Chapter 1

Chapter

One

The numbers in the ledger dance before my eyes. I stare blearily at the receipts, trying to check Jasmine’s work. I’ve been doing this regularly for several weeks now, but with how diligent she is, I don’t see the point anymore.

She’s been working for me most days, turning up early in the morning and never missing a thing. I told her she needed to shadow me for a while before I could pass some of my day-to-day tasks to her, and I thought it would take her months to get used to it, but before she arrived at the Hill and met her mates, she used to help her father run his inn in a village just across the border with the human kingdom. She’s smart and pays attention to details, always on time, and better than me at balancing the books.

I thought it would be hard for me to admit that—I’ve been doing this on my own for so long, it has become routine—but having someone else run the receipts has been a blessing.

I’d tried to recruit other helpers over the years, but there were so many more urgent tasks at the Hill. Orcs were needed to hunt, guard, and cook for the clan, to teach the children and to trade with the human lands. I was content to stay at the Hill, so I was the perfect choice for this task.

And it made me useful to the king, my ability to keep this massive anthill of a palace running smoothly. I’ve proven myself to him time and time again.

So I’d balanced the books and did sums every time the clan bought, sold, or traded something, hounding Ozork and his men for receipts and reports from the city.

Now all of those tasks will fall to Jasmine, though I’ll be there to lend a hand if she’ll need it. In time, we’ll train someone else to help her so she’ll be able to take time off work to have a baby if she wants.

At the thought of how happy she’s been to settle in with her mates, Morg and Torren, a twinge of the old jealousy flares up, a sensation so similar to heartburn, I swallow instinctively to push down the pain.

In recent years, I’ve watched so many of my friends find their mates—and happiness. One by one, they’d been struck by that sudden recognition as they smelled the one person they couldn’t live without.

Unbidden, the image of the human captain pops up in my mind. The memory of his scent, a mix of anise and cedar with a hint of leather, has been torturing me for weeks, but it was just that—a memory. The man arrived at the Hill to deliver a letter to my cousin, then left again less than an hour after my embarrassing accident. He was unaffected by me, so I have no idea why my thoughts keep returning to him.

He couldn’t possibly be my mate. The Fates wouldn’t be so cruel as to bring together two souls so wholly unsuited to each other.

I slam the ledger shut and wrench my mind off the infuriating human. I have better things to do than pine after a phantom of a man, a memory that’s becoming hazier with each passing day.

My stomach twists unpleasantly as another part of me reminds me that I’m fooling myself.

The Fates are never wrong .

It’s a saying I’ve been told ever since I was little. My parents, different as they were, belonged to each other so completely, one was lost without the other. And I’ve seen it with every one of my clansmen who fell in love—their instant, undying devotion to their mates.

But the human captain cannot be my mate. It would be the most ruinous, unsuitable match, for he is a human and lives in the south, where he likely has a family and all his friends, and I’m a mountain-dwelling orc.

Dawn has hinted that she wants to talk about him, but I’ve shut down all her attempts until she finally gave up. I couldn’t bear her disappointed expression, so I’ve been avoiding her lately. I don’t think she has noticed, given how busy she’s been with her firstborn, Arvel, but it’s never a good thing to be at odds with the queen. Gorvor might be my cousin, but I don’t harbor any illusions as to who he would choose if it came down to it. His human queen is so much more important to him than I am.

As Jasmine proved, I am replaceable. One task at a time, others could learn to do everything I know, and I would no longer have a place at the Hill.

A shudder goes through me, and I try to chase away the insidious thoughts. I know I’ll always have a place here, I do. Gorvor wouldn’t throw me out of the Hill just because I don’t want to speak to Dawn—that would be ridiculous.

But I’m afraid of what would happen if word got out that I’d scented my mate and did nothing to claim him.

So many orcs have been waiting for years—or decades, in Ozork’s case—to find their match, without success. Some would say that Gorvor cut our chances of finding happiness in half when he led us away from the old clan, leaving behind so many who wouldn’t abandon the despotic King Trak.

But he’d saved so many of us.

So when he found his human mate, I was so incredibly happy for him.

He saw Dawn, smelled her, and knew . She’d been terrified, a human alone in the orc lands, yet she’d come to trust him completely. He did everything he could to keep her, to make sure she stayed, and so did all the other orcs who were lucky enough to find their mates.

Apart from me.

I’d let the captain leave while I hid away in my rooms, sobbing and ripping off my food-splattered dress. I couldn’t believe the Fates had played such a dirty trick on me.

It had taken me too long to pull myself together, to change into a fresh dress, braid my messy hair, and make myself presentable again, but I did—and found him gone. Dawn had tried to tell me that he would return, but she was wrong. He’d left without so much as a backward glance, and I was never going to see him again.

Humans don’t form bonds as strongly as we do, after all. He only saw a clumsy orc woman who ran away.He returned to the human lands and will never know there’s an orc in the underground palace who’s been thinking of him every day since he left.

“Which makes me more than a little pathetic,” I mutter, standing to put away the ledger. I shove it into its slot on my shelf and wipe my fingers with a damp rag, trying to clean the black ink stains from the tips.

I think of finding Jasmine and telling her that she will no longer require supervision from now on. But it’s late, and she has probably retired for the evening with her two mates.

That ugly jealousy rears its head again. I remember how their courtship had played out. Morg and Torren had been completely smitten with Jasmine and fought over the privilege of spending time with her—and neither of them ever entertained the thought of leaving.

Then again, Jasmine didn’t run away from them like a coward.

I made a mess of things, and I’ll have to live with it for the rest of my life. My dreams, my hopes, all crumbled away the moment I realized that the shockingly wonderful scent belonged to a human man with duties that would forever keep him in the human kingdom.

I stack the receipts I checked on one pile for Jasmine and put the empty tea tray on a table by the door so I’ll take it to the kitchens tomorrow morning. Only crumbs remain from the slice of Earna’s cake I’d eaten while working. She said I’d been moping too much lately and tried to cheer me up the way she always did—by plying me with food.

The cake was delicious, studded with brandy-soaked raisins, but she’d also added anise seed to it, which ruined the experience somewhat. I’d been half tempted to take the jar of the offensive spice from her kitchen shelf and dash it into the fire so I wouldn’t have to smell it anymore. Or suffer the memories that came with it.

But I also didn’t want the kitchen staff to think I’ve lost my senses, so I’d taken the cake and ate it all, even though it left me fighting back tears in the privacy of my bedroom.

Once my room is neat as it can be, I lay out my nightgown and toe off my slippers. It’s late, and if I want to read some of the adventure story I’d borrowed from Violet in the library, I need to get ready for bed.

A loud knock at the door has me jerking up, my heart thudding against my ribs.

“Who is it?” I call.

A deep voice answers, “It’s Uram. Ozork needs you, Mara.”

I shove my feet into my slippers, then change my mind and choose a pair of boots instead.

“Just a moment,” I yell, tugging them on.

Then I grab my shawl—who knows where Ozork is—and swing open the door to find Uram waiting for me, leaning on the opposite wall. He doesn’t seem too perturbed, so some of the urgency leaches from me.

“This way.” He inclines his head down the corridor. “He’s taking a woman to the baths.”

I quicken my steps to follow his longer ones. “What?”

Uram sends me an amused look. “I don’t know much more than that. Darrin came running from the main gate into the hall, shouting for you, and I volunteered to get you from your rooms as he had to return to his post.”

At a crossroads where one signpost points to the baths and the other to the main hall, I tap his shoulder. “You don’t have to escort me all the way there. Rose will be waiting for you.”

His eyes light up at the suggestion. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” I resist the urge to add that I’m not completely helpless, even though I’m not a warrior. “I do know my way around the Hill.”

He frowns at me and steps forward. “That’s not why I asked, Mara. I just thought…” He pauses as if trying to find the right words. “You’ve seemed so upset lately. I didn’t want you to…”

“I’m fine,” I interrupt, embarrassment burning hot in my belly. “You needn’t worry. Please, you can return to your dinner.”

How mortifying that even Uram, who’s never been a close friend of mine, has noticed the shift in my mood. We’ve always gotten along well, but he’s a warrior and a hunter, often away on scouting trips, so we haven’t spent much time together in recent years. I must have seemed truly miserable for him to bring it up.

He eyes me for a while longer, then nods and leaves me standing there, my hands clenched into fists. His words echo in my head, unwanted and unpleasant.

You’ve seemed so upset .

Have I really? I thought I’ve been hiding my thoughts so well, but I obviously failed.

“Damn it.”

I resist the urge to kick the earthen wall, knowing it’ll only cause me pain. Instead, I turn on my heels and take the opposite corridor, marching on toward the baths. Uram said Ozork needs my help. I could never refuse him—and besides, whatever is going on will serve as the perfect distraction.

The winding tunnels are mostly empty at this hour, when my clansmen are either gathered at a late dinner or have returned to their rooms already. I greet Neekar’s parents who wave at me, but I don’t stop to talk—I don’t think I could bear to answer any more questions about my recent mood.

The air around me gets warm and damp, and my shoulders drop a notch. The baths always have this effect on me, and it’s enough to just imagine how it feels to float in those pools to relax a little.

“Ozork?” I call as I step from the corridor and squint into the mist. “Are you here?”

I hurry forward, hoping I haven’t missed them. If they’ve already gone into one of the pools, I won’t go searching for them—I don’t want to interrupt Ozork taking a bath with a woman, whoever she may be.

Two figures materialize from the mist. I recognize Ozork immediately, his bulky form towering over what seems to be a human woman, sitting on a bench, wrapped in a damp winter cloak and clutching a bathing sheet. She must be several years older than me, though I can’t be sure if she always looks this…bedraggled.

Her hair hangs limp at the sides of her face, her shoulders are hunched, and her nose and cheeks are red, though the rest of her face is alarmingly pale. She’s holding herself as if everything hurts.

“What’s going on?” I ask Ozork. “Uram came to fetch me but only said you’d taken a woman to the baths.”

The woman pushes herself to her feet, swaying slightly. “I’m so sorry. I’m afraid there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding.” She glances up at Ozork and adds, “Your friend here thought I was too chilled and decided to carry me to the baths to warm up. I’m sorry we bothered you.”

Her voice is croaky and rougher than any of the other human women’s. I stare at her, concern rising as I put together the shaking, the unhealthy color, and the way she winces every time she moves her hands. Then I glance at Ozork, who hovers anxiously beside her, his hand twitching as if he’s having to physically restrain himself.

He looks…stricken. He’s worried about this woman, and it goes beyond the usual care any of us would afford a creature as poorly as this.

“You carried her all the way?” I ask, wary of saying too much.

He dips his head, and his expression softens, fragile hope shining through. I grip his arm, squeezing quickly, then turn to the strange woman.

“I’m sorry for the confusion. Welcome to the Hill. I’m Mara, and I’m the steward,” I tell her. “It’s a good thing Uram came to get me. I’ll explain everything to you…”

I trail off, waiting for her to tell me her name. She blinks at me for a long moment, as if her thoughts are still sluggish from the cold, then straightens her shoulders with visible effort.

“Willow,” she croaks. “I’m the Duke of Ultrup’s niece. And his ambassador. I’ve come to meet your king.”

I glance at Ozork, but he’s staring at the woman, mouthing her name. I swallow my grin—the poor male seems completely besotted already. She looks up at him, and it’s incredible to watch her react to him so quickly.

This is how a meeting between fated mates should go. She’s wary, yes, but something pulls her in, and he already knows he’ll never leave her again.

In comparison, it’s clear why I’ve been doomed from the start. There’s magic here, old magic tying the two of them together, and I know it’s only a matter of time before they join the other happy couples at the Hill.

In my case, the Fates must have made the wrong choice after all. If I was able to run away from the man who was supposed to be my fated match, and if he could leave forever, then we just weren’t right for each other.

I can only hope I’ll find someone else someday—that this doesn’t mean I’ve used up my one chance of finding a mate for life.

The woman—Willow—rubs her cheek and winces. “I’m aware we’ve arrived too late to meet the king. And I’d love a bath. But I have to speak to the captain of my guard.” She peers into the mist, past my shoulder. “He went to fetch my cat, you see, and I think he might have gotten lost in the tunnels.”

It takes me a moment to understand the meaning of her words. My mind gets stuck on them, repeating them over and over, because surely…

“The captain?” I choke out.

Ozork, the traitorous ass, chuckles at my discomfort. “Finally.”

Damn it . Ozork was there. I’d forgotten all about that. The only bright memory from that day, from the parlor, is the captain’s face, his golden hair shining bright, his blue eyes wide as he stared at the mess I’d made. But Ozork witnessed the catastrophe, as did Gorvor, Dawn, Marut, and his mate, Violet.

The Duke of Ultrup’s niece looks from me to Ozork and back, then smiles, her tired expression lighting up. “Of course, you’ve met him. And these fine men, I suppose.”

I swivel on my heels to follow her gaze and notice two human soldiers, standing at attention not far from us. They’ve been almost completely obscured by the mist, that’s true, but if I could have missed them so easily, I might have missed the captain as well. And I do not want to meet the man who’s been causing such havoc in my life—all while he was hundreds of miles away.

“Ah, yes,” I blurt, hands shaking from a sudden panic. “Gentlemen, you must try the baths. Ozork, I’ll take Willow to the other end, and after, I’ll see her settled in one of the guest rooms. Will you…?”

Footsteps . Footsteps echo in the corridor, getting louder, and that can only mean one thing.

I’ve run out of time.