Chapter 4

Four

A beat of silence follows his loud challenge.

Then the younger orc surges from his seat. "What did you just say?"

"Oh, fuck," Sarrai breathes from the other side of the table.

The older orc leans right in. "She's mine, Morg. Get away from her now."

The male standing by my side, Morg, puffs up in outrage. "She's not. She's my mate. I can scent her clear as day, pears and?—"

"Honeysuckle," the other one, whose name must be Torren, supplies.

They both stare at each other, shocked, before Torren growls, "I don't give a fuck what you think. If you don't step away from her, I'll make you."

Morg lets out a nasty laugh. "I'd like to see you try."

That's when the hall explodes into chaos. Torren leaps right on the table, grabs Morg by his collar, and drags him to the side, away from me. It's a good thing, too, because Morg sends a fist flying so fast, I can barely track it with my gaze. A hit that strong might kill me if it hit me, so I cower away from them as they roll to the floor, exchanging punches and cursing at each other.

"Stop!"

Ritta and Sarrai both jump to their feet and rush at them, trying to pry them apart. Three orc males join the fray, and slowly, they manage to pull Morg and Torren to opposite sides of the table, though both are still straining for more, flinging abuse at each other.

"Will you stop, you idiots," Ritta bellows suddenly. "You're scaring your mate."

Her voice cuts through the noise, and Torren goes limp, his face turning toward me. He's bleeding from his nose, which looks as if might be broken, and he's even dirtier than before. His long hair is disheveled, his tunic torn.

Morg, on the other side, struggles against Sarrai and another male holding him. "Let me go, I will tell her it's all right. Just get him away from her."

He's disheveled, too, his lower lip split by his left tusk, his clothes even more ruffled than Torren's. Sarrai and the male don't pay him any mind and keep him restrained, the same as Ritta and two other orcs do for Torren.

"Do we need to wake Gorvor for this?" the male next to Sarrai asks. He strains to keep Morg back, the muscles in his arms flexed. "Or will you calm your fucking senses and stop fighting me?"

He seems familiar now that I can study him more closely—and after a moment, I recognize him as Uram, Rose's mate. I glance around to search for my friend, and there she is, keeping well back, probably as aware as I am that humans have no place in an orc fight.

Now that the two soot-covered males are restrained, however, she rushes forward and wraps me in a tight embrace. "Gods, Jasmine," she cries, "what are you doing here?"

I clutch her back, desperate for some support. "Um, I'll tell you everything later." I have no wish to explain my failed wedding or my decision to come here in front of so many people. "But it's so good to see you."

She releases me but grabs my upper arms, her gaze appraising me. "Are you all right?"

We hadn't been friends for long before she was forced to leave my father's inn, but she did always possess a certain uncanny ability to see through my mask.

"No," I whisper. "What on earth is going on?"

She glances over her shoulder at the gathered orcs. We've drawn a lot of attention with the commotion, of course, and curious orcs from other tables have gravitated toward us to see what the fuss is all about.

Rose clears her throat. "Well, it seems you have found yourself a mate. Or rather two, if they can really both scent you."

"I can," Torren snarls. "He's lying."

"You old ass." Morg struggles once more against Sarrai's and Uram's grip. "She smells incredible. Exactly like I thought my mate would smell."

I sniff at myself covertly and cringe. I definitely smell like I've spent the better part of my day on top of a horse. If they're scenting…was it pears and honeysuckle? I don't know much about orcs apart from what Ritta and Sarrai told me on the road here. But the reaction from Morg and Torren is much the same as Uram had when he'd first met Rose. He'd broken a man's hand to save her and later killed him and his friends, all because they'd tried to take Rose away from him.

"You two need to get a hold of yourselves," Ritta decides. "We will take Jasmine to the baths, and then she will sleep in my room for the night, because she's tired and it's late. You two will not cause more issues, and I suggest you retire to your rooms as well. Tomorrow, we will sort this out, aye? We'll get the king involved if we need to. But you will not squabble over her tonight."

I don't comment, because I think this is a very smart option, but when she looks at me for confirmation, I give her a firm nod.

"Can you hold him?" Sarrai asks Uram.

But before the other male can answer, Morg grumbles, "I'll behave. You don't need to hold me back."

On the other side, Torren promises the same, and both males are let go. Torren rolls his neck, then takes his nose between his palms and snaps it into place with an audible crunch. I wince at the thought of his pain, even though he doesn't make a sound.

He doesn't move, but he regards me with clear want—and anguish. I don't know how strongly he feels about this mate thing, but it seems to be affecting him quite a bit. I'm not sure I like it if it turns orcs into madmen.

"I will see you tomorrow," he promises me, his voice low. "Sleep well, Jasmine."

The sound of my name has me shivering. What is this? And how does he even know my name? Then I remember Ritta mentioned it when she decided what to do with us all.

"Jasmine." Morg's voice sounds dreamy. "That's a beautiful name."

"Oh gods." Sarrai takes me by my arm and tugs me toward the tunnel leading to the baths. "If I ever find my mate, I hope I don't turn into a simpering idiot like these two."

With that, we round the corner, and the two orc males disappear from view. My stomach swoops uncomfortably, and I stumble a little. Sarrai's grip keeps me walking forward. Behind us, Rose and Ritta hurry down the corridor as well, their footsteps scuffing lightly.

"You're not going back there tonight," Sarrai says suddenly, her grip tensing.

I blink at her. "What?"

That's how I realize I've almost stopped and she's all but dragging me along.

"You have to give them time to process this." Rose loops her arm though my free one.

I purse my lips. "Is that what you did with Uram?"

She blushes, her pretty face turning pink. "Uh, not exactly. But our situation was different. He, ah, needed to keep me warm overnight, which is the only reason I allowed him anywhere near me."

Ritta snickers from behind us. "Oh, of course."

Rose sends her a dirty glare, but she's grinning. "All right, so maybe it wasn't all for survival's sake. But you don't need to make that decision tonight, Jasmine. Like Ritta said, we'll get you settled for the night and you can have a good rest."

We turn a corner, and another small signpost appears, pointing us toward the baths.

"We had these installed after Ivy got lost one too many times," Rose tells me, "and landed herself in the dungeons."

"There are dungeons?"

The great hall looked so inviting, it's hard to imagine this place could hold a prison at the same time.

"Don't worry," Ritta says. "We never use them."

"Almost never," Sarrai mutters.

They're not doing a good job of comforting me, and I think they know it. The women speed up, marching down the corridors at a fast clip. I don't notice the air getting warmer until a bead of sweat runs down my forehead, and I have to pull my arm from Rose's grip to swipe it away.

"What is this place?" I ask, breathing in the humid air.

"We're nearly there," Rose says. "Then you'll be able to relax."

I want to protest that this is no time for relaxation—I've somehow managed to upend the order in the Hill within an hour of my arrival. I'm worried that the king will decide I'm more trouble than I'm worth and toss me out on my ear.

Before I can say anything, the narrow, humid corridor dumps us into another chamber, only this one is completely different from the great hall. The ceiling is much lower, for one, but it's the quality of the air that's the most startling. A low mist covers the floor, so thick I can barely see through it. Voices echo from it, proving that we're not the only visitors here.

"Welcome to the baths," Sarrai says, satisfaction clear in her voice.

From a rack of shelves by the wall, she picks up two bathing sheets and thrusts one at me. Then she strides right into the fog, which swallows her completely within a couple of steps.

"Come on." Rose nudges me. "If we don't follow her, we'll have to check every pool to find her."

I step into the fog carefully, but when I'm inside it, I find I can see several feet in each direction, so I'm not in danger of stumbling or falling over. Sarrai's tall form is barely visible in front of me. She cuts through the room, but I'm able to follow her. We pass a pool on the left, filled with water to the brim, and I realize what this place really is.

"Is the water hot?" I turn around to speak to Rose.

She's just an outline behind me as she answers, "Yes. It's perfect, you'll see."

Now I follow Sarrai more quickly, eager for a hot bath. The orcs have a hot spring sitting right in the middle of their underground palace. It's no wonder all the corridors are so warm and dry. They must have figured out a way to pump the hot water throughout the entire Hill. Of course, if they didn't, the great hall would be nothing but a dank cave, and none of the rooms underground would be livable without burning fires—which would cause everyone to choke without proper ventilation.

Sarrai stops by another empty pool. It's not large—but the steam wafting off the surface of the water is so inviting, I can't resist crouching by the edge and plunging my hand in. It's the perfect temperature, maybe slightly warmer than I usually prepare my bath, but that's only because I was always too impatient to get in to heat another pot of water over the kitchen fire.

I look up at the women clustered by the edge. "Now I understand why you were all so eager to get here."

Ritta snorts. "Wait till you get in."

She shrugs off her jacket, folds it nicely, and places it by the pool. Then she toes off her boots and unlaces her leather pants.

"Oh!" I swiftly turn around, wanting to give her privacy, only to be faced with Sarrai, who is removing her tunic. She only has an undershirt beneath it, no stays, and I gape at her ample breasts for a moment before closing my eyes in embarrassment.

A gentle hand lands on my shoulder. "It's all right," Rose says quietly. "Orcs aren't as concerned about nakedness as humans are. You'll, ah, get used to it after a while."

I crack my eyes open to find my friend already stripped down to her undershirt, her gown hanging over her arm.

"Gods, Rose," I croak. "You could have warned me."

She gives me a wry smile. "I know everything seems impossibly strange tonight, but I promise you, it'll be easier tomorrow."

With that, she puts down her dress, pulls her undershirt over her head, and slips in the water quickly, her movements nimble. The two orc women do the same, and neither of them seem to be worried about their bodies at all.

I remain alone on the lip of the pool, my arms crossed tight over my chest. Rose, Sarrai, and Ritta strike up a low conversation while they pass around a bar of hard soap, and I get the distinct impression that they're giving me time to come to grips with this strange situation.

Perhaps I could just wash quickly with my clothes still on? Or strip down to my undershirt and bathe in it in an effort to preserve some of my modesty? But I feel filthy after a day on the road, and a wet linen undershirt wouldn't do much to hide me. Besides, I don't want to get my stays wet, because they'll be impossible to dry afterward.

Heat rises up my neck as I tug on the laces on the back of my dress. It's made so I can get myself in and out of it without needing a maid, because we couldn't keep a maid just to help me dress at my father's house. My wedding gown had been an exception—but I don't want to spend another moment thinking of it. Instead, I focus on the task at hand. When the fabric loosens, I slide down the sleeves and shimmy out of my riding gown. Then, working quickly, I remove my boots and stockings and finally draw my undershirt over my head.

I don't look to the sides to see if anyone's watching. Voices murmur in the mist, but none are close enough to worry me, and I do believe Rose would warn me if any stranger was too close for comfort.

It's incredible to me that Sarrai and Ritta don't seem like strangers anymore, and I don't feel too indecent slipping into the hot pool beside them. Rose grins at me and passes me the soap, which is scented with sage and chamomile. The water is incredible. It envelops my body like a cozy embrace, instantly setting me at ease. Some of my tension washes away, and I close my eyes with a sigh.

"Hey," Sarrai says, nudging me in the shoulder. "No sleeping in the pool. Morg and Torren would murder us if you drowned."

"Morg and Torren," I repeat quietly. "You really think they're both my mates?"

Ritta inclines her head. "Aye. And you won't have an easy time with them either."