Chapter 7

Perhaps I should be kinder to her. Simka is young, after all, and doesn’t have the same capacity to contain her emotions as I do. But I hate hearing her cry, because it doesn’t fit her character. She’s stronger than this—or so I thought.

Instead, I’ve been disappointed by someone again.

When Pa’zi told me she was leaving me, there were no tears. I wasn’t surprised. A few weeks later, she departed Attirex with her new lover, and then I knew the truth: I’d been second for a long time, and she was simply waiting for the right moment to tell me.

That’s always how these things end. Disappointment.

Eventually Simka quiets. At least she’ll have some rest after all this. Perhaps I should’ve stayed in the bed so she would have a warm body next to hers. I know how comforting it can be to simply not sleep alone.

But that would be foolish. My body would undoubtedly react to hers so close, after the way it betrayed me on our journey. It’s best that we stay apart.

At last, when the fire has burned down to embers, I drift away into darkness.

* * *

Unfortunately, we’re awakened too soon by the sound of the tent flap opening, and an orc arrives carrying our breakfast. He freezes in the doorway as I sit up in my bed on the floor.

“Lover’s quarrel?” he asks with a sly grin as he sets the tray down and retrieves the one from last night. Simka and I must have some special standing here, with her being the sister of the clan leader’s mate, or we wouldn’t be served like royalty this way.

“If that’s what you want to call it,” I say, leaving my furs on the ground. The fresh cut of meat is more than appetizing after the slim rations we had on the way up.

Simka is still dead asleep, and not even our voices have stirred her.

“You should go,” I tell him. “Let her have her rest.”

After the orc’s gone, I make sure only to eat half of what we were given. Eventually Simka does awaken, and she’s bleary-eyed with a puffy face. She must have cried for a long time. I didn’t expect it from someone as tough as she is.

She crawls out of bed long enough to retrieve the tray, then scurries back to the furs with it. She doesn’t speak at all, and when she’s finished, she drops the tray on the floor and lies back down.

“Pouting isn’t going to help,” I tell her as I get to my feet. I plan on exploring the camp today and getting a lay of the land. I need to be prepared for the moment when Gorren and his forces are away and I can slip out, unseen.

“I’m not pouting.” Simka finally looks at me with her lips squeezed tight together, her brow furrowed.

“Looks like a pout to me.” I stretch my arms, then my legs, and head for the door.

“Where are you going?” I don’t miss the tiny tinge of fear in her voice, like my leaving her alone might expose her to some kind of danger.

“Out.” I leave quickly, so I don’t have to look at her any longer. The urge to sit down on the bed and comfort her was powerful, but that won’t help anything. She needs to be tough to get through whatever is coming, and strength doesn’t come from pampering.

Outside, the camp is alive with activity. I’d been under the impression that like wild trolls, wild orcs were uncivilized, disorganized, and mad with their bloodlust. Instead, they’re carrying wood, carcasses, and leather working supplies from one place to another all across the camp, each with their own important tasks. A few whelps are playing a game nearby, trying to toss bones past a stick planted in the snow. I even spot a human here and there, men and women alike, doing their share of the work.

I stroll about the camp, attracting far too much attention as the singular troll among the lot of them. But this is good. They’ll get accustomed to my presence soon, and then when I make my move, no one will look twice at me.

Suddenly, someone slaps me on the back, and I whirl around. My hand goes to the hilt of my sword. The wild orcs didn’t take it from me, which shows a surprising amount of trust based on very little besides Simka’s word that we are, in fact, mates.

“Whoa there,” Gorren says, holding up both arms in surrender. “Just wishing you a good morning.”

I let out a breath and release my sword. “Thanks.” I try my hardest to appear relaxed.

“Sleep well?” He winks, and I’m taken aback at how this gruff orc seems to have a playful side.

“Well enough.” I nod. “Thank you for the food.”

He chuckles. “No need to thank me. I want Vavi’s young sister to feel comfortable and happy here.” The amusement fades from his face. “Can’t have her wanting to leave, can I?”

“Of course. She wouldn’t want to leave her beloved sister.” I try to smile in return. “Or such a luxurious fur bed.”

A booming laugh comes out of him. “Good. I expect you’ll have some whelps of your own soon.” He cocks his head. “You don’t have much time, troll, so you’d better get busy.”

I recognize the dig at my age for what it is. “My parents were older when they had me, and I turned out fine.” A partial truth. I was still a whelp myself when they passed away, and my only brother had long moved on. Most of my young adulthood was spent fending for myself.

“Good.” Gorren gestures at the open space, where a big pit has been dug in the snow and a structure of logs assembled in it. “Tonight we will have a celebration for the two of you and your matehood.” Gorren glances around us, looking for something. He spots whatever it is a few tents away and calls out, “Vavi!”

Quickly, Vavi bounces over to us, looking ripe and full to bursting with whelp. He pulls her into his arms and his hands skim eagerly over her body, as if I’m not even standing here. “You never got a proper mating ceremony, I imagine, living among the Herded?” Gorren asks in Trollkin.

“Herded?” I ask, genuinely not sure what he means.

“The others.” His eyebrows lower, and his voice turns dangerous. “The fools who have decided to tie themselves to kings and chieftains.” He pats me on the shoulder, and his face softens. “But no more of that for you. Your bond will be celebrated here.” He kisses Vavi, and she returns it. “We expect a good show tonight.”

“A… show?” I ask, dreading what that might entail.

“The strength of your bond shining bright,” Gorren answers.

Vavi glances between us as we speak in Trollkin, then frowns at Gorren. “You know I don’t like it when I can’t understand you,” she grumps.

He just grins at her, kissing away her pout. “Sorry.”

Before they walk away, Vavi turns to me. “We look forward to the party, corporal,” she says with a wink.

Great. This is the worst news I’ve gotten since I was sent to this horrid place.

* * *