Chapter 10

10

E ben ended up bloody and bent-over in the dyflissa , gasping and shivering and begging for more. Offering it up to any orc who wanted it, any orc who would fill him, flay him, force him to forget.

And though it was pain, and perhaps more humiliation, Eben couldn’t stop. Couldn’t bear to be empty, to lose that raw, reassuring certainty of a strong, hard prick plunged deep inside him. He was safe, like this. He was already full, already in pain. And despite how it looked, how it felt, there was still the awareness, low and fundamental, that he was still in control. If he wanted it to stop, it would, and every Ka -esh in the room would defend this, and hurl the offending orc out at once. Eben still held the power. The right to do this, to be this, to be a foolish, weeping orc who could take a half-dozen loads, and keep begging for more.

“ Mayhap you ought to rest for a spell, Eben ,” a breathless Gareth finally said, once he’d emptied himself for the second time, and had begun gently licking at the fresh wounds on Eben’s burning, aching back. “ These are not healing as they should, ach?”

Eben’s rebellion surged up before he could stop it, escaping in a low growl from his mouth — but Gareth just kept licking, kissing, even as his claws sank into Eben’s hips. Knowing full well that Eben had never been able to refuse that heady, perfect blend of pain and tenderness, and Eben was already wilting beneath it, sagging weakly against the wall before him. And perhaps finally feeling the true extent of that pain, blaring across his back, and still coiling deep and despairing in his belly.

Foolish . Never trust a Skai .

“ Come , then,” came Gareth’s low, soothing voice, as he nudged something soft — Eben’s abandoned trousers — into his slack hand. “ Rest for a spell, and come back tomorrow, if you yet need this relief.”

Eben couldn’t find the will to argue, and he suddenly felt so, so tired, worn and ragged and aching all over. And even putting on his trousers was far too difficult, and he was distantly, fervently grateful for Gareth’s firm hand on his arm, holding him upright. And once Eben had finally managed it, Gareth pulled on his own trousers, passed Eben his tunic — which he would otherwise have fully forgotten — and guided him toward the door.

Eben went without looking, without scenting, with only more deep, dragging gratefulness toward Gareth , and a vague nattering dread of how much he would regret this tomorrow. And it wasn’t until they were in the corridor that he suddenly scented — something. Something that didn’t at all belong, and Eben’s breath drew in, his bleary eyes snapping open, and finding —

Tryggr . Tryggr , standing here in the Ka -esh corridor, and staring at him.

Eben froze all over, alarm screeching through his chest — Skai never came here, he was supposed to be safe here. And curse him, he wasn’t wearing his tunic, and even if Tryggr hadn’t been able to scent the fresh blood and seed all over Eben’s tired, trembling body, he now had a full-on view of it, his eyes narrowing as they rapidly ran up and down Eben’s torso. And then shifting even darker as they darted toward Gareth , who was still holding Eben by the elbow.

“ Who the hell are you?” Tryggr snapped at Gareth , his voice sharper than Eben had yet heard it. “ An ’ where are you taking him?”

Eben blinked, as more confused alarm juddered through his exhausted body, but beside him, Gareth stayed solid and steady, without even a trace of fear in his scent. “ I am Gareth — or oft, Gary ,” he replied mildly. “ And I am only taking him to his room.”

Tryggr’s narrow gaze snapped back to Eben , as if wanting him to confirm the accuracy of this claim — and somehow, Eben nodded. Nodded , holding his wide eyes to Tryggr’s , needing him to understand, to agree. And he was vaguely surprised to see Tryggr’s eyes softening in return, his swallow bobbing in his throat.

“ Ach , I see,” he said thickly, as he ran a hand against his bound-back hair. “ Didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll leave you be, then, Ka -esh, and find you another time.”

He was already backing away, about to leave, no, no — and Eben lurched forward, out of Gareth’s grip. “ Wait ,” he croaked, as a hazy awareness finally whirled in his brain, because Tryggr had to have news, right? “ Is Alma well? Did they bring her back?”

Tryggr’s gaze had again darted sideways, toward Gareth — who was already backing toward the dyflissa , his hands upraised. “ Only call if you need me, brother,” he said to Eben , a little too smoothly. “ And sleep well, ach?”

Eben rapidly nodded, and couldn’t help a grateful, genuine smile toward him, and a quick wave farewell. But once he turned back to Tryggr again, he found him still looking decidedly unsettled, and frowning darkly at where Gareth had gone.

“ Is aught — amiss, then?” Eben croaked, into the stilted silence, as the alarm shuddered back through his chest. “ Is Alma lost? Or harmed?”

Tryggr’s lean body twitched, his gaze snapping back to Eben’s face — and again, brief but unmistakable, down to his bare, sweaty, bloody chest. “ No , they found her,” he said, on a heavy exhale. “ She’s back in the sickroom now, and Boss is with her. He’s gonna make her an offer, I ken, to make sure she stays put, where we can keep an eye on her. Not safe for her to be running about thus, ach?”

Eben couldn’t even pretend to hide the surprise in his scent — Drafli was now going to make Alma an offer , to keep her here? To keep her safe, after all that? But there was again no trace of guile in Tryggr’s scent, and it distantly occurred to Eben that if Drafli truly still wanted Alma dead, it would have been far easier to let her keep running, and then to stage some convenient accident afterwards… right?

Never trust a Skai , the voice was droning again, but Tryggr was still here, shifting on his feet, and thrusting something into Eben’s arms. Something Eben hadn’t even noticed him carrying, and when he blinked downwards, he found himself holding a small cloth sack, full of — fresh fruit ?

“ An ’ just — wanted to be sure you were — all good,” Tryggr said, with a grimace. “ Didn’t feel right, leaving you how I did. ’ Specially after you went outta your way to help, and find me, even after that scum Skaap —”

He broke off there, glowering beyond Eben up the corridor, his hands flexing at his sides. “ Reported him to Boss and Simon , by the way, after a chat with my Pa ,” he said flatly. “ The clan’s gonna deal with him, ach?”

Something swerved in Eben’s belly, because oh, Tryggr hadn’t truly done that, for him ? But wait, curse it, Eben didn’t want to cause any trouble, either. Didn’t want to be responsible for any kind of retaliation whatsoever, and what if this Skaap decided to take it out on Eben , or gain revenge, or — or —

But wait, Tryggr had lurched closer, and clasped his hand to Eben’s shoulder. “ Naught to fear, Ka -esh,” he said, low and firm. “ It’s got naught now to do with you, and we just don’t want it to happen again, ach? We can’t have it being dangerous for someone to come bring us an urgent message, affecting our own kin. Boss never woulda forgiven himself if that woman had come to harm running alone out there, ach? Most of all if he’d known you were trying to get word to him, but couldn’t, because you got attacked by a so-called brother instead.”

His eyes on Eben’s had darkened again, his hand tightening on his shoulder. “ It was good of you, Ka -esh,” he said, low. “ Good of you, and brave as hell, too. You ever even walk in that arena before? Or witness a proper brawl?”

Eben shook his head, betraying a faint wince, because again, it was so weak, so foolish, he was supposed to be a medic, wasn’t he? “ N -not — thus,” he confessed. “ I mean — I have attended skirmishes and battlefields, afterwards, to offer care when it is needed. But I have never been sent into — the full midst of this.”

And truly, it was a gift that the war with men had been over for most of Eben’s time as a medic, because what would he have done, if he’d needed to go straight into a pitched battle? What would he have done if Efterar had even decided to send him into that arena, rather than going himself?

“ Well , we’re grateful, Ka -esh,” Tryggr said, his eyes flinty on Eben’s face. “ You didn’t need to do it, and you did it anyway, even when it couldn’a been easy for you. When it coulda harmed you.”

An odd ripple snaked up Eben’s spine, and he swallowed, attempted a smile. “ I was glad to help,” he said thickly. “ And I am — quite all right, of course.”

But Tryggr’s eyes had again flicked down Eben’s front, toward the sweat and scratches and blood. Almost as clear as if he’d spoken his doubt aloud, and Eben drew in breath, cleared his throat. “ This was just — for pleasure,” he said, with a vague, shaky wave toward the dyflissa up the corridor. “ Ka -esh oft do this, for it is an easy way to clear one’s thoughts, and forget —”

But wait, curse him, why was he saying this, betraying this, before this orc, of all orcs — but it was too late, and that was far too much awareness, shifting across Tryggr’s watching eyes. “ Seems like a lot to forget, though, if it takes what, eight orcs to do it?” he asked, his voice light. “ An ’ what’s this from, a lash?”

His claw had very lightly reached to touch Eben’s chest, brushing against — Eben’s wide eyes darted downwards — oh. Where the whip had very clearly curled around his torso, and drawn a vivid line against his skin, still seeping dark red blood. And wait, was Tryggr judging him, and had it really been eight orcs, and Tryggr could smell that, and —

The humiliation burned up into Eben’s face, roiling hard and sick in his belly, and he needed to leave, needed to escape, run as deep as he could — but Tryggr’s other hand was still clasping his shoulder, holding him here, where he could judge him, and mock him. And all that was left was for Eben to force his face up, to hold his blinking, miserable eyes to Tryggr’s face.

“ As if you have any right to judge me?” his thin voice demanded, harsh in his throat. “ How many weakened orcs do you take in that arena, or mayhap in the corridors, once you have gained their defeat?”

He knew it was unfair even as he spoke it, but the sickness and exhaustion were still curdling in his belly, his vision flooded with images of Tryggr laughing with that Skai orc, pinning him down, driving his scarred swollen prick into him with such smooth, confident ease. And Eben wasn’t jealous, he was not , and —

And wait, Tryggr was reeling backwards, away, his expression stunned, almost hurt. “ This has naught to do with their defeat,” he hissed back. “ It’s only what Skai oft do, when we wish for release. And I ken it’s better than running a blood-soaked rut upon a weak small Ka -esh, and wielding a lash against him, when he’s yet reeking of fear and despair!”

Oh . Oh , no. No , no, no. A weak small Ka -esh. Reeking of fear and despair. And the pain cracking through Eben’s chest was far worse than his stinging back, or his aching, burning arse. He couldn’t bear to let Tryggr see him weep, not again, please, please —

But Tryggr was seeing it, he was staring at Eben with more judgement in his eyes, and with something almost like — like contempt. Contempt toward Eben , for his size, his weakness, his fear, his despair…

Never trust a Skai , his father’s grating voice shouted, run as deep as you can — and this time, Eben was listening. Listening , weeping, as he whirled away, covered his face, and ran.