Chapter 8

Chapter

Eight

The night is long, with vague dreams of running down the corridors but never arriving anywhere, and more crying every time I wake up and remember what happened. I get up in the morning with a pounding head and red-rimmed eyes. A bath would feel amazing, but I dare not venture there. I met Owen at the baths yesterday, and I have no wish to be rescued by him again. So I wash in cold water, and it serves its purpose of brightening me up. What I need is a hearty breakfast, some bacon perhaps, and a gallon of strong tea.

I stuff my old nightgown back in the clothes hamper and take it to the washroom on my way to the great hall. I’ve had one night of self-pity, and that’s quite enough. If I see Owen anywhere, I’ll do my best to act like we’re just polite acquaintances, and I hope he’ll do the same. And I’ll have to talk to Poppy and Steagor and ask them to stop matchmaking, no matter how pure their intentions.

The noise of the breakfast crowd has me cringing, and my head throbs harder than before. I squint at the tables, wondering where I could sit without having to speak to anyone—at least until I’ve had my tea. Though with a headache of this magnitude, I might need to visit Taris at the infirmary later and get some of her willow bark tea to get through the day.

“Mara!”

I turn in the direction of the call instinctively, recognizing Carrow’s clear voice. Moments later, I realize my mistake—because his human, Ian, is there, sitting right next to my friend, and opposite them…

Oh gods .

Even from a distance, Owen looks weary. His hair is brushed and pulled back in a bun, his tunic is clean and seems freshly pressed, but his eyes are shadowed with dark circles, and he’s staring right at me.

I could run. Turn on my heels right now and hightail it out of the great hall, propriety and reputation be damned. How can I sit next to Owen and pretend that everything is fine? Now that he’s right here in front of me, I know there’s no world where I could act like he’s not important to me.

On top of that, Carrow will see immediately that something happened. He knows me well enough—and I don’t know if I can trust him to keep his mouth shut. He wouldn’t speak out of malice, but if he tried to help , he could very well stomp on what little dignity I have left.

But I can’t do that to Owen. He doesn’t deserve to be treated like garbage, not after I’d initiated that kiss last night.

With heavy steps, I make my way toward their table. I scan my other clansmen who’d claimed seats on the same side as Ian and Carrow, but none of them are close to finishing their breakfast, so it would look strange if I tried to shuffle them aside.

That means I’ll have to… Oh, the Fates are toying with me because I’ve been denying their will, no doubt about it.

I take the only empty seat at the table and squeeze in next to Owen. When I wobble, he even reaches out as if to steady me, but I pitch myself forward and grip the table instead. I don’t know if I could trust myself if he touched me, so it’s best to avoid that.

Still, our thighs brush as I settle on the bench, and heat shoots through me, sudden and scorching all my thoughts.

“Are you feeling all right, Mara?” Carrow asks, his brow creased in concern. “You look a little flushed.”

Beside me, Owen grips his fork tightly but doesn’t glance up at me.

“Aye, I’m fine. Didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Didn’t someone say all the best lies are rooted in truth? I hope Carrow won’t pry any further, and I’m relieved when Ian lets out a snort of laughter, glancing up at my friend.

“Neither did we.” Carrow grins broadly.

Ian slaps his arm lightly, his face pink, but he seems pleased, too. I chance a look at Owen to find him staring at the two men, his expression pensive.

“I did want to talk to you, Captain,” Ian says between bites of sausage. “I know you said you’d be sending about half of us home early. I’d like to stay at the Hill as long as you’re here.”

Owen lifts his eyebrows. “Truly? You wouldn’t mind?”

Ian’s expression brightens when he glances at Carrow. “Not one bit. I suppose I’ll have to return to Ultrup come spring since I just signed on for another year of service this autumn.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Carrow says softly. “I’ll come with you to Ultrup if I have to.”

They’re staring at each other like the rest of the world has ceased to exist, and it’s almost uncomfortable to witness the kind of intimacy that has nothing to do with touching or kissing.

Ian sets down his fork, though his plate is still half full. He gives Owen a deferential nod, then stands and offers Carrow his hand. My friend beams at him, his face alight with happiness, and they disappear down a corridor, already in their own happy bubble.

Owen clears his throat and picks up his mug of tea from the table. I glance at him from the corner of my eye, watching him gulp down the hot tea. It’s even more awkward now to be sitting next to him instead of on the opposite side of the table.

“They seem happy,” he remarks quietly. “It happened so fast, though.”

I give him a vague hum, not wanting to discuss this with him. If he thinks Ian and Carrow’s relationship is developing too quickly, he doesn’t say so out loud—but he seems thoughtful, his gaze roaming over the crowd around us.

He must be close to realizing what’s going on.Sooner or later, someone will mention their mate,which means my time to talk to him, to explain, is running out. When he knows the truth, any relationship that might be building between us will be tainted by his knowing. He’ll be pressured to make a decision.

All my life, I’ve been told that finding a mate is the best, most wonderful thing an orc could experience in their lifetime. And seeing my friends and relatives find theirs, I thought the same because they were all lucky. But I just feel like a burden, a millstone hung around Owen’s neck, and he doesn’t even know it yet.

“Lady Willow and Ozork will ride out into the woods today,” he says suddenly, interrupting my brooding.

I half turn to face him and find myself staring up at his handsome face. “They are?”

His gaze drops briefly to my lips, then he looks up again. “I’ll be providing protection along with several of my men, but we don’t expect any trouble, not this far north, and not in this weather.” He pauses, then adds more softly, “Would you like to join us?”

“No,” I blurt.

He’s asking the impossible—I could never . As it is, I will now have to worry about his safety until he returns. It’s a treacherous terrain, the forest full of boulders and hidden holes. What if his horse gets spooked by a wolf and throws him off? What if he slips on ice and cracks his skull open?

There are so many ways to get hurt outside, and he’s human. They aren’t as sturdy as orcs, are they?

“Oh.” Owen pulls back, his face draining of color. “Of course. Forget I asked.”

He puts his cup back on the table but accidentally bumps the half-empty water jug with the quick movement. The water spills across the table, and Owen jumps to his feet, scrambling to mop it up with one of the cleaning cloths used to wipe the tables down after a meal.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes to the other orcs at the table. “How clumsy of me.”

“Owen…”

I reach out to touch his sleeve, and he jerks slightly, then looks down at me. His cheeks are pink again—he must be embarrassed by his clumsiness. And it is unusual for a man so in control of himself.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “It’s just…a bad time. I have work to do this morning.”

I don’t know why I’m softening the blow of my rejection. This is exactly what I’ve been trying to do, after all, push him away from me. But I can’t let him leave like this, thinking I’m so horrified at the thought of spending time with him that I’d half-shout my refusal.

“It’s all right,” he says, his words a little curt, though still polite. “I understand.”

But he doesn’t . Not at all. He doesn’t know he’s my mate and that I could never do anything to hurt him on purpose. Nor does he realize that I would love to go on a stroll with him, just not outside where anything could happen.

Before I can pluck up my courage and explain all this, another human soldier appears in front of us.

“Captain, we’re getting the horses ready. Do you want us to saddle Acorn or will you?” He’s already sweating in his thick winter coat. He wipes his brow, then adds, “He’s been fed and watered, but we know you prefer?—”

“I’ll be right there, Samm, I’ll do it,” Owen says quickly. “You go ahead, and I’ll follow.”

The soldier salutes him and leaves the way he came, into the corridor leading toward the front door of the Hill.

I press my lips together, fighting a smile.

Owen glowers down at me, then blows out a breath. “Come on, say it.”

“Is your horse’s name really Acorn?” I ask, grinning.

“My sister named him.” His lips curl up in a smile, and those dimples of his appear under his short beard. “I tried to call him other names, but she pouted every time, so the name finally stuck.”

If I wasn’t certain before he is a good man, this would have finally convinced me.

“How old is she?”

Owen pauses, his gaze on the ceiling. “Well, she’s sixteen now but she was eight when I got him.”

“Quite a bit younger than you, then.”

I don’t know why I’m still keeping him here, but now that he’s started talking about his family, I want to know more.

He cocks his head to the side. “Are you trying to find out my age, Mara?”

A flush works up my neck from the way he says my name. I don’t drop my gaze, though. “Possibly.”

“I turned thirty-one this summer,” he tells me softly. “So Alice was just a baby when I left for the Army. I don’t know her as well as I’d like, but I make an effort to stop by whenever I’m in town.”

So he has a family, people who are counting on him to return. He might even help support them with his captain’s wages.

“I’m an only child,” I blurt, suddenly wanting nothing more than to talk, talk, and talk some more. “And my name day is in the spring. I’ll be twenty-seven soon.”

He’s watching me with a bright expression I can’t name—but I want to stay right here, basking in his attention.

“Captain!”Samm, the soldier who came to fetch Owen earlier, is standing at the entrance to the great hall again, yelling for everyone to hear.”They’re ready to leave.”

Owen jerks to attention, then glances down at me. “I have to go.”

“Of course,” I say quickly. “Have a safe trip.”

His eyebrows twitch, the tiniest frown marring his expression, but his soldier is waving at him now. Owen gives me one last nod, brushes my arm in a featherlight caress, and leaves, marching out of the hall with long strides.

I realize I’m holding my breath, watching him leave. My hands shake lightly as I clasp them around my mug of tea and take a sip.

He’ll be all right .

I tell myself Owen is a trained soldier, a human well used to being outside. He must be a good horseman as well and will be riding his own horse, meaning he’s less likely to get thrown off than if he picked some young stallion from the clan’s stables. Besides, his men will be out there with him, as will Ozork, who surely won’t let anything to happen to anyone.

Still, I can’t stop thinking about Owen in the wild, frozen forest of Bellhaven, and all the dangers that could be preying on him. So I ask Jasmine to remain in the great hall, should anyone need help with day-to-day tasks, and head back to my room to grab a warm wool shawl. Then I make my way to the outer edge of the Hill, to the hall that houses our goats, chickens, and sheep. Their numbers are small because of how little space we have in the rooms facing the outside world—we keep larger flocks in the villages scattered throughout the kingdom.

I talk with the keepers there, discussing potential issues we could face over the winter, including the quantities of animal feed, our persistent mice problem, and the fact that some of the goats have figured out how to escape their pen and have been found wandering the corridors, leaving pungent piles of droppings everywhere.

But the real reason I’m here is the fact that the Hill’s stables are just down the hallway, housing a number of our clan’s horses, as well as our guests’ animals. Not many orcs like to ride, but we keep several beautiful workhorses that travel to Ultrup and back every summer with our caravans, as well as some faster animals for trips around the kingdom and urgent messenger rides.

I wander over to one of the windows and open the latch, letting a gust of frigid air into the room. The sky is overcast, a dull, steely gray. The light stings my eyes, so I have to squint at the clouds. If I knew more about the weather, I might be able to tell if snow is on the way. As it is, I inhale deeply, drawing the scent of pine trees and horses into my lungs.

It’s a beautiful view, the snow-covered forest quiet and peaceful. But it’s also vast, too open and unknown. The distant horizon isn’t even the end of our kingdom. I shiver, and it’s not all from the cold air swirling around me.

With trembling fingers, I shut the window again and turn away from it, breathing hard. Owen is out there somewhere, and I can’t reach him. Once he leaves, we’ll be separated by so much space , leagues of land and forest and mountains.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I force myself to push those thoughts away and rejoin the stable hands mucking out the still-empty stalls. I know I’m stretching out the limit of my time here when our conversation turns to hoof ointments—a topic I know nothing about. I might have to leave for the great hall and find Owen later to make sure he has returned safely instead of intercepting him at the stables.

Then a commotion at the door draws everyone’s attention. It’s the human soldiers returning, bringing in their animals who are snorting and sniffing at the hay bales stacked at the entrance.

“Hey, now.”

One of my clansmen jumps forward to take the reins of the first horse, and from there, they proceed in a more orderly fashion, the horses realizing that there’s hay in their stalls, too.

I count the soldiers returning from the cold—all men I’ve seen before in the past couple of days. One of them is leading two horses, his own and a smaller one that Willow must have ridden. It looks so dainty next to the big war horse that could only have been Ozork’s ride, it’s almost comical.

Still, there’s no sign of Owen. I scan the soldiers’ faces for any sign of distress. Surely they’d be more concerned if their captain had gotten hurt?

Another horse walks into the stables, and I recognize his handler immediately. Owen’s golden hair gives him away, even from a distance.

Something unlocks in my chest, a release of tension so powerful, I slap a hand over my mouth to stifle a sob.

He’s safe .

He went out and returned, just as he’d said.

A low groan escapes me, and I lean against an empty stall, my legs too wobbly to hold me up. At my movement, Owen glances up sharply. His gaze meets mine, and his blue eyes widen in surprise. Without pause, he brings his horse closer to me and stops several feet away.

“Hello, Mara.” He smiles then, his face lighting up. “What are you doing here?”

I take a deep breath to compose myself. “Would you believe me if I said I had urgent steward business at the stables?”

His clean scent invades my senses, and I move a step closer, heedless of the orcs and human soldiers milling nearby. They’re all busy with stabling the horses anyway, brushing them and drying their coats after the ride in the snow.

“I’d believe just about anything you say,” Owen murmurs, his smile turning wry. “But is it true?”

I press my lips together, fighting a grin, and shake my head. It’s enough of a confession, and Owen understands.

His gaze slips to my dress, running the length of my body, and all my senses wake up, my need for him flaring to life. The memory of last night’s kiss is so vivid, so colorful, I can’t push it down any longer. I’ve worked so hard to stay away from him that I thought I’d killed off this attraction, but perhaps it was merely dormant, lying in wait for the right moment. Now it burns, an impulse so strong, I sway on my feet, leaning toward him.

Owen’s lips part. He glances over his shoulder and tugs lightly on his horse’s reins to get the animal to step forward, obscuring us from view. Then he’s kissing me, a rough, carnal kiss that melts my defenses and has me clutching the front of his cloak, breathless and desperate for more. My tongue slides against his in a sensual caress that has him groaning softly. He brings his hand up to cup my cheek, and my heart melts a little more—he’s holding me so gently, but his kiss demands everything from me.

Abruptly, he breaks the kiss and steps back—just in time to accept a pair of horse brushes from one of the stable hands. I give him a wide-eyed look, and he snorts, dropping his gaze to his boots, but he seems pleased, and I can’t help but feel giddy, too, my body burning up.

“I need to brush Acorn,” he says, his voice deeper than before. “Would you like to help?”

I’ve never brushed a horse before—since I never go outside, I haven’t had the need. But I don’t want to leave Owen when I’ve only just got him back, so I accept one of the brushes and follow him and his horse into a stall.

“You’ll have to show me how,” I tell him.

Owen steps up behind me, puts his hand over mine on the brush, and brushes the horse in slow, circular motions. His body shifts behind me, his chest pressed to my back, and I catch him sniffing my hair when he thinks I’m not paying attention.

If I lean back just a little, craving his touch, I cannot be blamed for my actions.

“I think you’ve got the idea,” he says after a long moment, then drops a quick kiss on the side of my neck before stepping away. “You brush that side, and I’ll do his tail. He doesn’t like it when snow clumps in it, so it’s best if I do it quickly.”

I shut down the voice in my head yelling at me to kiss Owen again, and lose myself in the rhythm of brushing Acorn. He’s a calm animal and doesn’t mind me being a bit clumsy with him. Owen finishes his side much faster than me, then moves on to his tail and mane while Acorn munches on oats and hay.

“You’re doing good,” Owen says as he surveys my work, and my chest glows at his praise.He helps me finish up Acorn’s flank, then reaches into his pocket and pulls out an apple. “Here, you feed it to him. It’s his reward for being patient with us.”

I hold out the apple gingerly, worried Acorn might take a finger along with it, but the horse nuzzles my hand first, his big snout surprisingly delicate, then picks up the apple and eats it in a big gulp, his dark eyes glistening in the low light.

“You’ve made a friend.”

I turn to find Owen watching us, that half-smile of his curling his lips. There’s nothing special about the moment—he even smells lightly of horses and hay after his ride—but my breath catches in my throat at the sight of him.

He stares at me, then offers me his elbow. “Come on. There’s something I want to show you.”