Chapter 2

Two

In the gray pre-dawn light, I stop my mare at the crossroads not far from the village. It's where the main road leading to our small hamlet joins the much larger one that runs the length of the duchy, north to south. If I head south here, I'll be able to ride all the way to Ultrup, the capital, and try my luck at finding a husband there. I've never been afflicted with false modesty—my mother saw to that every day of my childhood when she brushed out my long, pale-yellow hair and repeated to me that I was beautiful enough to catch a prince if I wanted to.

And yet my parents never traveled to the south with me to find me a nobleman to marry—not after my brother was born and their attention turned to raising him. I hadn't been forgotten, and they never neglected me, but they stopped talking about their big dreams for me and instead taught me to settle for what was good enough.

I tighten my grip on the reins. Then I nudge the mare north, in the direction of the border with the orc kingdom. I take one glance back toward the village and hope they won't be able to know which way I went. The road is dry enough after the good autumn weather we've had, and everyone in their right mind would assume I'd left for Ultrup, not the orc lands.

I might not be in my right mind, then, because I dig my heels gently in the mare's flanks and leave the village behind. She doesn't doubt my decision, which is good. At least one of us should be convinced that this is a good idea. I know I might come to regret this because one should never trust decisions made in the dead of the night, and yet the flame in my chest burns brighter at the thought of finding myself an orc husband.

The road leads me into the forest soon after the crossroads, the maple trees preening with their gorgeous fall colors. My breaths steam in the early morning air, and though it's not quite cold enough yet for the first frost, I know it's coming soon. The fresh mountain air isn't much different from what I'm used to from the village—with the notable exception of the whiff of pigs that our neighbor, Sal, breeds right where everyone can smell them—and yet my lungs expand easier here.

Is it the knowledge that I'm finally free? Or the hope of a better future?

In any case, I'm happy enough I could sing, and I even hum a little tune to myself as the road starts to climb. I don't know exactly how far it is to the main orc settlement, or if I'll come upon smaller orc villages before I reach this Hill where the king lives with his court. Because that's where I'm heading—to the fabled underground palace where all the orc warriors live.

That is, until I realize the forest has gone eerily quiet around me. I stop humming and slow the mare's pace so the crunching of gravel beneath her hooves doesn't interfere with my hearing.

It's quiet. Too quiet for comfort, as if even the wind is holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

I thought I'd be safe in these woods. I don't know why, because all the stories I'd heard in my childhood had painted the orcs as dangerous, brutish warriors eager to spill blood and steal maidens from their beds. But my friends wrote to me about how kind their king was, how loving their mates were, and I believed every word of it.

A shadow moves in the very corner of my eye, and I whip my head to the right, trying to see what it was. There's nothing there—just the silent tree trunks and the pine-needle-strewn forest floor. Another bit of movement on my other side, but it's only a leaf gently floating to earth.

Frightened, I nudge the mare into a faster trot. Hadn't Ivy said something about wolves? She'd disappeared from the village one day, and though there had been some commotion about it, my father never told me the whole story. Flat-out refused. But when I wrote to her, she responded, and we've been keeping up our correspondence for several months now.

I'd heard the wolves howling in the winter sometimes, and yet it hadn't even occurred to me that I might encounter them here. The farther I ride, the more foolish I feel. I hadn't had a very good idea of how things would go, but I'd thought that orcs might have patrols on their lands. I'd expected a garrison along the road, perhaps, or a village where I could rest for the night. It's not even midday yet, but I'm already worried about where I'll sleep tonight if the road to the Hill takes more than a day's ride.

I should have written to Ivy or Rose before I grabbed all my possessions, stuffed them into a pair of saddlebags, and stole away before dawn like a thief. Now that I have the time to think about it, I should have done a lot differently. The elation at being alone that I felt this morning wanes with every passing moment, and I dearly wish I had someone with me—to guard me, yes, and also to keep me company.

I continue at the faster pace until my poor mare's sides heave from having to carry me uphill. At the next stream we pass, I slow her down and bring her to a stop in front of a neatly constructed wooden bridge that spans the bed. The mare drinks the clear water greedily. Afterward, I lead her to a patch of grass not far from the road and let her graze for a bit while I sit on a fallen log beside her and crunch down on an apple.

My legs hurt from being in the saddle all day, and I'll be sore tomorrow. I'm used to riding only short distances, as is the horse, really, so we're both tired and more than a little winded.

"What have I gotten myself into?" I mutter between bites of apple.

"That's a fantastic question," a voice says from behind my back.

I jump from the log and spin around so fast my feet get tangled in my riding skirts. My half-eaten apple falls from my hand, rolling on the ground. I stumble to the side, bump into a tall tree trunk, and finally find my balance by clutching the rough bark with both hands.

Two orc women are staring at me from a distance of about twenty feet, their stances identical, with arms crossed over their chests. They're tall, both topping six feet, and dressed in a combination of fitted leather pants, linen tunics, and fur-lined jackets. The one on the left has a hunting bow strapped to her back, and her hair is tied in a beautiful, long braid, while the other has a short sword at her hip, her black hair braided in a crown around her head.

They're not the first orcs I've seen, but definitely the first women. Their skin is just as green as their male counterparts', though, and they're attractive despite the small white tusks sticking up from their bottom lips.

"I told you she wasn't dangerous," the one with the crown braid says to the other.

The second one sheathes the long hunting knife she'd been holding. "You've met Hazel. She also looks small and weak, but she's a better warrior than many of our clan."

"H-hello," I stutter.

They lift their dark eyebrows in unison.

"Hello," says the one with the bow. "Are you lost? Do you need help returning to the human lands? Because you're going in the wrong direction."

Her companion leans close to whisper, "Do you think she's all right? I know humans are pale, but this one looks like she might faint at any moment."

From their demeanor, I don't think they mean to hurt me, so I allow myself to sit back on the log because my legs are shaking too much to remain standing. They keep staring at me for a long moment, then come to sit cross-legged on the forest floor opposite me, as if we were gathered around a campfire. They sniff in my direction, but neither of them reacts beyond a slight expression of disappointment, whatever that means.

"I'm not lost," I say. "I'm heading toward the Black Bear Hill. My name's Jasmine."

"Ritta," says the one with the sword, then points at her friend, "and this is Sarrai. Any particular reason why you're riding alone through the forest? Bears live here, did you know?"

I whip my head around to peer into the forest, half expecting a big bear to wander out of the bushes anytime now.

Sarrai slaps her arm with the back of her hand. "Stop scaring her. She's gone pale again."

"I'm sorry," Ritta says. "No bears around here at the moment."

"Oh." I let myself relax a tiny bit. "That's good to hear."

I remember my fallen apple and gaze at it sadly. It's covered in dirt and needles, so I leave it for the forest creatures and dig through my bag for another. Then I remember my manners and offer some to the orc women, who take the apples without a word, watching me carefully. I bring out some biscuits, too, and pass them around, all remnants of my misbegotten wedding feast that I raided in the early hours of the morning before the kitchen maids woke up.

"Thank you," Ritta says, chewing appreciatively. "These are good."

I don't tell her I was supposed to have eaten these as part of the first breakfast I ever shared with my husband, because the thought is just too morose for my taste.

"If you're not lost," Sarrai says slowly, "what are you doing here? Are you visiting someone at the Hill?"

I think of how to answer for a moment. "Well, yes. My friends, Rose and Ivy, have recently joined the clan, as far as I know."

This brings a smile to Ritta's face. "Ah, all right. Yes, they're at the Hill currently." Then her gaze sharpens, and she asks, "Do they know you're coming? Because we would have sent out a guard to make sure you arrived safely. We do patrol the roads, which is how we found you today, but you should have written ahead."

I tug at the end of my braid. "Oh, I know. But coming here was a rather spontaneous decision, and I didn't have the time. I thought I'd just ride up to your gates and ring the bell, you know?"

The two orc women exchange a glance that tells me they think I might be a little simple-minded. And by what I've told them so far, I can't blame them for that at all.

But I'm not. Simple-minded, that is. Nor am I too blind to see that this plan of mine might turn into a catastrophe if I fail. If the orcs won't accept me and let me stay at the Hill in exchange for working for them, I'll have to slink back to the human lands with my tail between my legs and hope my reputation isn't irreparably ruined.

"I'm trying to find a husband," I blurt out, then regret it almost instantly.

They both stare at me in silence, and I squirm on the log, feeling both foolish and unaccountably stubborn at the same time.

"It's just—I heard from my friends that their husbands are wonderful," I explain. "And I'd like a chance to find my own."

"Gods," Sarrai says, leaning back on her arms. "Are we to receive every unmarried woman in the country?"

Ritta snorts. "Has word of the orcs' prowess in bed finally made its way to whatever little village you hail from?"

"What?" Heat slams into my cheeks, and I know I'm blushing furiously. "No! My-my friends said their mates were kind. That they treated them well and that they'd never leave them."

My voice gets quieter with each word, until at last I fall silent, embarrassment coursing through me. I knew that I'd have to explain myself at some point, because how else would I gain access to the Hill? But I have to admit these two women are a strange sort of a welcoming party.

"Well," Ritta says thoughtfully, "that's actually a much better reason than I expected."

Sarrai hums in agreement. "Still doesn't mean it's smart to be wandering around alone in the forest without so much as a bow to defend yourself."

With a graceful leap, she hops to her feet and offers a hand to Ritta. Then she inclines her head toward my horse.

"Come on, then," she says. "Let's get you back on the road."

I scramble after them and untie the reins from the branch. "How long before I get there?"

Ritta shoulders a large traveling pack. "We'll be there after nightfall. If we hadn't found you, you would have had to stay in the forest overnight, because the road gets a bit treacherous in places."

"Wait, you're escorting me?" My face flames again. "That's?—"

I want to say it's unnecessary, but wasn't I frightened of the forest just earlier? It won't get any better when night creeps up on me.

"That's lovely, thank you," I force out instead.

I don't know whether arriving at the Hill accompanied by two orc scouts will make my arrival any less strange, but maybe being accepted by these women is a good sign.

We start out on foot, with me leading the horse beside me, but soon enough, it becomes apparent that I'm just no match for the orcs' loping stride. Sarrai gently suggests I should get up on my mare. I climb in the saddle despite my aching muscles and sigh in relief. From then on, we proceed much more quickly, and I realize that they'd been holding back on me.

We stop once more to let the animal rest, so I hand out more of the biscuits and receive a strip of well-cured dried meat in return. I chew on it, looking from Sarrai to Ritta and back. They're both incredibly beautiful, with large dark eyes and full lips, but surprisingly delicate eyebrows and ears. Sarrai's are pierced with several gold hoops that jingle lightly whenever she turns her head.

"Ask away, human," Ritta says, her lips twisting in a wry smile.

"Huh?" I blink, aware I'd been caught staring at them. "Oh. It's just… Why would the orcs from your clan pick human women if they have, well, you?"

Ritta bursts out laughing, and Sarrai grins, her white teeth flashing.

She steps toward me and gently takes my chin in her hand. "I asked myself the same at first, but there's a certain… Ah, I don't know, a certain appeal to you, I'll admit. You're very pretty." She lets go of my chin and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "Unfortunately, you smell all wrong to me."

"Oh!" I take a step back, sniffing at my clothes. "I'm so sorry. I've been on the horse all day?—"

"No, no," she hurries to say. "I meant, you're not my mate, much as I would like it. I'd know if you were."

Ritta shoves her hands in the pockets of her jacket. "I prefer men, but you're not mine either."

I purse my lips, thinking. "So when Uram picked Rose to be his mate at my father's inn…" I muse, "he didn't choose her for himself? He just knew?"

"Exactly," Sarrai says a bit sadly.

"That's not what I imagined," I murmur, brushing crumbs from the front of my dress.

Ritta lifts one eyebrow in a mocking expression. "Did you think you'd march right into the Hill and have your pick of all the available bachelors?"

"From what you're saying, I imagine that won't be the case," I reply a touch testily.

Sarrai studies me for a moment, then asks, "What sent you running all the way here?"

I glance down at my riding boots. I could lie by omission and say I only wanted to meet my friends and find myself a husband, but these two have been kind to me in a way I hadn't expected since I told them I've come to essentially steal away one of their clansmen.

Finally, I swallow the lump that has become lodged in my throat, and admit, "It was my wedding day yesterday."

Ritta balks at this. "You're married and want an orc husband? I don't think?—"

"My groom never showed," I say loudly enough to cut through her words. "So, er, I'm not married, no."

"Oh." Sarrai steps forward and wraps me in a tight embrace. "I'm sorry to hear that. It must have been so hard for you."

My surprise at being hugged by a stranger only lasts a moment. Then I put my arms around Sarrai's waist and squeeze back, because it feels nice, being comforted. It's then that I realize that my mother never hugged me after the entire debacle with Ansel and the nonexistent wedding. She'd fussed and patted my shoulder, but I missed being hugged like this.

When I let go, my eyes are damp with tears, so I dash them away with the back of my hand.

"Thank you," I choke out. "I needed that."

"Oh gods, stop," Ritta groans. "You'll make me cry, too."

She sniffs, and I laugh suddenly, because this is unlike anything I expected from my mad venture into the orc lands.

"Sorry." I grin. "I'm all done with the tears."

"Good," she grumbles. "Now let's get you back on that horse so we can get to the Hill. I'm dying for a hot bath."