Chapter 5

Chapter

Five

I wake up early the next morning with a growling stomach and bleary eyes. I’d cried myself to sleep, then dreamed all through the night, strange, convoluted dreams that had me tossing and turning in my bed, my sweaty nightgown sticking to me.

I should change my sheets and take them to the washroom, but I can’t bring myself to meet anyone just yet. Instead, I grab a dressing gown and a change of clothes, then tiptoe through the hallways toward the baths.

The pool I choose is on the smaller side, just enough for me to comfortably submerge myself if I crouch. I dip underwater and stay there for as long as my breath will allow it—it’s so cleansing to feel the hot water sluicing past me, to block out all the noise and the thoughts. I listen to my blood rushing in my ears, and as strange as it is, I breathe more easily once I resurface.

I take my time with my hair, oiling the roots and the ends, then washing it twice. The baths become busier as more and more orcs come for their morning wash, and I know I’ll have to leave soon or risk running into someone who will ask me how I’m doing—and then I’ll have to lie. Or explain the truth, which would be much worse.

Scrubbing all my hair back, I plunge under the surface again, holding my breath. Just a few more moments of peace. I deserve that much before I’ll have to rejoin the clan and take up my daily tasks, making sure the Hill is run efficiently and safely. I’ll only take a minute and?—

A hand grasps my shoulder, strong fingers digging into my skin. Then I’m hauled up—and I burst through the surface, splashing and coughing, my mouth filling with water from the shock of being dragged so rudely through the pool.

“Are you all right?” a male voice yells.

I try to bat his hand away, but he’s holding on to me tightly, pressing me against the edge. I splutter, my hair hanging in my face, water stinging my eyes, then manage to get my feet under me and stand.

“What are you doing ?” I snap and turn toward the source of the yelling.

And there is Owen, in a white shirt and brown pants, splashed with water, his hair undone and messy. He’s staring at me with his mouth open, and it hits me suddenly that I’m naked—completely naked and standing in a small pool, with water only reaching the undersides of my breasts.

I shouldn’t be embarrassed.

Orcs aren’t ashamed—or afraid—of their bodies, and I’ve been in the presence of so many of my fellow clansmen and women over the years. Just a few nights ago, I bathed in one of these pools with Willow, and I’d almost pitied her for how she’d hidden herself away, even though her body is just as nice as anyone else’s.

Yet now, with Owen gawping at me like this, a flush of heat rises in my cheeks. I crouch quickly so I dip underwater, submerging myself to my chin.

“Everything all right over there?” a woman calls from the mist, somewhere to my right.

For a mad moment, I want to cry for her help, ask her to come over and chase away this man who’s been haunting my thoughts.

“Aye,” I yell back, “We’re fine.”

Owen twists his head to follow the sound, then looks back at me again, though he keeps his gaze on my face, rather than my submerged body.

“I saw—” he starts, then chokes and tries again, “I saw you underwater and I thought— I only wanted to help, Mara. I didn’t even know it was you.”

Just like that, my anger evaporates, washed away by the water flowing past me. “You thought I was drowning?”

He tugs at the back of his shirt, pulls it over his head, and wipes his face on it, blotting the droplets my thrashing had left there. “Yes. Clearly, I didn’t see how shallow the water was.” He dips his gaze to the stone lip of the pool. “I keep having to apologize to you.”

Despite all the wetness surrounding me, my mouth runs dry at the sight of his skin. My first thought is that he’s trying to present himself in the best light, but perhaps he’s just comfortable being half naked around people? He told me himself that he’d shared accommodations with his men on the road.

I run my fingers through my hair, pushing it back. It’s all tangled now, so I should dip myself again, but Owen follows my movements with interest, as if he’s never seen a woman finger-comb her hair before.

If he’s staring, then I can, too, I decide, and let my gaze travel from his handsome face to his broad shoulders, noting the pink scars on his arms, no doubt the result of years of training and battles.

It hits me then that I’m lucky he’s here. He’s a soldier, after all, and might have died in any of those skirmishes. The fact that he’s here, alive and disturbing my inner peace, is a blessing.

I’m trying to find the right words to say, but perhaps I’m still too tired from my strange dreams because I blurt, “Why did you apologize yesterday?”

Owen shakes his head, a wry smile twisting his lips. “I’ve been trying to think of a good reason, but I can’t find one.”

“You-you can’t?”

A fragile hope blooms in my chest, and I try to squash it down, because it’s premature, unreasonable. But it glows there, a happy little sprout, and I know it’ll hurt all the more when it’s inevitably smothered by reality.

Owen picks up a bundle of cloth that I realize is a bathing sheet he must have dropped earlier when he’d tried to save me. He gazes at me, then steps to the left, toward another small pool. He hesitates, then sets his bathing sheet on the lip of the pool.

“Would you mind if I, ah, bathed as well?” he asks. “My men will be waiting for me at breakfast.”

I shake my head, struck speechless at this turn of events. He’d seemed so shocked earlier when he saw me naked, but now, he wants to…level the stakes, perhaps?

He turns his back to me and takes a deep inhale, his shoulders rising, then dropping. Then he quickly toes off his boots, undoes the laces of his pants, and shoves them down his long legs.

I don’t look away.

Why would I? Nakedness is nothing to be embarrassed about, and besides, I’m curious . I’ve seen human women undressed, but never a man, so I watch avidly as he flashes a pair of tight ass cheeks, strong rider’s thighs and calves, covered in curly golden hair, and between his legs, a hint of…

He splashes into the pool, perhaps a bit gracelessly because he’s in such a hurry to hide himself underwater. I can’t help but grin, though I bite my inner cheek before he faces me again. I don’t want him to feel embarrassed by this—what could be more natural and comfortable than taking a bath?

That tantalizing sight of his manhood has my thoughts running wild. I only saw the shadow, but from where it was in relation to his legs, I think…I might want to see more of it.

It never occurred to me to wonder how we would fit together because I’ve been trying so hard not to think about him. But orc men and human women can fuck, so surely…

“Mmh.” Owen settles into the pool with a low groan. “This is one of the best things I’ve ever experienced.”

I grab a bar of soap and lather up my hands, even though I’ve washed myself already. It won’t hurt if I stay here just a little longer. After all, it’s not even time for breakfast yet, so I can take a minute to talk.

“In the old palace, we didn’t have hot water,” I tell Owen. “We had a communal bathing space with fires always burning under big copper tubs, but the water was never as fresh.”

He leans his head on the lip of the pool and stares at the ceiling, his mouth upturned in a smile. “Ah. Especially lovely when a whole battalion of soldiers comes back from a campaign and they stink up the place, huh?”

I laugh at the image. “You seem to have experience with that.”

Owen sends me a sideways glance. “I joined the Army at fifteen. I’ve had to work my way up the ranks and spent a decade being a common foot soldier before they transferred me to the city watch.”

I’ve stopped pretending that I’m washing, so I lift the slightly softened soap from the water and deposit it in a dish. “At fifteen? That’s awfully young. Our children train, but they can’t join the ranks of the warriors until they’re nineteen years old.”

“Oh, our Army doesn’t accept children either. I told them I was eighteen when I signed up.” He takes the soap I set aside and scrubs his arms with it, then adds, “I think they knew I was lying, but I was tall for my age and didn’t mind scrubbing out the floors or tending to the barracks if it meant I got to eat well three times a day.”

Something moves in my chest at his words. Did he grow up poor? Or was he an orphan? I want to ask him all of it, but I don’t know how to put the questions delicately, without insulting him or his family. I’ve always had enough to eat, even in the old kingdom.

“I didn’t tell you this so you could pity me.” Owen’s voice is quiet, and he looks right at me, his chin raised proudly. “I’m lucky to have a family who loves me, but my parents had four other children, all younger than me, and I saw the strain on our family’s finances once my father had to retire from work because of his bad back.” He shrugs and goes back to washing himself. “I was never much good with letters or numbers, and the Army sounded like a lot of fun. Several of us boys from our neighborhood joined the ranks that year.”

I study his expression closely, noting the frown line between his eyebrows, the muscle jumping in his jaw.

“How many of those friends made it to adulthood?”

He snaps his head up, his gaze sharp. “Two,” he rasps. “Only two.”

“I’m sorry.”

I want to reach out and touch his arm, to wrap him in an embrace and comfort him—but we’re in separate pools, both naked, and most of all, still mostly strangers. He said he didn’t want my pity earlier, and I don’t think he wants it now.

We’re not so different, after all.

Owen nods, then takes a deep breath and submerges himself, disappearing underwater. In a few seconds, he rises again, his blond hair darkened and slicked back from his face, accentuating his high cheekbones and the square cut of his jaw.

He’s magnificent, his shoulders rounded with muscle, his chest sculpted and hard, scattered with more golden hair.

He scrubs his hands over his face—and catches me staring.

I can’t look away. His form isn’t all that different from any other man I’ve ever seen, though his skin is pale and pinkened from the heat of the water. But I’ve never been this fascinated with anyone before.

For long moments, Owen stares right back at me, his gaze going from my hair to my face and down to where I’m hidden by the reflective surface of the pool. If I stood, he’d see my upper body, too, because I’m not much shorter than him—and I wonder if that bothers him, if he prefers shorter women, maybe, ones shaped like Poppy or Jasmine or Dawn.

But it’s not them he’s watching, and from the intensity of his gaze, I don’t think he minds my form at all, nor my green skin.

The tension between us tightens. I squeeze my hands into fists to keep myself from climbing out of my pool and straight into his. I want to feel his warm skin under my palms, to touch those scars he hides beneath his tunic. I want to be the only one who counts all those tiny moles on his skin, constellations of brown dots.

He moves first, picking up the soap again and bringing it up to his nose to sniff. “Is this the soap you use?”

I frown. He just saw me put it there—so why is he…?

Oh .

I told him I use strawberry-scented soap to cover up the fact that he seems to scent my natural essence, the same as an orc would.

He’s staring at me with narrowed eyes, and when I don’t reply, he puts the soap down and rinses his hands. “Smells nothing like strawberries.”

I don’t have the will to lie to him anymore, but he still hasn’t indicated that he wants anything more from me than staring at me from afar. Unless he acts first and tells me he wants me for me, not because he feels obligated to remain here, I won’t say anything.

Owen stands, water sluicing down his hard body, and reaches for the bathing sheet he’d left by the pool earlier.

My runaway thoughts grind to an abrupt halt. “Are you leaving?”

Owen stops, too, his blue eyes widening. “No—I mean, only for breakfast. But if you’d like, I could stay awhile.”

I could stay awhile .

My heart stutters, and for a moment, I think he’s talking about staying here , at the Hill—but he isn’t. He only means right now, in the baths, and I’m a fool for thinking otherwise.

I swallow past a suddenly tight throat. “But…you’ll leave. Eventually. Correct?”

He cocks his head to the side, and I know he’s having trouble following my thoughts—he just answered the same question from me, after all.

So I clarify, “You’re part of Lady Willow’s guard, which means that when she returns to the human lands, so will you.”

“Ah.” He dries his face on the towel, then lowers it again. “Yes. I’m still in the service of the Duke of Ultrup, and I’ll have to return to the city come springtime.”

“Right.”

I knew this all along. I knew it, yet I allowed myself to hope—to believe, if only for a little while, that he might stay. I gaze down at my hands, the image wobbly because I’m staring at them through the surface of the water. Or perhaps it’s my eyes that are watering, which is bad, because I don’t want Owen to think he’s done anything wrong.

He hasn’t—he’s just a man bound by duty, and I need to respect that.

“Mara.”

His voice has me looking up again. He’s staring at me, expression tense, though I can’t be sure what he’s thinking. He’s human and a soldier, trained to hold back his emotions.

“Are you—?” He stops, then clears his throat and starts again. “You said you’re the steward of the Hill?”

I nod, wondering why he’s asking.

“So you have a duty here ?” His gaze intensifies, his grip on the bathing sheet so strong, his knuckles are turning white. “You cannot leave?”

Oh .

He’s asking me the same question I demanded of him, only in reverse. And just as he was honest with me, I need to be honest with him.

“That’s correct,” I say softly. I’m proud my voice doesn’t break when I add, “I cannot leave.”