Chapter 3

Chapter

Three

The captain catches up to me with long strides, his damp brown cloak hanging limp around his shoulders, his hair mussed, his skin reddened from the cold. He should be wholly unattractive to me, a smelly, road-weary mess of a man, yet I’m drawn closer, my feet carrying me to meet him halfway.

“I’m sorry.” He stops in front of me and pushes a hand through his hair, then seems to remember he’s pulled it back in a bun and he’s only making it worse.

I look up at him—he’s only three inches or so taller than me, which makes him shorter than most orcs, even though he’s tall for a human.

“What for?” I ask, searching his expression for any hint of what he’s thinking.

His throat bobs as he swallows, and he seems at a loss for words. Perhaps he’s so tired from his travels, or affected by the cold like Willow. He doesn’t seem to be on the edge of exhaustion, though—he merely stares at me as if he’s never seen an orc before. His gaze travels from my hair to my eyes, to my lips and tusks, and jerks back abruptly before he has a chance to glance down at my body.

His cheeks turn a deeper shade of red, and I have to smother a smile at his embarrassment.

Oh, right . I’m only wearing a dressing gown. To a human, this must be terribly inappropriate. I should cover up, draw the dress I’m holding over my chest to make myself more presentable. But in a perverse way, it pleases me to see him out of sorts, even if he’s hiding it well behind his stoic soldier’s demeanor. He’s caused me enough grief over the past weeks, so perhaps he’s due some suffering of his own.

Finally, he clears his throat. “Forgive me, but this is twice you’ve run away from me now, and I can’t help but think I’ve done something to offend you. So I would like to clear the air, my lady, and introduce myself to you, at least.” He takes a step back and offers me a quick bow. “If you’ll allow it, of course.”

It’s my turn to be flustered again. He talks to me as if I’m a courtier, a highborn lady of a rank much higher than his. I haven’t met many humans apart from the women who’ve come to live here and some farmers from our lands who visit for the harvest festival every fall, but surely, that’s not how humans address their equals?

“I’m Mara,” I say quickly, extending my hand in greeting. “Norriah’s daughter. Welcome to the Hill.”

He takes my hand, but instead of shaking it like I’d expected, he grips it firmly with cool, strong fingers, bows, and brushes a light kiss over my knuckles. “Captain Owen Hawke, at your service.”

My hand tingles as he releases it. I squeeze my fingers into a fist, shoving down the urge to sniff at them to see if Captain Hawke’s scent clings to my skin. As it is, it’s invading my lungs, sharpening my senses, and filling my head with impossible thoughts.

I study him just as closely as he’s studying me—and because he’s being a little rude, I allow myself the same, feasting my gaze on his handsome features. A short beard covers his strong jaw, the bristles a light brown instead of black like with most orcs. His hair might be damp, but it’s so pale and shiny. I’ve only seen that color on Poppy, Steagor’s mate—though her eyes are a different shade of blue than his. I’ve always been content to live in the underground palace, in the darkness and torchlight, but now, I wish I could look upon Captain Hawke’s face in the sun to see how his eyes compare to the clear summer sky.

I jerk to my senses, suddenly aware I’ve been gawking at him for far too long. And what madness is this, wanting to go outside to admire a man in the sunlight?

Shaking my head, I take a small step back to gain some distance, but Captain Hawke follows me, then stops again, his movements jerky as if he’s not in control of himself.

Just a little more…

Damn it, this isn’t good. I shouldn’t indulge this feeling, not when he’s so completely wrong for me, and I for him. Nothing good will come of this.

“My lady,” he blurts, his chest expanding on a deep inhale. He seems to be bracing himself for something. “Could you perhaps show me to the kitchens? It’s been a long day, and after dark, we didn’t dare stop or we’d risk the horses getting too chilled.”

“Oh!” I widen my eyes, shocked at my own rudeness. “Gods, of course. You must be half starved.”

My training kicks in, and I straighten my back, falling into the role of the hostess. It’s familiar and offers me a chance to speak and act without having to think too much—which is good because half my wits seem to have drained out of me in the warm bathwater earlier. The captain will think me a simpleton if I don’t stop staring at him, so I grasp the opportunity to be useful and motion for him to follow.

He falls into step beside me easily, his long legs matching my quick steps. He doesn’t stare at me as openly as before, instead following our path with a soldier’s alertness.

“Thank you for helping Lady Willow,” he says after a moment. “She did look better after her bath.”

I can’t help but wince at the memory of her shivering form. “The hot water does wonders for the body. You should try it sometime.” In another breath, I realize I just told the man that he should wash, so I stammer, “I-I didn’t mean to say that you smell. That is—your scent is very pleasant.”

He surprises me with a low laugh—and I stumble, losing my footing because I’m too busy gawking at his face and the way his skin crinkles around his eyes.He has dimples . Little half-moons, mostly hidden under his short beard, but there nevertheless, taunting me to press my thumbs into them.

The captain catches my elbow, steadying me. “Careful, now.”

His voice is low, his grip strong but not painful, and I cannot move. My lips part, the need to touch him, to put my arms around him suddenly so strong, I can barely breathe.

This is my mate .

He’s the one man who’s destined to be mine, and I want him so badly, it’s taking everything in me to hold back. I’ve watched the orcs in my clan find their mates and wondered how they could give themselves over so completely to another person, even as I craved to do the same.

But now that Captain Hawke is here, staring at me, his hand still on my arm, I’m just afraid.

I saw my parents love each other deeply, even though they didn’t always see eye to eye. And I watched my mother suffer after my father fell in battle, becoming a shell of her former self before she faded away completely.

Now I understand. The tether between this man and me isn’t even complete, because he doesn’t know what’s going on, and yet I feel as if I’m being pulled toward him without permission.

And when he leaves, as he inevitably will, bound by his duty to the duke or whichever master he serves in the human lands, I’ll be left here, unmoored and weak, pining for his return.

I jerk my arm away and step back, breathing hard.

The captain’s face drains of color, and he presses himself against the wall, his chest rising and falling too quickly.

“My lady.” His voice comes out as barely more than a rasp. He shakes his head and tries again, “I’m—I didn’t mean to grab you. Please. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I would never—that is?—”

I take pity on him because he was just trying to help, and it’s not his fault we’ve been struck with this misfortune.”It’s all right. Come now, we should find you something to eat, and then I’ll show you to your room.”

My training as a steward is a crutch that will help me get through this evening. I only need to hold it together for a while longer, get this man some food, and deliver him to his bed. Tomorrow, he’ll have plenty to do escorting his protégée around the Hill, I’m sure, or training with his soldiers. I won’t see him at all, and we’ll both be able to continue our lives as we always have. I’ll survive this awful affliction, and he’ll eventually return to his old life in the human lands, none the wiser.

The captain swallows, then nods, visibly pulling himself together. He’s still pale as we make our way down the corridor. A part of me wants to take the long way around to the great hall just so I could spend a moment longer in his presence, but I shake the thought and follow the shortest route, cutting through smaller passageways and linen closets that connect parallel hallways.

This is how it has to be.

It’s going to be painful to watch him leave when the time comes, but it would be a whole lot harder if I got attached to him in the meantime.

“This place is amazing,” he murmurs suddenly.

I jerk to attention, realizing I’ve been lost in my thoughts, while he’s been studying every turn, every signpost we pass.

I reel my emotions back in, fortifying myself against his presence and voice. “Aye, it’s magnificent, isn’t it? It was mostly already carved when we found it.”

He jerks his head toward me. “You found it? You mean to say it wasn’t your clan that carved these halls into rock?”

“No, we don’t know who used to live here, but I suspect it was another clan of orcs, given how perfectly this place fits us.” I motion at the tall ceiling, doming several feet over my head. “Ozork was the one to discover it when he went scouting for the king. He said he got lost in here but wasn’t scared at all because it immediately felt like home.”

I still remember the day we arrived here after our long journey from the old kingdom. We’d been so beaten, so tired and hopeless, but this place had provided shelter, warmth, and later, a well of riches and comfort so deep, our children’s children will be provided for if we’re careful with it.

“Where did you live before?” The captain watches me closely, his expression open and curious. “I don’t know much about orcs besides the fact that you’re formidable warriors.”

“In a mountain fortress in the other orc kingdom. We were a part of the Boar Clan before we left.” I offer him a wry smile. “And I’m not a warrior, I can tell you that much. It’s all the ones with swords you have to look out for.”

He grins back, his posture relaxing at the easy conversation. “All right. What do you do then, Lady Mara?”

“Just Mara is fine,” I say quickly. “We don’t stand on ceremony here.”

He sketches a polite bow. “Then, you must call me Owen.”

I try to hold back my flush, but his name fits him so well, somehow, I want to repeat it over and over, roll it in my mouth and let it spill from my tongue.

Then I give myself a firm shake and glance at him from the corner of my eye, a precaution since I believe it’s the sight of him that’s driving me mad. Or perhaps it’s his warm scent, a lure developed just for me.

“Well,” I say slowly, gathering my thoughts, “I’m the steward of the Hill. It just so happens it’s my task to escort weary travelers and offer them food and shelter.”

His smile is brilliant as he replies, “How lucky that I stumbled upon you, then.”

I raise my eyebrow at him. “You didn’t. You ran after me and chased me down.”

I don’t know what possessed me to say this, but I regret it the moment he stops, his face turning a deeper shade of pink, his mouth dropping open. He stares at me, then snaps his mouth shut. A muscle jumps in his cheek, and finally, he inclines his head at me.

“So I did,” he murmurs. “And I don’t regret it one bit.”

Heat shoots into my cheeks, and I dig my fingers into the cloth of my dress, clenching them hard to keep from reaching for the captain—for Owen . He’s won this round, and I have nothing more to say to him that doesn’t involve confessions I’m not ready to make, so I twist on my heels and march on, and don’t react when he catches up with me again, easily keeping pace.

Gods, if this is how our very first conversation is going, I’ll have to be very careful in the future. If I let slip too much, if he finds out that he’s my fated match, things could get complicated, fast. I’m still not certain the Fates are evil enough to land me with someone who could never stay with me, nor I with him, so perhaps there is a way out of this still.

But there won’t be if we?—

Stop thinking about it .

I round a corner and sigh in relief when the lights of the great hall come into view. They spill into the hallway, the torches still burning despite the late hour. Once all the orcs have finished their dinner, most of the torches will be extinguished to allow the hall to cool down overnight, though we always leave a couple of lanterns burning so our resident humans don’t get lost in the dark.

“Oh.” Owen stops at the entry to the massive chamber, gazing up and around. “It’s so big . It was so crowded when I was last here, I didn’t get the sense…”

I stand beside him and try to see my home through his eyes. “I suppose I’m used to it. But the entire Hill is large. It could house a clan twice the size of ours, and we’d still have empty rooms.”

His lips pull up in a smile. “Does that mean I’m getting a room of my own? I must admit it would be a nice luxury after weeks on the road, sharing lodgings with my men.”

“Aye, we can spare one for each of you, I think.” I purse my lips, thinking things through. “Unless you brought a full battalion, that is.”

I lead him toward the kitchens to find some dinner. I wonder where the other human soldiers are—they must have been given food, but perhaps they were all too tired to do more than shovel dinner into their mouths and retire to their rooms.

“No, just a small escort.” Owen follows me. “It’s easier to travel fast with fewer men, and besides, the duke’s roads are well kept. We didn’t have any trouble traveling here.”

At the kitchen door, he darts around me and holds it open for me. The gesture is innocent enough, but it’s kind and it allows his scent to billow around me once more, muddling my senses.

Gods, but he smells good.

Perhaps Taris has a pungent salve I could smear under my nose to prevent smelling him so strongly. It would look strange to have goop on my face, but if it helped…

I step quickly past Owen and into the kitchen. Carrow is there, elbow-deep in flour as he kneads a batch of dough for tomorrow’s bread, while four younger orcs on kitchen duty are busy with the dishes, exchanging quips and banter at the large troughs at the wall. Hot water from the thermal spring that flows through the baths has been diverted into the kitchen as well, making an otherwise onerous task of washing up after the clan at least slightly more bearable.

As a girl, I’d had my fair share of kitchen duty, but I’d always preferred it to the mandatory weapons training sessions with Orsha and the other combat teachers. Everyone does their share, that’s the motto of our clan, and this space has always been a comfort to me, a haven filled with chatter, good food, and warmth.

“Hey, Mara.” Carrow lifts his chin in greeting. “What brings you here so late?”

Owen steps into the kitchen behind me, and everyone turns to stare at him. One of the youngsters drops a ladle into the trough, the clatter jarring in the silence.

“This is Captain Hawke,” I announce brightly to cover the awkwardness. “He’s come to the Hill with the Duke of Ultrup’s ambassador and missed dinner. I’ll fix him a quick meal. You don’t have to do a thing.”

The young orcs exchange glances, but they’re eager to resume their evening activities so they turn their backs on us. We’re older than them and likely too boring to hold their interest.

But Carrow keeps his gaze on us, following my movements around the kitchen, even as he kneads the bread.

Owen undoes his travel cloak and hangs it on a peg by the door. With purposeful, measured steps, he walks to the trough at the wall and washes his hands with the bar of simple kitchen soap, then dries them on a cloth and turns back to me. “What can I do to help?”

I flush, not willing to admit that I’ve been watching him instead of preparing his food. With a trembling hand, I point at a bowl of hard-boiled eggs that Earna always keeps on the counter for a handy snack. “Er, you can peel some of those. I’ll see if there’s any boar roast left.”

Carrow spears me with a curious look, no doubt wondering why I’m being so awkward. Clearly, he doesn’t remember the captain from his last visit, which is just as well—I don’t need him butting in or, gods forbid, telling Owen I’ve been distracted and moping all these weeks.

I don’t want to give my friend more ammunition for teasing, so I scurry into the larder to find the leftovers from tonight’s dinner. I scavenge some cold roast and carrots, a pair of bread rolls, and some oat and hazelnut biscuits Earna must have kept back from the ever-hungry horde of children who always come begging for sweets after a meal.

Then I take several deep breaths through my nose to calm my nerves, filling my lungs with the scents of flour, honey, and spices—until I notice the blasted anise that reminds me so much of Owen’s scent.

Cursing softly under my breath, I return to the kitchen—and find Owen chatting easily with Carrow, who seems to be pouring tea for us all.

“Mara, why didn’t you tell me Owen visited the Hill that time you dropped the food platter?”

My traitorous friend grins widely, showing all his teeth. I grip the bread roll too tightly, squishing it between my fingers, but it’s either that or lobbing it at Carrow—and I’ve never had good aim, so I might hit Owen instead.

Fantastic. The two of them are on a first-name basis after I’ve been absent for all of two minutes. There is no way this could end badly.

I shoot Carrow a glare and set the food in front of the captain with more force than strictly necessary. “Here you go. If there’s anything you don’t like, there’s also?—”

“This is great,” he says, touching my arm.

I stare down at his hand on the sleeve of my dressing gown, feeling its warmth through the soft fabric. He jerks his hand back after a moment and clears his throat, then goes back to peeling an egg.

He’s likely remembering how I reacted earlier, when he steadied me in the hallway. Which is to say I avoided his touch like it burned me.

I let out a slow exhale to calm my nerves, then chance a look at Carrow.

A mistake, to be sure.

My friend is watching us with avid interest, and from the way his grin grows slowly, I know he at least suspects what’s going on. I shake my head at him subtly, and he gives me a solemn nod as if promising he’ll keep my secret, and for now, that’ll have to do.

When we were younger, back at the old palace, I may have had a tiny crush on him—before he informed me that he liked boys better than girls. Whenever we’d had kitchen duty together or ended up as sparring partners, he’d been a great help, and I’d dreamt of how nice it would be if he turned out to be my fated mate when we grew up. He would have been kind to me, and he, too, preferred staying indoors, in the kitchens, rarely venturing out into danger.

We would have made a good couple, but neither of us ever felt the dangerous pull I feel for Captain Hawke.

Carrow knocks back the rest of his tea, gives the cup to the young orcs to wash, and declares, “The bread won’t make itself. It was lovely to meet you, Owen. Make sure to drop by often while you’re here. We have all the best treats.”

I close my eyes briefly, hoping Owen won’t notice how strangely Carrow is behaving—or the meaningful glances he’s sending me over his shoulder.

But Owen is focused on his dinner, his posture relaxed, and for the first time since we met, I have an opportunity to study him without him watching me back. He’s… Gods, he’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen, and I don’t know how I’ll keep myself from falling for him.

I grip the back of a kitchen chair, my knuckles turning pale, and when I catch Carrow’s eye, he seems concerned, his dark eyebrows knitted in a frown. I blow out a slow breath to calm down and force myself to release the chair.

“Won’t you sit?” Owen looks up at me, a cup of tea in one hand, a bread roll in the other. “I’ll only be a minute longer.”

His expression is so earnest, so open, I want to do exactly as he says, let myself fall, and damn the consequences.

But I can’t—it would hurt too much when he eventually leaves me, just as everyone else has done.

Instead of taking the chair opposite him, I call out to the youngsters still washing the dishes, “Priah, Borm, can you show the captain the guest quarters after he’s done with his dinner? I think the room next to Lady Willow’s should have been reserved for him.”

“Aye, Mara, no problem,” Priah chirps back. She jerks her chin at Owen and adds, “Just let us know when you’re done, sir.”

I bid Carrow goodnight, give the captain a small curtsy, and hurry out of the kitchen before he can find a reason to keep me there any longer.

I’m running from him again, and I bet he knows it, too—but perhaps my flight will work this time.

Maybe he’ll understand that I want nothing to do with him and leave me alone once and for all.

I tell myself it’s for the best, that this will protect us in the long run because we’ve been doomed from the start.

That doesn’t explain why my heart feels like it’s being torn in two, or why my cheeks are suddenly wet, but I don’t stop until I’m safe in my room, door bolted and all the lanterns extinguished so no one can witness my sorrow.