Chapter 6
Six
Ritta wakes up, takes one sniff at me, and narrows her eyes. "You snuck out last night?"
My face flames with embarrassment. "Only to the corridor. They were waiting outside."
I've already washed in the small bathroom alcove hidden behind a wall tapestry, dressed, and brushed my hair. To say that I'm eager to meet Torren is putting it mildly—I have to restrain myself so my leg doesn't bounce as I sit and watch Ritta get ready as well.
"Did they knock?" She frowns as she passes a bone comb through her long hair. "I didn't hear anything."
I shake my head. "No, I…felt that I needed to go outside."
She deftly braids her hair and pins it up. Then she puts away her comb and turns back to me. "I don't know why I thought I could keep fated mates apart. Did they behave themselves?"
"Yes," I assure her. "We only agreed that Torren would come get me this morning, and I'll spend the afternoon with Morg."
"Only that, hmm?" Ritta lifts one delicate eyebrow. "Then why do you smell like both of them?"
"We hugged!" I flutter my hands nervously. "Nothing more."
Ritta grins at me. "I'm only teasing. You're a grown woman, you can do what you like. I'm happy for you." She nudges my shoulder. "Are you drinking your tea?"
I blink. "My tea?"
She palms her forehead in a gesture of exasperation. "Honestly, humans baffle me. Yes, the tea." She walks over to the chest, digs through it, and unearths a small pot of what must be the tea she's talking about. "Here. Drink it every morning, a teaspoon in hot water. It'll prevent you from getting pregnant unless you want that. When you run out, just ask Ivy for more. Or Taris, our herbalist."
"Oh!" I take the jar and hide it in my saddlebag. "I-I won't need it. Not yet."
The idea of talking so freely about these things—and with a woman I only met a day ago—should be strange, but Ritta sounds so matter-of-fact, I can't even be embarrassed about it. It's refreshing and much better than any talk I've ever had with my mother.
She shrugs. "But now you have it if you do."
The moment we step out into the corridor, Torren waits there. He's so tall, he seems to take up a lot of space, but it's his smile that really pulls in my attention—it makes him look younger and less severe, and I can't help but return it.
"Have fun," Ritta says from behind me.
I turn to see she's already heading in the other direction, likely going toward the great hall for breakfast.
"Can you tell Rose I'll see her for lunch?" I call after her.
She waves to say she will and disappears around the corner. I face Torren slowly, very aware all of a sudden that we're alone in the corridor. I don't know where the inhabitants of the other rooms are or if anyone even lives in them, but there's just the two of us now.
"Good morning," Torren says. "Did you sleep well?"
I swallow down my nerves. "Yes. Ritta's day bed is extremely comfortable. Did you?"
"I didn't sleep at all," Torren says with a grin. "It's not every day you meet your mate, and I couldn't wait to see you again. I went for a bath in the middle of the night, then stopped in the kitchens on my way here."
He nudges his boot against a large woven basket I didn't notice until now.
"What's this?" I ask, though now that I'm paying attention to the basket and not Torren's beautiful eyes, I can already smell freshly baked goods.
He shuffles his feet a little. "Well, I thought we might have breakfast together."
My heart melts at the bashful smile he gives me.
"Of course," I say, smiling right back. "I'd love to."
He picks up the basket and offers me his arm, and I take it, trying not to squeeze his muscles too much. I doubt he'd mind—but I don't want him to think I'm groping him. He smells incredibly nice, too, so it's all I can do not to lean into him and sniff.
But then he does just that—he stops at a crossroads in the tunnels, curls his big body around me, and gives me a warm embrace while he inhales deeply.
"I'm sorry." He releases me. "I needed to make sure that I hadn't only dreamt what happened last night."
I fight the blush heating my cheeks because I had the opportunity to notice that he was hard all over when he hugged me. "I thought you said you didn't sleep," I quip.
He lets out a low chuckle that does strange things to my insides. "Aye, sweetheart, that's true."
He takes my hand and places it back in the crook of his elbow. Now that I got the hug I didn't know I was craving, I can focus better on our surroundings. We're not heading for the great hall or the baths. Instead, the signpost at the next tunnel junction announces that we're walking toward for the main gate.
"We're going outside?" I ask.
He frowns down at me. "Would you rather stay inside?"
I shake my head quickly, not wanting to admit I'd been hoping for him to show me his room. Of course, that would have been much too soon, and too forward of me.
"There's a place not far from here," he tells me as we reach the narrow entrance hall, "where I like to go anytime I need a break from the forge."
I note the tense set of his jaw. "I heard Morg works in the forge with you."
He shoots me a quick look, then focuses on hailing one of the guardsmen who waves back, then writes something on a piece of paper, likely marking our departure from the Hill.
"Aye, Morg works at the forge," he says carefully.
My lips quirk up in a smile I try to suppress. "Is that why you need a break from time to time?"
He chuckles ruefully. "There's no keeping that from you, is there?" He runs his hand through his long black hair and sighs. "I suppose we showed you the worst of us last night in the great hall."
I think for a moment, trying to find the right words. "Not the worst, I don't think. You both thought the other was lying and trying to take something of yours."
Not that I think I belong to them in any sort of material way, but I've now seen and heard enough to know that finding a mate is extremely important to orcs.
"I don't think he's lying," Torren mutters.
I look up at him, surprised. "You don't?"
"Ah, perhaps I did, at the start," he admits. "He'd already taken my peace of mind and half my forge, so I thought, of course he'd want to steal my mate from me out of spite."
So many questions spring to mind at this confession. But I can't ask all at once, so I settle for the one that seems most pressing.
"So you really believe you're both my mates?"
His mouth twists with what might be distaste or dismay as we head down from the open main gate and turn onto a wide footpath leading away from the Hill. There's enough room for us to walk side by side, but I'm glad of my boots nonetheless—it's a cool morning here in the mountains.
Torren doesn't reply, but he doesn't contradict me either, so I try a different question.
"What will happen if I choose one of you?" I keep my voice light, even though the thought of it wrenches something inside me.
He tenses beside me, slowing his steps. "What do you mean?"
I tug him to a stop and face him, needing to see his eyes. "If I choose Morg, what will happen with you? Will you find another mate?"
I'm cruel to be asking this, I know. I could have worded it differently, to ask what would happen to Morg, but I don't want Torren to brush the question aside.
He stares at me for a long moment, clenching the handle of the picnic basket so tightly the wood creaks under pressure.
"Hey."
I place my hand on his chest, feeling much too forward, but I need to comfort him somehow. It's an instinct I can't explain, but the moment I touch Torren, some of his tension evaporates.
He blows out a long breath and closes his eyes, leaning down to press his forehead to mine. "You don't know how it feels," he rasps, "to finally meet your mate after so long—and live in the danger of having her snatched away."
I swallow thickly because I feel the raw emotion in his voice. "Then explain it to me."
His next breath touches my lips, but I don't move away. He shifts slightly and finally puts his arm around my waist, pulling me closer. I don't even think he's conscious that he's doing it.
"Orcs only get one mate," he says quietly. "We can form attachments in life before that, but within our society, that's always done with the knowledge that at any time, one of the couple might meet their mate and forget about the other immediately."
I look up, shocked. "Did you?—?"
Suddenly, an irrational wave of jealousy swamps me at the thought of some orc woman, beautiful and brave like Ritta and Sarrai, sharing Torren's life and bed. What if she's there in the Hill, angry at me because I stole away her partner?
But Torren shakes his head. "Not for a while now. There was Irrin, but she met her mate and is now very happily mated with many children. But it doesn't ever feel right, the way we all know it should with a mate."
"Oh." I clench my hand in the fabric of his tunic, unwilling to let go. I want to ask about Morg, but at the same time, I don't want to know. He's younger than Torren and so damn handsome—surely he's in high demand.
"Morg didn't have a partner either," Torren says softly.
I lean back to meet his gaze, and he gives me a slight smile, only a twitch of his lips.
"Thank you for telling me," I whisper past a suddenly tight throat. "I don't know why it should matter so much. I don't have any claim to you. I arrived at the Hill and upset your lives."
Torren takes my chin and lifts it gently. "You have every claim. I am yours, and I suspect Morg would say the same. And I'm glad you're jealous, Jasmine. That tells me you care. But know that for us, there is only you from now on."
That brings us back to the question I asked earlier, and I think Torren knows it. He sighs and steps back, straightening his shoulders.
"As for what would happen," he says, his voice low, "if you didn't choose me, I cannot say that I really know. I don't want to put this kind of pressure on you, but at the same time, you didn't grow up around orcs, so you don't know the things we know about mates."
I stare at him. "What do you mean?"
His expression is hard, more closed off than I've seen it—but I think it must be a mask to hide the emotions that flit through his dark eyes.
"I haven't heard of a mate refusing another," he tells me. "But once the mate bond snaps into place and later one of the couple dies, the other often finds a way to follow them."
"What—?" I cover my mouth with my hand. "You mean they die, too? That's horrible!"
"Not always," he hurries to say, then groans. "Gods, I'm botching this up. There are widows in the Hill, and widowers as well. But they…they don't want to be there, is all."
I turn away from him, walking farther down the path, even though I don't know where we're going. But anxious energy courses through me, and I need to move.
Torren catches up with me in several great strides. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to upset you."
"You didn't," I say quickly, though that's a lie. "Is there anything else I ought to know about fated mates?"
He falls into step with me again, jaws clenched. By his expression, I know there's more, but he's not sharing.
I stop and face him. "What is it?"
He's silent for a moment, then grumbles, "I don't want to upset you more."
I put my hands on my hips and snap, "Keeping things from me will upset me more. How can I make a good decision if I don't know all the facts, Torren?"
With a great sigh, he motions for me to continue down the path. "Come, we're nearly there. I will tell you more over breakfast, I promise."
I follow him, walking beside him but not holding on. I don't think I can touch him again in this state, because my mind is pulled in opposite directions—I want to hug him and hold on tight and also yell at him for being an impossible orc who might or might not die if I refuse him. That's not to mention Morg, who has essentially put me in the same position, pinning his hopes on me.
The only thing that keeps me from exploding in rage over the unfairness of this situation is the fact that neither of them did this willingly. Yes, they both seemed to have wanted a mate, in the general sense of the word, but I doubt they wanted me to have to make this choice.
The footpath dwindles to nothing, melding into the pine-needle-strewn forest floor, but Torren doesn't seem to need it at all. With measured steps, he leads the way between the trees until I hear a trickle of water somewhere nearby. Then we come up to the creek, a clear, bubbling stream of water that is surely too cold to bathe in this high up in the mountains. Still, I crouch on the sand beside the water and splash my hot cheeks. I need a calm mind for whatever Torren still has to tell me, yet my thoughts are as turbulent as they've ever been.
The orc wordlessly offers me his hand when we have to climb over moss-covered rocks, and he doesn't let go after. It's as if he craves the contact between us. I don't pull away from him, because I need it, too. He's solid and warm in the world where everything has been upended, from the sedate vision of my life I lost with my called-off wedding to meeting two males who claim they are fated to be mine.
The sound of the rushing water intensifies, and soon, we emerge from the trees at the side of the creek to find a rock wall rising in front of us. Water cascades over it in a beautiful, narrow stream, a waterfall right in the middle of the forest.
"It's so wonderful," I breathe.
I tug Torren's hand so he follows me right up to the deep-green pool at the bottom of the wall, so clear I can see the rocks at the bottom. I look up, and the light spray from the waterfall mists my face. I relish the sensation. This would be a wonderful place to swim in the summer, but right now, it's a serene, remote spot, perfect for a late breakfast.
I turn to the orc standing behind me, slightly mollified by the beauty of this place. "Thank you for bringing me here."
Torren nods, though the set of his shoulders tells me he's still in a poor mood. "Come." He nudges me backward gently. "We have to move a little way off or we'll be damp all over."
I follow him to a dry patch of grass and wait as he spreads out a woolen blanket and sets the basket on top of it. He motions at me to sit, then takes bread, cheese, and some plums from the basket. He produces a flask of tea and two tin plates, then slices up a cooked sausage for us with quick flicks of his hunting knife.
He waits for me to start eating, watching me closely as if this is important to him. So I take a bite of the crusty dark bread and pop a cube of cheese in my mouth, chewing appreciatively.
Only then does he settle beside me on the blanket, taking some breakfast for himself.
"Orcs only get one mate," he says suddenly as if the break in our conversation never happened.
I quirk my eyebrow at him. "But I got two."
He shakes his head from side to side. "There are exceptions. I searched the library last night when I couldn't sleep. And even with Marut's help, I could only find four other instances in all the known orc history where this happened."
He doesn't explain who Marut is, but I suppose he must be a librarian.
"So how did they deal with it back then?" I ask.
Torren scratches the back of his neck. "There was one account where two males were mated to a single woman. They fought, and one killed the other."
I cringe, remembering the brutal way Morg and Torren went at each other in the great hall yesterday.
But Torren isn't done. "The woman was so distraught by the death of her mate, she killed herself. The remaining male slowly lost all reason and ended up walking into a snowstorm." He swallows and adds in a hushed voice, "He was never seen again."
"Gods."
I shiver, wrapping my arms around me. Torren presses the flask of hot tea in my hands, and I clutch it gratefully.
"Please tell me the other stories end more favorably," I beg, glancing at him from the corner of my eye.
Torren remains silent, so I face him more fully. His face has gone a darker green, which I now know is the orcs' way of flushing.
"What is it?" I prompt.
"Well…" He tugs at the collar of his tunic, even though it's loose enough. "The other three couples—er, groups of mates…"
"Yes?"
"They all lived together," he blurts out.
He's staring at his knees, pulled up in front of him.
"Happily?" I ask, an answering blush working its way up my neck. "Without anyone dying?"
He inclines his head slowly. "As far as the records tell, that seems to be the case. There were even four sharing each other in one case, three women and one male."
Oh, now I'm definitely red in the face. I take another bite of cheese to cover my emotions, but it's tasteless now. I'm too on edge for food, so I set down my plate and dust the breadcrumbs from my skirts.
"All right," I say in an effort to regain some composure. "Is that all? About mates, I mean."
Torren looks like he's about to nod, then stops himself. "Er, no."
"Gods," I say, exasperated. "What else is there?"
He sends me a sheepish glance from under his thick black eyebrows. "Orcs can only have children with their mates."
It takes me a moment to realize what he's saying. "So if you—if you, um, with another woman…?"
I can't bring myself to speak the words, but Torren seems to know what I'm talking about.
"No," he says. "No babies would result from such a partnership."
"Oh."
I raise a trembling hand to my neck, and he follows the movement with a hungry gaze, so I drop it back in my lap. His attention remains on me, warming me from the inside out.
There's something that's eluding me in this exchange, because surely being able to have children is a good thing now that he's found me… Then it hits me.
"So if I didn't choose you," I say sharply, "you wouldn't be able to have children with anyone else?"
Torren's expression shutters, and all he gives me is a curt nod, as if he can't trust himself to speak.
I jump to my feet, agitated again. "But that's horrible!" I fling my arm out, pointing to where I think is the way to the human lands. "Humans can have children with anyone! How is this fair to orcs?"
Torren's mouth twitches in amusement despite his frown. "Are you angry on behalf of our entire race?"
"Yes!" I stomp closer and halt in front of him, hands on my hips again. "This is so unfair."
He leans toward me suddenly and captures my waist. He doesn't yank me down forcefully but nudges me lightly in his direction, leaving me enough room to twist away if I wanted to.
But I don't. Because it turns out, his touch has some magical calming properties, or at least it distracts me from my incensed thoughts enough that I can finally take a deep breath again. I lean into his touch and allow him to draw me closer, then pull me into his lap.
I'm immediately surrounded by warmth. It's amazing, especially in contrast with the cool morning air, and I can't help but lean against Torren's chest, sighing deeply.
"I'll only hold you," he says. "Never fear."
It didn't even occur to me to be afraid of him. Like last night in the corridor, I wouldn't have gone into the forest alone with Torren if I'd thought he would try to hurt me.
"I trust you," I whisper.
He shudders, and his arms tighten a little around me. "Thank you," he rasps.
We stay like that for a long while, and I listen to his steady heartbeat and the occasional sniff he makes, his nose pressed against my temple.
There's one question that has crystallized from everything he's told me. But I don't know if I can ask it yet, not with Torren and Morg being sworn enemies since before I arrived at the Hill. If they weren't, the path to our future happiness would seem so clear. I don't know how to deal with the clear distance between them—or if they'd even want to try.
But maybe for me, they would.