Chapter 12

Chapter

Twelve

I meant to visit the baths the morning after on the off chance that Owen took our joking seriously and would be waiting for me there, but a pounding from the hallway disrupts that plan. I open the door to find Vark standing there, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Gorvor needs you,” he says without a greeting. “Said to hurry. He’s calling all of us in.”

I squint at him. “Before breakfast? What’s wrong?”

Vark grins at me. “It’s way past breakfast, Mara. Were you up late last night? And does that have anything to do with a certain human captain who’s been seen trailing you around the Hill? Is he hiding in your room, perhaps?”

He cranes his neck to peer around me.

“Ugh, no!” I slam the door in his smug face, then yell so he’ll be able to hear me, “I need a moment! Will you wait for me?”

“Aye,” he calls back.

So I hurry through my morning ritual of brushing and braiding my hair, then wash with cold water that has me cursing softly. I can’t believe I slept through breakfast. I must have been more tired than I knew, both from lack of sleep and from the exhausting talk I had with Owen last night. I’d hoped to speak with him and see if he could take some time for me.

But it seems that even confiding half of what I need to tell him has lessened the burden on me to the point that I was finally able to rest—and my body has taken full advantage.

I frown at my image in the looking glass, then try out the words I’ve been holding back. “You’re my mate, Owen.”

They sound… right . Strange but true.

Still, I don’t have the time to practice my confession, so I grab my shawl and satchel and run out the door to rejoin Vark.

“Do you know what’s going on?” I ask as we march down the corridor at a quick pace. “Who else has he called?”

Vark nods to a family of five passing us on their way from the great hall. “It has something to do with Ozork, only I’m not sure what. They’ve met this week to talk privately, but I think it’s all coming to a head today.”

“What is?” I question, curiosity spiking. If Ozork is involved, Lady Willow might be, too.

But Vark presses his lips together, frowning, and I realize he hasn’t been informed either—which must be jarring, given how close he is with both Gorvor and Ozork.

Before long, we arrive in the private hallway leading to the king’s chambers. We’ve kept it well-lit ever since Dawn arrived at the Hill, and it’s brightly illuminated now. Steagor is waiting at the door to the king’s private parlor, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Does anyone know what this is about?” he rumbles. “I don’t like leaving Poppy alone if it’s not necessary.”

I grin at him. “Where is she now?”

“Escorting Willow around the Hill because Ozork has urgent business with the king.” He frowns. “Which seems to be our business, too.”

The door to the king’s rooms suddenly yawns open and reveals my scowling cousin. “If you lot are done grumbling and gossiping, I’d like to ask you to come in and help us with this.”

Vark saunters over the threshold first. “We’d love to, but we don’t know what this is.”

“Aye,” Steagor says. “You’ve been keeping things from us.”

I give Gorvor a quick hug, then close the door behind me. “My only complaint is that I haven’t had time to eat breakfast, but otherwise, I’m simply curious about why you need all of us here.”

Dawn appears from behind her mate’s back, motioning at me. “Here, we have some bread and hard-boiled eggs. I’ve been trying to get Arvel to eat eggs, but he’s not too happy about it. And there’s some tea, too. It should be hot enough, I think.”

I let out a sigh of relief and settle at Gorvor’s desk, across from his larger chair. I pour myself a cup of tea and snag an egg and a piece of bread, and suddenly, my morning is looking up. I’m still a little miffed I didn’t get to see Owen at the baths, but that’s my own fault for sleeping in so late.

“Where is Arvel?” I check under the desk for Dawn and Gorvor’s son.

Dawn lets out a shuddering sigh. “At school. He’s visited a couple of times, and he’s doing so well with the other children, but it’s hard to let him go every morning.”

Her eyes well with tears, and I grimace at Gorvor, already feeling guilty that I brought up the prince. I should have realized Dawn would be having a difficult time—every parent does when it’s time for their child to go to school, even if it’s for an hour or two a day at first.

Gorvor sweeps Dawn off her feet and settles in his big chair behind his desk with her in his lap.

She sniffles and dabs at her eyes with a handkerchief, then lets out a shuddering sigh. “I’ll be fine. It was easier when Ozork and Willow took him there. We might have to do that in the future so I’m not the one carrying him through the door.”

“Whatever you wish.” Gorvor brushes his lips over her forehead. Then he turns to Vark and Steagor, who have stopped behind me. “Sit, please.”

The two warriors bring up chairs, and we end up in a loose half-circle, staring curiously at the king. He’s not wearing his crown today, and I think the choice is deliberate—he’s our friend and relative, first, and our king second. It’s always been this way, ever since we arrived at the Hill. If he needed personal counsel, he called us together, but usually, Ozork was here with us.

“Where’s Ozork, then?” Steagor asks, clearly sharing my thoughts.

Gorvor clears his throat. “He’s visiting Torren at the forge, which we’ll talk about later. But I called you here to tell you that Ozork came to me to ask for help, and I’ve decided to grant his wish—I only need your agreement.”

I lift my eyebrows. “Why ours? You usually put things to a vote for the entire clan if it’s an issue that concerns us all, or you decide on your own.”

Gorvor’s lips twitch up in a ghost of a smile. “True enough. But I believe this one concerns the three of you, specifically. Or it concerns you more than others.”

Vark leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Out with it, then. I don’t like this suspense.”

“Aye, it sounds very ominous.” Steagor’s eyes glint with humor. “It’s making me imagine all the worst outcomes.”

“Gods, why do I even put up with you lot?” Gorvor rubs at his eyes, then grins up at us. “Well, then. Ozork is wooing Lady Willow, the Duke of Ultrup’s niece. She’s his mate, and I believe they’ve, ah, taken certain steps in their relationship.”

“Gorvor!” Dawn smacks his arm in outrage. “You can’t say things like that!”

“Oh, come off it,” Vark cuts in. “Like you were any different? I have ears, you know, and was stationed right outside your door.”

Dawn’s cheeks turn a violent shade of pink, but before she can snipe back at Vark, Gorvor lets out a rumbling growl, cutting off any argument.

“Enough. We’re all adults here, and we know what a mating does to an orc. I’m happy for Ozork and his Willow, and I hope she will decide that our clan is better than her human court.” Gorvor looks from Vark to Steagor, then settles his gaze on me. “But Lady Willow’s dowry, which is controlled by her uncle, is tied up in such a way that she must marry a nobleman in order to claim it.”

I frown, repeating his words in my head. “Her dowry?”

“Aye. Her parents were rich, but that inheritance didn’t pass on to her because her mother wasn’t of noble blood, so the fortune returned to the duchy,” Gorvor explains. “And her uncle drew up a contract that set the strange condition. If she chooses to marry a commoner, she won’t see even a copper of it.”

“That’s outrageous,” I blurt, straightening my spine. “Why would he do that?”

“To control her,” Steagor growls. He leans his elbows on his knees and adds, “This means that she’ll get nothing if she remains with Ozork?”

Gorvor inclines his head. “What’s worse, the duke will keep all that money. From what Willow told Ozork, it’s not an insignificant sum.”

I purse my lips, thinking this through. “Ozork doesn’t need the dowry, he’s wealthy enough for the both of them, but Willow doesn’t know that yet, does she?” I hold up a finger. “Nor should she have to give up a great lump of gold just because Ozork doesn’t have a title.”

“Exactly.” Gorvor hugs Dawn closer to his chest. “Which is why I’ve agreed to his plan.”

Vark lifts the eyebrow above his missing eye. “And the plan is…?”

“To make Ozork a duke,” the king announces. “The first Duke of the Black Bear Clan.”

I stare at him for a moment, shocked, then grin. “That’s brilliant! Willow can marry him then, and the duke will have to honor the contract.”

Dawn lets out a sound of disapproval, and when we all turn to her, she flutters her hands in agitation. “I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but the duke might still go back on his word. It wouldn’t be the first time he did something unsavory.”

Gorvor puts his arms around her, holding her close. “That’s true. But then we’ll know for sure he holds a grudge against our clan. So far, he hasn’t moved against us directly, but if he refuses to acknowledge Ozork as equal in status to any of his own noblemen, we’ll have our answer.”

I think of what Owen told me—that Willow has come here to spy on the clan. I don’t know whether she’s gone through with her plan, so I won’t say anything yet, not in front of the others, but I’ll have to speak to Gorvor soon. As long as the entire human delegation is staying at the Hill, there’s little danger of any information getting out, especially in this weather. Once Owen sends half or more of his soldiers back to Ultrup, however, we might have to be more careful.

The thought reminds me of my discussion with Owen, too. He’s human, but when he’d said he wasn’t bothered by the fact that I have more money than him, I believed him. In time, I hope I’ll be able to show him why, exactly, we’ll never have to worry about money again.

“Mara?” Gorvor says my name, his voice a touch louder than before.

“Hmm?” I glance from him to Vark and Steagor and realize they’re all staring at me, including the queen. “I’m sorry, my mind wandered.”

“Anywhere in particular?” Steagor asks, his grin sly.

I glower at him, then realize that they’ve likely all heard the news by now. Gorvor and Dawn were there on that fateful day when I first saw Owen, Steagor knows because I confided in him and Poppy, and Vark must have somehow figured out the truth from the rumors circulating around the Hill. Orcs can be terrible gossips, I’ve known that for years.

“Aye, Captain Hawke is my mate,” I confirm. The words slip easily off my tongue, perhaps because I’d practiced them in front of the mirror this morning. Or maybe it’s just that I’ve finally accepted the fact and am no longer trying to deny it.

Dawn clasps her hands in her lap. “That’s so lovely. But, ah, forgive me, is something wrong? You don’t seem as enthusiastic as I’d hoped after seeing your reaction to him all those weeks ago.”

I glance at Steagor, who knows part of the reason why I’ve been hesitant about this.

He reaches out and pats my shoulder, his large palm heavy. “They need to know, Mara. We’re here to help, you know that.”

Gorvor is frowning at me. “What’s the matter? Is it the captain? Say the word, cousin, and I’ll have him exiled from the land.”

“Funny,” Vark comments. “My first suggestion would be to tie him up and throw him in a dungeon for a day or two so he comes to his senses.”

“No,” I yelp, a touch too loudly. “No one will be exiling Owen—or tying him up.”

The king’s eyebrows climb up. “All right then, he’s yours to deal with however you like.”

His words add fuel to that small flame of hope that’s been growing steadily for days now. I need to tell Owen everything , but first, I owe these people—my closest family—the truth. I’ve been hiding it for so long, but now that I’ve confided in Steagor and Poppy, then Owen, the story should be less painful to revisit.

At Steagor’s encouraging nod, I launch into my tale, beginning right where I did with Owen. Steagor might think he knows the full truth, but he doesn’t, and he hangs on my every word, the same as Vark, Gorvor, and Dawn. I keep the story short, though, because they—with the exception of Dawn—lived at the palace, and they know about my parents.

By the time I’m done, Dawn’s big hazel eyes are shiny with tears, and Gorvor is staring at me, clearly aghast. Vark stands and paces away from me, then back again, his long legs carrying him this way and that around the room.

“How did I not notice?” Gorvor’s voice comes out hoarse, barely audible. “Mara, I’m so sorry. I should have done more. I should have helped you with your mother before it was too late.”

I release a long, shaking breath. “It wasn’t on you, Gorvor. You were dealing with other things back then, important things that ended up saving half our clan, remember? You were trying to prevent your godsdamned father from ruining everyone.”

“Still.” He shakes his head. “I had no idea you’d become so afraid of the outside world. And this is why you haven’t told Owen he’s your mate yet? You’re afraid he won’t like that and might leave you here?”

“Aye.”

Vark stomps closer, takes my hand, and pulls me to my feet. “I’m sorry, too, for my part. You were always a friend to me and to my Hazel, and I haven’t been paying enough attention.” He wraps me in a tight hug. “If you ever want to revisit that idea I had earlier, let me know.”

I pat him on the back. “Thank you, but I don’t think it’ll be necessary. He’s a good man, you know.”

“I’d love to have you both over for dinner,” Dawn says. “Once you’ve, ah, settled in a bit.”

Gorvor is still staring at me, his expression grave. “Would you like help? In going outside again, I mean.”

My first impulse is to deny him. My muscles lock up at the thought of having to step under the open sky again. But I also want to see what Owen’s life is like outside of these earthen walls. It hardly seems fair that he should completely leave his family and profession just to stay here with me. Besides, he’s human—he needs the sunlight, as the human women of the clan have explained to us.

“I might,” I hedge finally. “But I do need to talk to Owen first.”

“Of course.” Dawn pats her mate’s cheek as if to calm him. “We’ll let you take things at your own pace. But we’re here if you need us.”

“We all are,” Steagor adds.

I pour myself another cup of tea and settle back in my chair. “That’s all I have to share. Forgive me for taking over our meeting about Ozork.”

Vark sits again and frowns at Gorvor. “Where is he? I thought he’d be here, given that this concerns him.”

Gorvor sends me one last thoughtful look, then lets out a sigh. “Aye, he thought differently. He said you all needed an opportunity to reject his proposal without him being in the room. So I sent him off to Torren’s to commission himself a seal worthy of a duke.”

“Why would we reject the idea?” Steagor asks, his dark eyebrows drawing together. “It’s a good one, and it solves his problem.”

Dawn smiles softly at the king. “See? I told you both they’d be delighted.” She gets up from his lap, dusts off her skirts, takes the chair next to Gorvor, and pulls a ledger closer to her on the desk. “Now, we should plan?—”

“A moment, please.” Gorvor places his hand gently on top of hers to stop her. “They need to choose for themselves.”

Choose what?

I glance at Vark, but he seems just as confused. Steagor leans back, crossing his massive arms over his chest, waiting for the king’s explanation.

“Besides Ozork, the three of you have been my closest friends over the years,” Gorvor begins. “My family, when the rest of my blood turned their backs on me. My counselors, my support.”

I hadn’t thought of it that way. But Gorvor had lost his family, too, maybe even before we left the old kingdom. His father had abused and nearly killed him, his mother refused to even speak to him, and his younger brother…

Well, Charan might have changed his tune in the recent years, especially since his cronies had been the source of the attack on Dawn when she first arrived at the Hill, but that doesn’t mean they’ve suddenly become close again.

Gorvor grips Dawn’s hand tighter, and she shuffles her chair closer to his, no doubt feeling his distress. Something warm blooms in my chest at the sight of them. She has become his family—and gave him a son they both love dearly.

My cousin sends his mate a grateful look, then continues, “Vark, you’ve fought beside me and took a knife to protect my queen. Steagor, you’ve guarded me through thick and thin and offered me your wisdom whenever I needed it.” He pauses, then faces me. “And Mara, you’ve made our Hill a home , you’ve taken care of all my people when I was too busy elsewhere and allowed me to spend time with my son.”

Dawn looks at me, too, her eyes shiny with tears. “And you’ve been a friendto me, to Poppy and Hazel, and everyone else who needed it. You’ve made me feel welcome here from the first day I arrived.”

“That’s…” I swallow, my throat too tight, then try again. “I’m glad I helped.”

“You did more than that,” Gorvor declares. “And you deserve happiness. But that’s something you will have to figure out on your own, as you said. What I’m proposing is that you three should receive titles, too.”

A beat of silence follows Gorvor’s words. Steagor glances at me, eyebrows raised, and Vark clears his throat, visibly uncomfortable.

I, for one, am already shaking my head. “I don’t need a title. That’s not… I mean, I’m honored, don’t get me wrong, but I’d rather not.”

I don’t know what having a title would entail, but I don’t want my life to change. I’m perfectly happy being the steward of the Hill and receiving a salary that allows me all the comforts I need.

Gorvor frowns at me. “In the old kingdom, we had nobility. Your father was the king’s brother. You could claim the same position…”

“In the old kingdom, that same nobility nearly ran the clan into the ground,” Steagor rumbles. “In case you don’t remember. I support Ozork’s claim wholeheartedly, Gorvor, but what good would it do to put us over other members of the clan just because we did our duty?”

“You did so much more than that.” Gorvor stands and paces away from the desk, as Vark did earlier. “Now that Ozork has come to me with this plea… I’ve realized I haven’t been showing you how much I appreciate you all. And to learn that I’ve been so inattentive as to miss your issues, Mara…” He hangs his head, his hands at his waist.

Dawn stares up at him, her expression unhappy, but she doesn’t say anything. Perhaps she knows that this is an old wound for Gorvor—but it might be one we can all help heal.

“You’re mad if you think we are wanting for anything,” Vark explodes. He gestures at Gorvor, his booming voice rising. “You think we’d rather have our titles than a peaceful life? I only found my mate because you value prosperity and trading more than warfare. If I wanted to be a duke, I would have stayed with King Trak, but then I’d likely be dead , wouldn’t I?”

Steagor nods, his expression stormy. “Think of what you’re saying, Gorvor. Do you truly believe we’re unhappy?”

The king looks from one to the other, locking eyes with us all. Finally, he heaves a big sigh. “I don’t. That doesn’t mean I don’t question my decisions, especially when things are changing as rapidly as they seem to be lately. So many visitors, so many new couples.”

“And babies,” Dawn chimes in. “One has a tendency to reevaluate one’s life when children come into play.”

I stare at her, struck by the idea of having a babywith Owen. Would he even want one? Right now or after a couple of years? I’d completely forgotten, but I’ll have to visit Taris for her special tea if things between Owen and me are to progress.

“Aye, that’s true enough,” Vark agrees. “I would much rather see Wren growing up happythan a duchess. Like Steagor, I support Ozork’s idea fully because it will allow him and Willow to find justice, but I don’t need a title. Only the promise that you’ll continue leading this clan as you have in the decade since we left the old kingdom.”

Gorvor clears his throat, his eyes bright with emotion. “Aye, you have that promise. I vow to keep this clan safe.”

“That’s settled, then.” I close my hands around my mug of tea and take a fortifying sip. “I’m happy for Ozork. I hope Willow will be, too.”

“Oh, I bet she will.” Dawn pulls her hand away from Gorvor’s and flips open the ledger. “Now, we have a party to plan.”