Chapter 23

One moment, I'm twerking very badly to the song Eirik and I are singing together—or me singing and Eirik babbling and clapping his hands—and the next moment, the door swings open without warning, swinging on its hinges hard until it slams against the wall.

I jump so high, I swear my feet leave the ground.

My last chat with Thorn is still fresh in my mind—how they're being attacked by this other clan—so my first reaction is to throw myself at the child and spread my arms to protect him.

A female orc strides in, all tall and imposing, with her red hair intricately braided and an annoyed look on her face.

I remember her. She was there, in the woods, when Thorn found me. And after that, too, on my first day as a nanny.

She looks as eager to filet me as she did the first night.

I've barely eaten breakfast—which I learned that orcs do with sunrise—and she's already annoyed at me. It's impressive.

She stops near the bed and makes a show of crossing her (very toned, beautifully tattooed) arms over her chest. She gives me a once-over. Self-awareness prickles down my spine. I must look ridiculous wearing my flannel pajamas, with arms wide open in front of the crib. I drop the stance, warmth rushing to my face.

"I'm taking the next guard shift," she says, her voice dragging in boredom.

"Good morning to you, too," I say, arching an eyebrow. "Ursha, isn't it? Are you sure you want that? You don't look too happy."

She narrows her eyes back at me and stalks closer. I can imagine she has ten different curses to spit at me, if I'm lucky.

She's much taller than me, as is every other orc, but she's got a bloodlust in her eyes that should frighten me. She could chew me and spit me out and I'd have no chance.

I would make it hell either way.

Something switched inside me. After spending my life trying to please people and failing terribly—to the point of almost being sacrificed—I decided not to give a shit. It feels like life doesn't care. Whatever I do, I'm screwed.

I tried to save a child and where did that get me? In another world, with monsters who could end me with the flick of a wrist. That's my reward.

Ursha seems to give up on killing me—maybe she doesn't want to tell Thorn about the blood stain on his nice rugs. Her dark red eyes flick at me once more before she stalks closer.

For a moment, I think she's coming at me. But no. Her eyes are on Eirik. I step away, giving her space.

The moment she turns her back, I let go of a breath. The way my heart races is not because I have a girl crush, though. Ursha has some serious murderous vibes.

And I don't have much sense of self-preservation because irritation prickles down my spine when I glance at the door, still open.

Did she have to barge in unannounced, like she owns the place? Couldn't she have knocked? It's like Ursha's trying to make a point that she hates my presence.

She peers down at Eirik, her eyes narrowing. Eirik blows raspberries at her. She arches an eyebrow and slides me another annoyed glance.

Oh, have I corrupted the child by teaching him to blow raspberries? The urge to roll my eyes is overwhelming, but I don't want to die, so I hold back.

Ursha reaches out, grabbing Eirik's small hands and flipping his palms up. She checks each finger and each toe as if making sure I haven't eaten anything.

My jaw clenches.

She doesn't trust me alone with Eirik; that much is clear. Probably thinks a mere human can't be trusted with any living thing. That I'm so useless that a single day in my presence would mean his death. Never mind that I'm the one who followed his cries through a literal magical portal to rescue him.

But I don't get it. If she doesn't want me with her baby, then why doesn't she keep him? I get that she must work, like many moms do, but I haven't seen her in, what, three days?

I watch as Ursha fusses with Eirik's onesie, fixing it around him with a familiarity that makes me wonder. What is her relationship to the baby?

And to the king?

Thorn is the chief and Eirik is somehow important to him. Important enough that Eirik sleeps in Thorn's room. But Eirik is also important to Ursha. So, are they the parents?

Ursha does look comfortable around the room. Does she spend a lot of time in Thorn's chambers? Are they... together?

An ugly feeling tugs at my stomach. Something bitter makes my lips curl down. Is that where Thorn's staying, then? With Ursha, in her bedroom?

I shake my head. None of my business. I'm just a temporary guest here until I can find my way home. And even if I had to stay, it's not as if Thorn owes me anything. There's no reason to feel anything other than annoyance.

"Thorn's been away hunting for two days now," Ursha says, straightening up from the crib to face me. "Someone has to make sure the prince is being properly cared for. Since that useless Gorbag couldn't give me satisfactory answers, I've come myself."

The prince. Okay. Okay, we have some answers. Eirik is either Thorn's son or, at least, his heir.

I prop my hands to my hips, ignoring the fact I'm still in my pajamas while Ursha's looking great wearing dark red leather pants and a matching top. She knows she looks hot.

"Gorbag didn't have anything to tell you because nothing is happening. What did you expect? A complete health check?"

"Absolutely," she says without missing a beat.

"He's fine. And I am perfectly capable of taking care of him." I raise an eyebrow at her. Why does it feel like I'm never done proving myself?

"Up!" Eirik interrupts, his chubby green arms reaching for me from the crib. "Up!"

I can't help but smirk a little as I rush over and scoop him into my arms. No matter what Ursha thinks of my babysitting skills, at least Eirik likes me.

Ursha's mouth thins into a tight line as she watches Eirik snuggle against me. Her upper lip curls as if she had bitten into a lemon. I bite my tongue to keep myself from laughing, but the smirk on my face? Impossible to stop it.

She obviously can't complain when Eirik is so glad to be with me. No matter how much she wants to.

And maybe I should use that to my advantage.

Aside from the internet, there's one huge thing I miss, which is a shower. The door next to the dresser gives into a built-in bathroom with a squat board for the toilet and a sink. From the distant sound of rushing water when I open the toilet, I believe the hole gives straight into some sort of stream.

There is plumbing, though, because the tap works just like back home. There's also a small lever next to the squat board that activates a water jet that made me jump out of my skin. Pretty useful once you get used to it.

But there's no shower.

I open a forced smile. "You know, I noticed you have some plumbing for the toilet. Maybe I could bathe him while you're here."

Ursha arches an eyebrow. "I can do that." She offers her hands. "Here. I'll take him."

I tighten my arms around Eirik. "Why don't you send it here? I'd like a bath, too."

Ursha stares at me as if a second head had sprouted from between my shoulders. "You haven't bathed."

"No."

"Since you arrived?"

Heat rushes to my face. "No! I'm a prisoner, remember?"

Ursha makes a face as if being clean is a duty for any prisoner. She glances over her shoulder toward the door. I wonder if Gorbag was supposed to take care of that.

"You're no prisoner," she says. "Last I heard, prisoners went into cells and weren't paid for babysitting. You're merely under supervision. Which I disagree with."

I want to make a sarcastic comment—I didn't notice you disagreed with my presence!—but I keep it behind my teeth because I still want that bath.

She lets her hands drop and a slow smile stretches her lips over her tusks. I don't like that.

"You know what?" she says, so cheerful that it sounds threatening. "I'll show you how we bathe, then. Come along, human."

Somehow, this doesn't feel like a victory.