing, and she hurried to explain.

“I know I gave all the stolen scrolls to you, Jorak, and I hope you will not think me ungrateful. But…that deed belongs to your great-aunt, and she needs to have it.” Verna glanced over her shoulder at the cubbies. “And ‘twould be safer if it could not be found here.”

Who would think to look for it here? I shook my head.

“I’m no’ mad, lass. Nan does deserve to have the deed. And the property, if she wants it.”

Verna was scraping at her bowl. “She would want to return to the human world?”

“Nay,” I shrugged, knowing ‘twas the truth. “But orc and human pairings can produce different kitlings. Male children are born looking like their fathers, while females look more like their mothers. While we have few human males in the village, one of Nan’s daughters Mated a human, and their daughters look fully human. Mayhap she’ll grant the deed to one of them as a dowry.”

I shrugged again, not really caring what she did with the property.

But Verna seemed fascinated. “What if one of her daughters married— Mated with an orc?”

“It happens frequently. Their offspring look like full-blooded orcs. Torvolk is her grandson, and he looked?—”

“Just like you,” she breathed, eyes wide as she studied me.

But I scoffed. “Nay, Torvolk is broader, stronger.”

More capable. A better fighter. More controlled.

“So? Ye are far more handsome.”

When I jerked my gaze up in surprise, Verna blushed and bent over her porridge again.

She thought me handsome ? I was missing a fooking arm , by Palton’s Spear!

But I continued to watch her, and when she shifted, I caught the faint scent of her arousal and knew she was thinking of yesterday.

I wanted to do that for her again. Gods below, I wanted to make her scream my name. I wanted to claim her, I wanted to please her. I wanted to protect her, to take care of her.

But she wanted to go to the village.

And I would honor that.

After we broke our fast, I went back to the byre to ready the animals to survive on their own for a few days.

“Brown hen, ye’re in charge,” I commanded sternly. “I’ll be back soon. Dinnae eat all yer grain at once.”

The chicken pecked at my boots in a clear indication she spoke only Chicken.

“Dinnae fash, I’m just dropping off Verna, and will then return to eat ye.”

The blasted animal gave a mighty cluck and flapped her wings in what seemed like disapproval. Resisting the urge to kick her back to her coop, I stomped over to the horses.

They’d been enjoying the exercise I’d been offering them, but since the morning I’d ridden out after Verna’s tracks, I hadn’t bothered saddling one. ‘Twas a pain in the arse with only one arm, but I could no’ allow that to stop me now.

Still, I was sweating by the time I got the gelding saddled.

The door opened behind me, and I almost snapped that I wasn’t ready yet, but Verna looked so…uncertain, and I pressed my lips together. She’d braided her hair, hiding her glory, and had removed the rag she wore at her waist as an apron. Her bright red cloak hung around her shoulders, and she clutched something wrapped in a towel.

I nodded to the bundle. “Gifts?”

She glanced down, as if it held the answers. “I made some more apple spread. I hope you do not mind I used one of your empty crocks. I just…I want them to like me.”

Oh, gods below.

“They’ll like ye, lass,” I sighed, scrubbing my hand over my face. “How could they no’?”

She seemed a little more assured as she considered my words. She peeked up at me.

“I also wanted to ask… I know ‘twas part of my gift to you, along with the scrolls, but could I borrow the satchel again? To carry Nan’s deed and this crock?”

Oh, for fook’s sake.

“Ye can take aught ye want, Verna. Everything.” After all, she was taking part of me with her, was she not? “Ye’ll need both yer hands free to ride.”

That got her attention. She plopped one of those hands on her hips and eyed the unsaddled horse speculatively. “And if I told you I do not wish to ride by myself?”

Part of me—I suspected ‘twas my Kteer leapt to attention at this news, but I pretended disbelief. “I’d no’ believe ye. Ye told me ye were a capable rider.”

She shrugged. “May I ride with you?

I wanted that. By Torvor’s Hammer, I wanted that. But I kept my voice nonchalant.

“Ye’ll have to ride behind me. I cannae hold ye and the reins.” As much as I wanted to.

Her smile lit up my world, and when she whirled back to the cottage with a cheerful, “I will be only a moment!” I felt my claws digging into my chest, as if I could dig out my very heart.

Mate .

My Kteer whispered the word, and I didn’t want it to be right.

But I think I knew it already.

Verna had come into my life like a strong north wind, disrupting everything. And now that she was leaving it, I couldn’t imagine what my lonely life would be like without her.

We were halfway to Bloodfire Village before she stirred against my back. I’d wondered if she’d fallen asleep back there.

“Jorak?”

I was never going to grow tired of hearing my name, my true name, on her lips.

“Hm?”

“What I said earlier...”

When I twisted in the saddle, she loosened her hold on me, and I raised a brow in question.

She raised one right back. “I can ride.”

“Aye. Ye said ye could.”

A smile tugged at her lips and she snuggled closer once more. “I just wanted the chance to…I wanted to hold you. One last time.”

That last part dimmed my Kteer’s joy at hearing the first part.

“Aye, well…” I turned back to stare at the horse’s ears. “Ye willnae get lost this time, at least.”

“I was not lost last time,” she sniffed. “I was just…slow.”

Behind us, the other horse plodded along serenely. I could offer to move her to his back, but I didn’t want to lose her yet.

“If ye hadnae been wearing that ridiculous cloak that day, I might no’ have found ye,” I rasped, desperate to think of something else. Remember the fear, that ye wouldnae reach her in time . “I assumed ye dinnae understand woodlore if ye wore something so garish.”

She sniffed again.

“’ Tis garish.” There was no humor in her tone. “Alred gave it to me two years ago. Said I should…” I felt her hold on me tighten. “Said I should look like a whore.” Another sniff, and when she spoke again, her voice was falsely cheerful. “But ‘tis warm enough.”

I closed my eyes at her words, trying to hide some of my rage when I growled, “He deserves to die.”

“He cheated and tricked so many women?—”

“He hurt and abused females whom he should have protected.” My knuckles ached from how hard I was gripping the reins. “I wish…”

I felt her stir.

“What do you wish, Jorak?”

My Kteer howled at me to face my enemy, defeat him in battle. Lose control, allow my primitive instincts free rein. But the last time that happened…

I shook my head, unwilling to voice my past.

“He will never find himself on this side of the stones, so I willnae be able to face him, even if I could.”

My Kteer whispered, Ye should go to the human’s world for yer Mate’s revenge . But I was no warrior, and Verna was not my Mate.

At my back, Verna shuddered and pressed closer, and I vowed to speak no more about it.

She didn’t stir again until we saw the smoke from the village chimneys, and then I felt her shifting as she peered around in curiosity. As we approached the outskirts, she gasped in surprise.

“There is no…where is the castle?”

I shook my head. “Orcs have nae need for castles. Our chiefs live just like the rest of us, and we would never attack females and kitlings.”

“That is why there is not a surrounding wall?” She didn’t give me time to answer. “Your chief really lives in one of these cottages and not in a mighty home? Kra-karg—What is his name?”

The horse slowly picked its way toward the center square, and I exchanged reserved nods with those who recognized me.

“Aye, Kragorn lives in the house with the blue door.” I gestured with my chin, because I was preoccupied with keeping the horses in line. “But he has been missing since the autumn, in a raid against the Bladesedge and their allies. Torvolk and others have been searching for him.”

I could feel Verna twisting about, trying to take in everything.

“There are so many humans! That woman just waved to me. Everything is so… friendly looking.”

Was it? I tried to see Bloodfire Village through her eyes, and supposed she was right. The homes were waddle-and-daub, freshly painted and thatched. The cookfires perfumed the air with delicious scents, and the villagers—more orcs than humans, but plenty of humans—went about their duties with welcoming smiles.

I only visited a few times a year; most of the time Kragorn sent the supplies I needed—my “payment” for my duties—via one of the young males. Now, though, I tried to see what Verna saw…and realized just how pleasant the village was. Especially to a female who had been stuck alone with me.

My heart ached at the thought of leaving her here, and I was surprised it had naught to do with my Kteer . My heart— I was going to miss her, but I would be content knowing how much happier she’d be here, among her own kind.

“Keeper?”

I twisted in the saddle when I heard the male’s relieved bellow, and my brows rose to see Vartok drop his hammer and hustle out of his smithy.

“Oh, thank the gods, I have need of ye!” he announced, reaching me and pulling the lead of the second horse from my pommel as his various charms and beads clinked. “Are ye here to stay?”

He…needed me? I shook my head in confusion.

“I’m dropping off—” Verna squeezed me, and I turned my attention to her. “Verna, this is our chief’s brother, Vartok. He’s been in command since Kragorn’s disappearance.”

The handsome male smiled charmingly at her, and my Kteer growled in warning.

“Welcome to Bloodfire Village, Verna.” The attractive arsehole offered a little bow, and I told myself I wasn’t going to turn to see if she was blushing at the attention. “I look forward to hearing yer story.”

My knuckles tightened on the reins as I fought the urge to kick in Vartok’s tusks—rings and all. He was being charming—he was always being charming—and I couldn’t fault him for trying to woo Verna. She was bonny and needed a male like him to keep her safe.

‘Twas logical. Ordered. So no wonder that my Kteer rebelled against it, demanding I protect her from Vartok’s charm.

He now turned a relieved smile my way. “I wasnae meant to lead, Keeper. Tell me ye have news of my brother?”

When I shook my head mutely, he deflated, then shrugged and scrubbed a hand down his face.

“Och, well, I suppose I’m no’ surprised. Nae one can come through the stones since Torvolk, and I’ve already sent him south to look for news with the Battleborn. His new Mate is pining for him, puir lass.”

I felt Verna lean around me, still holding tightly. “Isadora is living here?”

She had guessed who Vartok meant.

“Aye,” the other man agreed with a rueful grin. “Torvolk refuses to see their Mating Bond.” He nodded to me conspiratorially, although I didn’t know why. “I expect him back afore Midwinter’s Festival, and maybe then he’ll put the wee thing out of her misery.”

Enough small talk. “Why do ye need me?” I barked. “I need to return…”

Verna stiffened behind me, and I had to resist the urge to turn and comfort her. I didn’t know what was wrong.

Vartok, however, was already shaking his head, sending his beaded braid swaying. “Ye ken more about our people—our history, our traditions—than anyone. I’ve never had to lead afore, and I’m reaching the end of what I can manage on my own. I need ye to help guide me.”

I’d reared back at the I need ye . Had anyone ever needed me?

Verna did. Ye saved her life .

I suppose ‘twas true. And now Vartok was staring up at me hopefully, so I nodded slowly.

“Aye, I suppose…I’ll answer what I can.” Being needed? It felt…strange. Good.

“Thank ye,” the other male exhaled gratefully, then stepped back. “I’ll let ye get settled in and come to talk to ye in the morning. Dinnae fash about supplies—yer home is cold, but we’ve kept it clean and stocked for ye, and I’ll have someone bring ye a meal soon.”

He clucked his tongue to the horse and moved toward the stables, and I could only watch, dumbfounded. The clan’s acting chief needed me ? He had a place saved for me here?

Behind me, Verna stirred. “You have a home in the village?”

“I…” Shaking my head, I urged our horse toward the setting sun. “I did. Afore I took up the mantle of Bloodfire Keeper, I had my own cottage, which belonged to my father afore me. I assumed…”

When I trailed off, she poked me. “You assumed what?”

“I have no’ lived here for almost seven years.” As soon as I’d healed from the shameful injury, I’d been desperate to atone for my lack of control and moved to the Keeper’s byre-cottage. “I expected them to have given the home to someone else.”

But when we reached the cottage, ‘twas exactly as I recalled it; neat, ordered, if mayhap a bit overgrown with the ivy climbing up the right wall.

“Oh, Jorak, it is lovely!” Verna eagerly swung down, using my boot as a step. “May I see inside?”

As if I would deny her aught. At my nod, she beamed and pushed open the door. I could hear her delighted squeal from outside, but I hid my smile as I climbed down more carefully.

I would fetch the horse to the stable soon, but first I wanted to see her reaction to my home.

Home ? Nay, the Keeper’s byre-cottage was my home, was it not?

“Oh, Jorak, ‘tis so cozy.” When Verna twisted in a circle to take it all in, her red cloak billowed around her. “Are the linens in that chest? I will make the bed. Oh, look, you even have a desk here! Where did you keep your scrolls when you lived here?”

My lips curling into a reluctant grin, I nodded to the space beneath the desk. “In a chest. I brought it with me when I moved away.”

Busy pulling out blankets for the bed, Verna threw over her shoulder, “When you move back, we will ask someone to build us cubbies over the desk for your library!”

‘Twas said so causally.

As if I would be giving up my life and returning to live here. With her.

I wanted to be with her, but my place wasn’t here. Was it?

“I will get the fire going in the hearth,” she offered as she dropped the linens to the mattress with a pleased smile, “if you want to take care of the horse.”

‘Twas remarkable, how cheerful she could be while laboring. I wanted to do all these things for her. I wanted her to sit and rest while I fetched food for her, and warmed her with fire, and made her bed.

But thanks to my mistakes of my past, I couldn’t. I could never be the male she needed me to be.

So I nodded once and backed out of the house, telling myself I deserved this shame.