Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

W ulf closed the heavy wooden door, shutting out the shouts of drunken revelry from the Hall beyond, and turned to face the male who had preceded him into the smaller chamber. Cold stone walls held winter’s chill but a blazing fire added welcome warmth. King Ulric shrugged off his ceremonial furs and took the seat next to the fire without looking at Wulf. The flickering firelight revealed the worried lines etched into his face and the strands of silver glinting in his dark hair. He was only a few years older than Wulf but the pressures of his troubled kingdom lay heavy on his shoulders.

Servants had left ale and meat pastries but both males ignored them. For a long moment the only sound was the crackle of the fire, but the frustration that Wulf had bottled up during the king’s announcement finally exploded.

“You can’t do this, Ulric.”

The king sighed. “It’s already done. The ship will be here in the spring. You seem to be the only one unhappy about the news.”

He gestured to the Hall and the muffled sound of cheers.

Wulf started pacing, the room too small to contain his anger. “But-“

“We knew this day would come as soon as we decided to stop sending our warriors to the High King’s service.”

Ulric still wasn’t looking at him, choosing to stare into the fire instead.

“We didn’t realize that Lasseran would make it quite so difficult to obtain our brides.”

The king shrugged and finally met his gaze.

“We should have done. He wants control and if he can’t control our warriors as part of his army, he will control us by removing the possibility of brides. You were one of the strongest voices for the ban. Are you changing your mind now?”

“No. It was the right decision.”

Wulf didn’t have any doubts about it, despite the current crisis. Not only had High King Lasseran started trying to use the orc warriors that Norhaven sent to him against the other citizens of the Five Kingdoms, he had started separating them, sending them on increasingly dangerous assignments alone. Too few of them returned. A glorious death in battle was all a warrior could ask for, but the few reports that had filtered back had suggested that the deaths had been anything but honorable.

Ulric nodded. “I agree that it was the only decision we could make. But now we’re paying the price.”

Wulf took one more circuit around the room before flinging himself into the chair on the other side of the fire. He poured both of them a tankard of ale from the waiting pitcher and took a moody swig.

“And as a consequence, now we have to resort to buying slaves?”

“There will be no slaves in Norhaven.” As Wulf opened his mouth, Ulric added, “Jesamin said her father assured her that the women would come willingly.”

Wulf gave a derisive snort and noticed that Ulric’s eyes had moved back to the fire.

“Do you really believe that? After Lasseran has spent the past ten years openly vilifying us as uncontrollable savages? And probably another ten years prior to that spreading more subtle poison? The women of the Kingdoms are terrified of us.”

“Perhaps. And perhaps Almohad has fought that prejudice.” Ulric sighed. “Either way, I don’t have a choice. Every year more men are reaching maturity, without the hope of a bride. The discipline we have to instill has helped but we are warriors. We need to fight and we need a bride to soften our anger.”

A crash reverberated through the room as a body was flung against the door and the noise in the Hall escalated briefly. Both of them ignored it.

“The younger men grow increasingly resentful that they do not have the opportunity to find a bride.” Ulric looked directly at him. “And of those who had the opportunity and squandered it.”

It was his turn to look away. Before the ban, he had served in the High King’s army for five years and he had enjoyed many women, but he had not returned home with a bride as his duty demanded. When the orcs of Norhaven had accepted the Beast Curse in order to save the Five Kingdoms, they had not realized the full price they would pay. In the two centuries since that time, fewer and fewer children had been born. Of those few, an even smaller number were female. The first born child was never female and many females only bore one child. Service in the High King’s army allowed them to meet females from all over the Five Kingdoms and it was expected that a warrior would return home with a bride. It wasn’t an ideal situation but it worked.

But twenty years ago, Lasseran had assumed the throne. As his oppression and cruelty increased, Norhaven had decreased the number of warriors that were sent to him each year. A year ago they had decided to stop completely. In retaliation, the High King had done everything in his considerable power to make sure that eligible women did not make their way to Norhaven. Wulf hadn't anticipated how limited his choices would be once he returned home, but he didn't think it would have made any difference.

“I never felt a mate bond,” he said finally.

“It’s not a requirement for taking a wife.” Ulric's voice was carefully neutral.

He sent his king – his friend – a sympathetic glance. As King, Ulric had not had a choice. He had arranged a marriage to Jesamin, one of the daughters of the Priest King of Almohad, and she would be arriving with the other brides in the spring. It was an advantageous match and from everything he had heard Jesamin was a beautiful female, but it was a political arrangement, not a true bond.

“And if these females are not willing? Will you let them leave?”

Ulric’s silence was answer enough. Wulf fought back a bitter protest and tried another argument. “Even if these women accept their fate, it won’t be enough. How many are coming? A hundred? For how many warriors?”

“They will be the first. If this works, there will be more.”

“You can tell them that.” Wulf gestured to the door and the Hall beyond. “Let them distract themselves with the idea of achieving glory in the Trials and thoughts of females as a reward. But we both know it won’t be enough.”

“And what do you propose? Fight our way through the army Lasseran has stationed at the Fanged Gate?” The Fanged Gate was the only major pass into the rest of the Kingdoms and the High King had gradually increased the forces stationed there over the years until it represented a formidable obstacle. “Then fight our way across the Kingdoms alone and defeat him?”

“Del would support us,” Wulf said with a confidence he did not feel. The Kingdom of Del had as little love for Lasseran as Norhaven did but they preferred to keep to their Plains and their horses and ignore the politics of the more central lands.

“Would they?” Ulric arched a brow. “Even if they did, it wouldn’t be enough. The Old Kingdom grows more farmers than warriors, and the warriors they do raise fight in Lasseran’s army. The Makurrans will side with Lasseran because he is their King as well as the High King. The best we can hope for with Almohad is that they will remain neutral. They argue that he has kept to the letter of the agreement. He sends females.”

“Prostitutes, you mean.” Wulf muttered. “Barren prostitutes.”

“I’ve noticed,” Ulric said grimly.

Wulf wondered how many others had. None of the token number of females that Lasseran allowed to enter the kingdom had ever given birth. Some had married, apparently happily despite their background, and some had chosen to continue their former profession, but not one had produced a child.

The silence was broken by a log falling in the fireplace. Ulric sighed. “Are you really advocating civil war, Wulf?”

“No.” He stood up, driven to pacing once more. “But there must be an answer. Something other than bringing in a shipload of slaves – of females – for our men to fight over. It goes against every tradition we have. How can you do this?”

“Because I don’t have a choice, Wulf.” Ulric’s temper finally snapped. He stood and faced him, the familiar signs of the Curse appearing as his eyes turned completely black. “We must have brides and we must have children. Unless you have another answer, I expect you to keep your doubts to yourself and support me. I am your king.”

Wulf felt the Curse rising inside him in answer to the challenge. The two men stood face to face, their breathing harsh in the quiet room. They had fought before in training and he knew they were evenly matched. For a single moment Wulf considered it before shaking his head and using all of the discipline he learned to push down his anger. Even if Ulric had not been his friend, the last thing he wanted was to become king. He was content with his small holding and his position as advisor.

“Yes, sire.” Fighting his impulses, he forced his eyes to drop.

After a tense moment, the king laughed ruefully and clapped him on the shoulder, a friendly blow that would have dropped a lesser man.

“Come, my friend, let us return to the Hall. Such a serious conversation is best followed by large quantities of ale.” Ulric picked up his furs and turned to leave. Hand on the door, he hesitated. “You could enter the Trials, you know.”

Wulf fought down a confusing surge of desire and disgust and forced himself to answer quietly. “No. You were right, I had my chance.”

With a nod, the king accepted his words and opened the door.

I will never fight to take a slave , he thought as he followed his king into the raucous gathering, but does that mean I am condemned to loneliness forever?