Chapter 21

SITA

E very day I discover something new and wonderful with Gurrek. I never could have imagined that his finger inside me would be so deliciously good. I’m more excited than ever to go the final distance with him—to feel him on top of me, inside me, surrounding me. I want that more than I’ve ever wanted anything.

I’m sure that when we get there, it will banish the last of my insecurity. Then I’ll know that he truly wants me, even as human as I am.

Each morning, I visit Merka and help with her own work orders. We still spend time on language lessons, but I’m fluent enough that we’re focusing on more complex words and sentence structures. Rarely do I have to ask someone to repeat themselves, and I feel a deep sense of accomplishment.

The other orcs in the village are getting to know me, too, as I make my way around town delivering Gurrek’s orders. I’m starting to feel almost as if it’s my village, the way they greet me when they see me around, how they know my name and I know theirs.

In a strange way, it makes me ache with homesickness. Now that I’m starting to belong here, does that mean I belong less where I came from? How often do my former friends think of me? Does the village butcher remember my name, or am I simply the woman who was sent away and is now a fleeting thought?

As the snows settle in and the days grow shorter, I wonder about Van and Mother. Are they keeping warm? Do they have enough wood stockpiled to keep the fire lit on the coldest nights? As I lie in Gurrek’s bed at night, our bodies warm and tangled up together, I can’t help wondering about them. How has Van fared since taking on the work that used to be mine?

I’m reminded of winters past when my village survived the coldest months of the year by decorating our homes, drinking together, and making merry. I wonder if Mother has allowed Van to have his first mulled wine yet, and whether or not he enjoyed it. Wine has never been my personal favorite.

We see the first sign that winter is well underway when a wild storm approaches the village. Egan, the orc who ordered the metal cuffs, visits us to let us know it’s coming. We bring in more wood than usual, strap down anything that might blow away, and put on our warmest clothes. Luckily, Gurrek doesn’t have any animals that would be affected, so all we need to do is hunker down and cuddle to stay warm.

As predicted, the storm arrives in a bluster of howling wind. The snow hits the windows fiercely until it looks to be nearly pure white outside, then Gurrek draws the curtains to help keep the house warm. Soon, though, the wind grows so intense that the walls around us are shaking, even though they’re made from thick clay, and the roof overhead shivers with every monstrous gust.

“Come here, sweetling,” Gurrek says, bundling up a fur in his lap. “You look so nervous.”

I pull away from the window where I’ve been peeking out into the storm and crawl into the circle of his arms, then curl up against him.

“We never get storms like this down in the valley,” I mutter. Even though I’m not cold here in front of the fire, I still pull my warm sweater tighter around me every time the wind screeches past.

Gurrek strokes my hair. “I imagine it’s surprising for you, living up here in the mountains now.”

“I can’t wait to see it in the summer!” Maybe if I think about warm weather and sunny skies, the storm will pass faster.

His left tusk curls up his cheek as he smiles. “It’s beautiful, and the weather never gets too hot. The animals all come out, and there are wildflowers everywhere you look.”

While I’m fantasizing about the future summer, we hear an immense THOK! Then comes a wild thumping, frantic and quick, and Gurrek and I both jump to our feet.

Whatever that sound is, it’s close by.

“Shit,” Gurrek says as he throws on a thick cloak, hat, and gloves. Then he slides his feet into his boots while I’m still getting dressed.

When he sees that I’m pulling on my cloak, he shakes his head. “You should stay here, where it’s warm and safe.”

I frown. “Why? I have good clothes. You might need my help.”

He bites his lip, then nods and turns to venture out into the cold.

The wind immediately hits me in the face, and it’s like slivers of ice driving into my skin. I’ve never experienced anything like it as I step out and Gurrek shuts the door behind me.

“The roof!” he cries out.

I follow his eyes up to the top of the forge, where a big chunk of the roof now flaps wildly in the wind, making the terrible sound we heard. Wood tiles go flying into the onslaught of white snow.

Gurrek sprints toward the forge, but it’s too late. A third of the roof is torn right off the building, flying into the trees.

“Fuck!” he shouts. He sprints after it and I follow through the whipping snow. It’s already up to my knees, so I move much slower than Gurrek does as he chases after the escaping roof. It slams into a tree trunk, which holds it still long enough for him to grab one side.

“Sita!” he calls out to me. I trudge faster, reaching for the other end of the flapping roof. I manage to grab onto it, but without gloves on my hands, it’s thrashing so wildly in the wind that I can barely hold on.

A particularly big gust slams into us, knocking me clear off my feet. I let go, and the roof lifts into the air. Gurrek can’t hold on to it by himself, and it knocks him aside as it flies off into the woods, smacking into other tree trunks as it goes.

Gurrek curses angrily, kicking snow. “Fuck! I’m going to have to build a whole new roof!” He grabs his hat and yanks it off, then stomps it under his foot. “I’m going to have to call Naggen, and probably Lassa, and what if the whole damned forge fills up with snow? Then how am I going to light it?”

I’ve never seen him so angry. But eventually, it peters out, and he sighs deeply.

“I’m sorry, sweetling. We should head back. Nothing we can do about it now.”

As we return to the house, I look down at my useless hands.

I’m the one who let it go. This is my fault.

Once we’re safely indoors again, Gurrek adds more logs to the fire and grumbles about how much it’s going to cost to fix the roof.

“I just hope the snow doesn’t get all over my tools,” he grumps, sitting down in front of the fire. He pulls me in under his arm, but I feel stiff.

I was too small and too weak. I was pathetic and human and couldn’t help him when it counted.

An orc wife could have saved the roof.

The next day, we check on Merka to make sure her home wasn’t damaged. She’s fine, though she had to bring her goats inside.

“I will be cleaning up goat shit for days,” she grouses.

Gurrek asks Lassa and Naggen to help with re-roofing the forge, and they are happy to assist their neighbor. Gurrek lets Lassa climb up the ladder, but when I offer to go up with supplies, Gurrek adamantly refuses.

“I don’t want you to fall from such a great height,” he says, and there’s no room at all to argue.

I am useless to help fix the damage, too.

While they work on the roof, I have a delivery to make to the clan leader, Rulag. But outside his front door, I pause before I knock.

This is the first orc I met, the one who organized the trade between my village and his. Do I still resent him for it? Do I still regret that I was the one chosen to be sent here, after so much has changed?

Yes, I do. I still miss my family every day. I worry about them—especially about Van, and what kind of hard labor he has to do in my absence to make enough money to survive. I wish I could share what I have with them.

While I stand there, lost in my thoughts, the door opens and a large orc appears. Rulag has grown out his hair for the cold months, and he’s wearing a smug smile when he sees me.

“Ah, it’s the human.” He cocks his head. “What are you doing here without knocking? Spying?”

“I have a delivery for you.” Trying to recover my senses, I reach into my basket for the curious item he ordered from Gurrek. I watched as my husband made it, having never seen him create something decorative and artistic instead of utilitarian, and the quick, precise movements of his hands had fascinated me.

When I hold out the metal rose, with its curved, etched leaves and rounded petals, Rulag claps his hands with glee.

“It came out just as I’d hoped!” He snatches it from me before I can even demand payment first. Rulag spins it by the stem and lets out a whistle. “Gurrek did a marvelous job. This is even better than I imagined.” He winks at me. “How is it having a husband with such talented hands?”

Embarrassment fills my cheeks. That’s none of his business.

“That will be two hundred and fifty pence,” I say instead of answering, and Rulag bursts into laughter.

“That well, huh?” He waggles his eyebrows, holding the rose carefully out of my reach. “You’ve ridden his cock, haven’t you?”

My mouth falls open at the brazen question. I want to leave and scurry back home, but I need to collect his money for Gurrek’s time and energy.

“It will be two hundred and fifty pence ,” I repeat, hiding my clenched hands under my cloak.

Some of the amusement fades from Rulag’s face. “Don’t tell me. You haven’t.”

I didn’t realize it was possible, but my face heats even further. Though I know Gurrek is taking his time because he wants to prepare me and he wants to be sure about me, there is still a part of my tender heart that doubts whether he truly wants me, his pathetic human wife.

“That Gurrek,” Rulag growls. “I gave him a gift, and he scorns it?”

“I am not a gift,” I snap back, before I can restrain myself. “I am a person!”

He raises an eyebrow. “She has fangs.”

I am growing angrier by the moment, but I try to calm my breathing. Rulag is just trying to get under my skin.

“Please, just give me the money.” I don’t want to be here a moment longer.

Rulag’s expression falters. “Do I need to have a talk with him?” he asks, more gently. “Is Gurrek feeding you? Clothing you?”

“Yes.” I shouldn’t be answering his questions, but I don’t want him to think that Gurrek isn’t taking care of me properly. I hold up the edge of my forest green cloak. “He gave this to me.”

“There are other types of needs, too.” Rulag crosses his arms across his big chest. “Needs of the body.”

I don’t need to be hearing this from him, of all orcs.

“That is funny,” I say, and I can’t keep the bite out of my voice. “You took me from my home. Don’t act as if you care.”

He cocks his head, unperturbed by my crossness. “Your village would have starved without my generosity.”

“Your generosity ?!” I stomp a foot. “You could have simply given us enough food to live, but you demanded payment. And that payment was me !”

I’m shaking all over now, so enraged that my chest is constricting tightly around my lungs. Rulag studies me for a few quiet moments as I try to get my emotions under control again.

“Are you saying I ought to send you back?” he asks.

The question takes me completely and utterly by surprise.

He would send me back? Back home ?

“Ah, well,” Rulag says before I can answer. “Not that it’s an option with the snows as high as they are, not until the spring, at least.”

“But in the spring...?” I can’t keep the note of hope out of my voice. Gurrek had suggested that perhaps I could send a letter, but going home myself? That’s beyond what I imagined.

A grave look settles on Rulag’s face. “If you still desire to go home, I ought to let you.” He sighs. “I thought a human would be just what my village needed, but if you truly can’t carve out a life for yourself here, then I am simply keeping you prisoner.”

My head spins so fast that I worry I might fall over. He would allow me to go free as long as the mountains were passable?

Rulag frowns. “I’m sorry to see that this experiment has failed.”

Oh, I can’t let him think that.

“It hasn’t,” I interrupt quickly. “Gurrek has taken good care of me. I am a happy wife, despite the snowstorm last night.”

He snickers. “It was not pleasant to any of us.”

I clear my throat and continue. “But I want to see my family. My mother, my brother—if the snows melt, I want to go and visit them in the spring.”

Rulag’s expression grows serious. “ Visit ? You want me to take you down the mountain to visit your home, and then... bring you back?”

“Yes!”

That would be the perfect plan. I could bring Mother and Van supplies, and perhaps help them with things that need done after the winter before I returned here. All I can think is how it would feel to see Mother and Van again. All I know is how much I miss them, how much I miss my home .

Rulag laughs. “It is a long journey. I won’t deprive one of my clanspeople of their time and energy just so you can go and visit . And if you get to pass between our villages, I show the humans weakness. It is me saying that our help comes for free.” He scowls and crosses his arms. “If you go home, you go home for good. You don’t come back.”

Rulag digs through his pockets while I gape at him, then retreats into his house. When he returns, I feel unsteady on my feet.

I could go home. I could go home . But then... I would never see Gurrek again.

“Here.” Rulag holds out his hand. “The coins. My woman will be very pleased by this gift. I hope.” His face is serious as I hold out my own palm and he deposits the coins there. “It’s too bad that you chose Gurrek. He is a good orc and deserves better.”

Then, without another word, he turns around and closes the door in my face.

Wasn’t he going somewhere before? I don’t know anything anymore. Not even the ground seems real.

As I trudge home, the snow feels colder, the air more bitter. A chilly wind blows my hair about, but I left the tie to hold it back at Gurrek’s house.

Gurrek’s house . I thought the words without even realizing it. I may live there, but it’s not mine, is it?

Suddenly, everything is foreign to me. I realize just how comfortable I’ve become here—how I’ve begun to think of orcs as anything but monsters, like I used to believe. Now I think of them as my friends and neighbors. I know the names of their children.

But this is not my real home. This is not where I spent the first twenty years of my life. That’s with Van and Mother, back in the valley.

My real life. This has all just been some strange and lovely dream.

When I reach the forge, I hesitate with my hand on the doorknob. The roof has been fixed well enough for now, it looks like. Without me.

He is a good orc and deserves better .

I could go home in the spring. Perhaps that would, truly, be better for Gurrek. If it weren’t for me, he could have an orc wife. He would have someone strong, someone who could help in the middle of a snowstorm.

Eventually, I work up the courage to go inside the forge, and I find my way to the big bag under the counter where Gurrek keeps his coin. I pour in what I obtained from my deliveries, staring down at the gold, silver, and copper inside.

Look how much he has when my own family has nothing. What manner of food and clothing could they buy with even one gold coin?

“I’ve returned,” I call out.

“Welcome back,” Gurrek responds. “Any trouble?”

“No.”

Then the Thom! Thom! Thom! of his hammer continues. Instead of going to see what he needs, as I usually do, I leave the forge and head back to the house because I can’t bear to see his face while I have these thoughts in my head.

I’m betraying him just by thinking them.

When Gurrek returns that night, I have dinner made. We’re both quiet as we eat. Now that this traitorous hope has been introduced to my mind, of going home again and returning to my life with Van and Mother, I can’t seem to stop it from barreling forward. The thought is like a needle piercing my heart in a way I don’t understand. All the resentment I thought I had buried rises to the surface, clawed and full of teeth. I was forced into this life, and though I’ve done the best with it that I can, I can’t forget the truth.

Gurrek suddenly doesn’t seem the same as I watch him over the dinner table. He is strange and alien to me again. Do I really know him? Do I care for him, or have I simply adapted, and my affection for him is a product of my need to survive?

That night, Gurrek invites me to sit by the fire with him, but I tell him that I’m not feeling well and I want to retire early.

“It’s my blood week,” I explain, rubbing my belly where it would typically ache if I were. He tilts his head because my last blood week was only before we started touching more intimately, but he nods in understanding, anyway.

When I’m in my bedroom again—where I’ve spent very little time the last few weeks—I close the door firmly behind me. Then I fall into my bed, the one Gurrek had built for me, and bury my face in the furs.

Van. Mother. I see their faces so clearly in my imagination that my eyes sting. I could be with them again in just a few months.

I know I can’t tell Gurrek what Rulag offered me. He’s welcomed me into his life and clearly stated his intentions. I’d thought that’s what I wanted, to be his wife in every way.

But now that I know I could undo it... my vision has become much less clear.

When my tears do finally flow, they are mourning tears, though I don’t know what exactly it is I’m grieving.