Chapter 31

The firelight is cozy, the bed embraces me like a cloud, and no baby is going to wake me up. I should be sound asleep. I should be enjoying every second of Ursha's day off—our day off, since she gets to keep Eirik and I get to do nothing.

I hate it.

Everyone needs days off, even stay-at-home moms. As Thorn's nanny, he pays me and gives me days off.

Strangely, I can't wait until Eirik is back. His absence tugs at my heartstrings. The silence in the room—without the sound of his breathing and shuffling—is unsettling.

I can't sleep.

There's no way to get Eirik earlier—I don't know where Ursha lives and I'm sure she'd punch me if I showed up at her door. It's too late to take a walk outside and there's nothing else I could do to distract myself.

I roll to one side, then the other. Staring at the ceiling, I wonder if I should get a cup of tea. That could help.

The quiet blankets the clan house when I open the door. There's not even a guard stationed at my door. Weird. I curl my toes and glance down at my pajamas. Should I change?

No. Surely I won't meet anyone.

Barefoot, I pad down the torch-lit hallway. I successfully retrace my steps from the other day to the kitchen. The scent of dry herbs greets me when I step inside.

The cavernous room is blessedly deserted. I take a moment to admire the space. The immense fireplace is black after too many days with an ongoing fire. Pots and cauldrons hang from hooks. Polished stone counters glisten under the soft glow of the moon, filtering through the tall windows. The fire must have been put out hours ago, but the place is still warm. Herbs sit out on shelves and hooks, drying. My heart soars, anxious to explore.

"Couldn't sleep either?" The voice is deep, familiar, and utterly unexpected.

I spin around, my heart jumping in my throat. Thorn leans against the archway, muscular arms crossed over his chest. I try not to let my eyes linger on his defined pecs through his tunics.

"You're quiet for someone your size," I quip, my surprise making way for the butterflies in my stomach.

"Orcs have many talents," he says, lips stretching and his tusks catching the silvery light. Black eyes fasten on me.

This was just an innuendo in my head, I'm sure. Blood rushes into my cheeks.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, hoping he won't chide me for sneaking around the house.

Thorn pushes off the doorway. "I wanted to get something warm to drink. Saw you creeping down the hallway and decided to surprise you."

"I was not creeping."

"Sure looked like it."

"It's the middle of the night. I was just being quiet."

"Of course," he says with an irritating arch to his eyebrow. He picks up a pot. "Do you want the warm drink or not?"

"Wouldn't say no."

"Is that a yes, please where you come from?"

"No."

Thorn gathers some water and glances at me over his shoulder. Waiting.

I huff dramatically. "Fine. Yes, please, thank you, your majesty." And a part of me expects him to complain about the disrespect.

Thorn does the opposite. He turns away from me, but I swear I hear him chuckle. He places the pot on the stove and kneels to light it up.

"Should I... uh, should I do that for you?" I ask. It's so strange to see him—the literal orc king—kneeling next to a stove.

He shoots me a doubtful glance. "Why?"

"Because… uh, you're the king."

"And?" Thorn lights up the stove with practiced ease.

I shake my head. "Nothing." Kings here are clearly different from kings back home. "Where are you sleeping anyway?"

"Council room. Inner garden. Wherever i feel like."

I nod as I amble toward the shelves near the closest wall. There are rows of jars and bottles, each containing ingredients more fantastical than the last—dried petals with neon colors, roots that sparkle in the dark, and leaves that seem to shift in color.

"Did you enjoy your day off?" he asks as he gets to his feet and moves closer to the shelf.

I can't help but make a face. "Not really."

He shoots a glance my way as he picks up a jar. "Why not? Did someone bother you?"

"No. I just…" Well, there's no reason to lie. There's no point in trying to sound tough anymore. I'm stuck here either way. "I miss Eirik, to be honest," I admit, then add a weak laugh. "And other than taking care of him, there's nothing else to do."

"What did you do back home?"

"For a living? I baked."

Thorn tilts his head, then looks back at the stove. "And on your days off?"

"I had a bakery, so there was never a day off."

"Sounds like a lot."

"It wasn't. I really liked it."

He shifts his weight to look at me, his gaze softening. I wait for him to say something, but he doesn't. Finally, he turns back to the pot and starts adding some mysterious ingredients.

"Being king has no days off either," Thorn says. "I often wish I could have spent more time with my sister."

"What was her name?"

His shoulders grow stiff for a moment. My stomach tightens with fear that I have somehow offended him.

"Thistle," he says in a softer voice. "Her husband was called Krax. He was an outsider like you."

My brows shoot up. "A human?"

His long black hair sways when he shakes his head. "No. Orc. From the Wolfbone Clan."

I frown at his muscular back. This name. I heard this name before.

"Who are those again? The guys who attacked that night?"

"Yes. We are the Bearclaw Clan. They are the Wolfbone Clan."

Oh, so many things make sense now. The bear totems in the dining halls. The claw Thorn carries around his neck.

Wait. There's something else.

I gasp. "You mean… Your brother-in-law belonged to the enemy clan?"

"They were not our enemies then. Krax was a brave orc, and my sister loved him. I was against the match at first, but she insisted. He saved her from a pack of wolves once. That's why I caved." He takes a beat, the sound of a spoon scraping the bottom of the pot. "Krax defied Shagrat, who wouldn't let him leave. Not many orcs would have done that."

"Shagrat?" I ask in a lower voice, approaching Thorn from behind, step by step.

"Krax's father. The leader of the Wolfbone Clan." His jaw clenches. "I never thought he'd go as far as to kill his own son, let alone Thistle."

My stomach plummets. "He killed his own son?"

"Power can poison the mind," he goes on. "Shagrat has grown too ambitious, and that corrupted his heart. He now wants to end what he started. He's been after Eirik ever since, trying to erase his son's legacy."

My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. "This is horrible."

I get even closer, my hands itching to touch Thorn. My heart squeezes in pain for him. What a terrible thing to happen, even by monster standards.

And I know there's nothing I could do that would make him feel better. I can just open my chest the same way he did.

"Back home, I have no one left," I confess before I give up. "My parents... they died when I was young. I've been on my own since then. And I thought I would be alright because I had the village I was born in. I had the community." I shake my head, tears stinging the back of my eyes. "That's not what happened. Everyone treated me like an outsider, no matter how hard I tried."

He cocks his head. "Like an outsider? But you were born there."

"Yes, but I don't look like them."

"How do they look like?"

"They're white-skinned. Like Nell."

Thorn curls his upper lip, glancing sideways at me. "That's it? The color of your skin?"

"Yeah. It was enough for them to keep me at arm's length. Then two years ago, the mayor tried to use me in a magical ritual." I suck a breath in. Wow, I don't think I've ever said all this out loud. "He dragged me out of the bakery, tied me up. He was really going to do it. I was saved, but... not by my hometown. By another girl. An outsider, as you said. A girl the mayor tried to sacrifice a couple of weeks earlier." I catch my breath, surprised at myself for sharing this much.

Thorn whirls toward me, his brows raising. "Violet," he says, and there's something new in his voice—a tenderness I hadn't heard before. He raises a hand, then lets it drop. What was he going to do? "They tried to kill you?"

I nod, unable to say anything.

His shoulders droop. "This is nothing like my experience. Orcs take care of each other. You would have been taken care of if you were one of us."

My shoulders lift in a shrug. "But I'm not."

Thorn's eyes are a thunderstorm when I meet them. He stares at me, studying every inch of my face. A minute passes, then another. He doesn't reply.

The water boils. He serves two tankards. Steam curls from the surface, the scent a delicious mix of spices and herbs wafting up to me.

He steps closer. Even closer. His massive body towers over me, and I could touch him if I so wished. Thorn is huge when we stand like this. I have to tilt my head back to look up into his dark eyes. My pulse quickens.

Thorn offers me a tankard. I swallow hard, then accept it. The warmth spreads through my fingers. Thorn doesn't move away.

"Careful, it's hot," he murmurs, his voice rasping down my spine, leaving goose bumps behind.

I nod, our eyes locking, the air between us charged. Thorn seems to struggle to step back, but he does, creating a space that suddenly feels too wide, too empty.

The way he looks at me has changed. I swear it. His eyelids droop. I don't think anyone has ever looked at me like this.

"Since we're here," he says, the breaking of the silence making my heart jump. "Why don't you show me some of your cooking skills?"

His words filter through the fog in my brain. I blink twice, then lower the mug.

"You want to try my cooking skills?"

He nods. "Yeah. Why don't you bake something?"

Adrenaline rushes through me. The thrill of baking again, and in a place with new ingredients, makes me vibrate. My eyes go wide.

"Really? I thought you didn't want me to cook."

He shrugs. "I changed my mind."

I would like to say I'm acting very collected, but that would be a lie. The mug goes over the counter next to Thorn and I start around the kitchen, pointing at different ingredients and asking about them. Thorn lets me taste some, then explains others. I mentally find correlations to the ingredients from back home.

And I know I might look silly, talking too loud, walking too fast, but it's been forever since I last cooked. I thought I would never do it again.

It's hard to fight the grin on my face. And when I look back at Thorn, I catch his lips stretched over his tusks more than once. He hides the smile every time I turn to him, but I'm fast enough to catch it a couple of times.

The butterflies in my stomach go wild. And I don't even mind that it's because of a monster.