Chapter 10

Dura

T he quiet is too tense for me. I say, “I didn’t know.”

“What?” he asks, not following me.

“I wasn’t lying before,” I elaborate. “The last I heard, the plan was to kill both the king and the queen. I didn’t know she still lived.”

“I know,” is all he says in reply.

“I would have told you,” I insist. “I wouldn’t have tortured you like that.”

“I know ,” he repeats, emphasis on the second word. “I did not think you had.”

Well. Good, I suppose. But what now? If I don’t have to worry about his safety or Rognar’s, I should release him. Especially considering the fact that his parents are gone. He probably has duties and responsibilities that he needs to address in the aftermath of their executions. Maybe even emotional distress to work through; though it sounds like his parents were villains, he may still have complicated feelings about their demise. Going home would help with that. My Mating Instinct howls, hating that idea. It wants him to stay with us, always. But, ignoring my primal instincts, I know it is not worth having a mate that doesn’t want me back.

I open my mouth to say so, when he bolts the door behind him and walks to the bed, glancing at the pitcher and basin on the bedside table.

“Well, I suppose we should get ready to sleep. I’m exhausted.”

What? Is he so tired that he doesn’t realize what this means? He’s free. Or maybe he is still thinking that I mean to kill innocent people if he leaves me.

“I was bluffing,” I blurt out. He turns and looks at me, a question in his eyes. I charge on, “When I said that I would kill people if you left. I was bluffing. I didn’t want you to leave and seek your revenge, so I lied. I wouldn’t have hurt anyone, even if you left.” I would have just hunted him down again, but I don’t say that bit.

“Good to know,” he responds, then turns and pours some water into the basin. Taking the cloth folded next to it, he starts washing his face.

Infuriating, insufferable human. Will he not get what I am telling him without me saying it outright?

“I release you,” I grind out. It’s harder to say than I thought. My Mating Instinct growls and snarls, extremely unhappy. “You can go. Go find your sister and be with her again, or go reclaim your family’s lands or whatever you want to do.”

“I know,” he says again. If he keeps saying I know , in that calm, knowing tone of voice, I might attack him.

“If you know,” I counter, “why are you still here?”

He turns around, fresh-faced, and says, “When my sister was married to King Yorian, he hurt her.”

Everything in me goes still. What ?

He continues, “I couldn’t prove it, but I knew. I knew my sister, I knew all the signs. You see, she is my adoptive sister and my parents used to be cruel to her as well, which is why I am not surprised they tried to be cruel to her as an adult. So I know how my sister acts when she is hurt and trying to hide it, how she hides her fear behind an icy demeanor. I knew that the king I served was beating the sister I loved and I could do nothing.”

I don’t know why he is telling this story, but I am enthralled. This is my first authentic look at my Ash’ka , without vengeance and enmity between us. “Why?” I ask, “Why could you do nothing? Why didn’t you kill him?” Was he scared of being executed after the act? But that doesn’t hold up to what I know about Marvik. I saw him face his death before and he was at peace with it.

He sits on the bed, looking up at me and replies, “When a soldier is chosen to join the Blue Guard, the king’s guard, he must make an oath. An oath to protect Yorian from all danger, to never let him come to harm, even by inaction. I thought, at the time, that the wording was strange, but formal oaths can be stilted in their diction. It wasn’t until after I had made the oath that I realized he had tricked me into a Midnight Oath, a promise that is enforced with a curse. Even thinking about breaking the oath, thinking of hurting my king, caused me pain, like a hand squeezing around my heart. I would not have been able to kill him before the curse took hold and killed me instead. Then everyone would know what I had attempted, and the one left to shoulder my blame would have been Adalind.”

A memory comes to the surface. “So when we were fighting at the fort and you said that you couldn’t let me kill the king . . .”

He nods. “I literally couldn’t. If I could have surrendered and saved my men and handed you the king, I would have, with no hesitation.”

“And the reason you knew Yorian was dead was . . .”

“. . . because I could think of killing him and no pain came to me. I was free from the curse.”

Fuck me . I had known that Yorian was a worm, a coward, and a poor commander. I had experienced all that during the war. But to go this far, to trust his personal knights so little, shows how corrupt he truly was.

Marvik keeps talking. “I had to live for years, protecting my sister’s abuser, watching as she became a shadow of her true self. I love my sister. It was the worst kind of torment to experience that. So when you told me that your king had killed her, for the sins of the king that tortured her, I lost all reason. I couldn’t save her from Yorian, but I could make your king pay. My vengeance was worth my honor.”

I am reeling from his revelations, and I feel, for the first time, that I really understand the human. If someone hurt my parents or my cousin and all I could do was stand by and watch, I would go insane. And if they were killed . . . there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to avenge them.

Still, I don’t know why he’s telling me all this until he says, “But I don’t have to worry about that now. Your king . . . he is a good orc?”

“The best,” I reply.

“Will he take care of Adalind? Be faithful to her? Treat her as an equal?”

“My king has long wanted a mate to be his equal,” I tell him. “I have no doubt that he will treat his queen well, as an honorable orc ought to. His own mother was killed by his abusive father and Rognar always swore to be the opposite of his hated progenitor.”

“Then my vengeance is no more and I am free to follow my honor. Honor dictates that I owe you a life debt and I aim to stay by your side until it is repaid.”

My blood freezes at his words. I don’t want an Ash’ka that is with me only out of duty. It is almost more painful than having an Ash’ka that is my enemy.

“Like I said, I release you,” I say emphatically. “Your life debt is void. I was the reason you were dying in the first place and you saved me from the werewolf, besides. You do not need to stay with me.” I will just go through life loveless and alone, a hermit somewhere remote where I can live with my disappointments and my sins.

“Nevertheless,” he responds, “I will stay with you.”

I don’t even know what to say to that. I look at him silently. He gazes back at me and takes a breath. “Well, like I said, we should sleep. Unless you want to eat? We’ve been up since noon yesterday. ”

Wordlessly, I reach out a hand and he passes me one of the meat pies that he is still carrying, before putting the others on the bedside table. I take a bite and almost moan at the meat and potatoes and spices that flood my tongue. It’s unbelievably better than my cooking in the forest. I polish it off in a few bites, even though eating so quickly might give me a stomachache later. Fine, we’ll play it his way. There’s plenty of time to revisit this topic later when I am not exhausted.

“I’ll sleep by the door,” I offer, heading over to the floor and licking the crumbs off my fingers.

He stands up off the bed and argues, “There’s no way I am letting a lady sleep on the floor.”

I raise a brow at him, “ Now I’m a lady? Just give me a pillow and I’ll have more than I did in the cave.”

He blushes, an interesting expression to see on his normally impassive face. “Yes, well, I think it’s been established that I’ve been wrong about my treatment of you for the last month. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

I snort. “You are the one recovering from an injury. You take the bed. I’ll be fine.”

“I am well-recovered from my injury. You don’t even use your healing on me anymore.”

That is true, but it is also true that he pushed himself all night and he’s still not at his strongest.

I sigh in annoyance. “Well, what are we going to do? There’s only one bed.”

Marvik looks thoughtful, then says, “We’re both soldiers. I’m sure we’ve both had to sleep in close quarters before. We can share the bed. It looks roomy enough.”

My eyes dart to the bed. It’s a large four-poster that is pushed against the far wall. It does look big enough for two people, but again, this sounds like a trap. Like he’s merely telling me what he thinks I want to hear again. I surreptitiously sniff, but his scent is clean, straightforward, no bitter hint of deception. Still, I don’t trust it. Humans are good at half-truths and those are harder to smell. He says that he wants to stay with me, but before I was sure he had a plan to betray me. He doesn’t need to if he wants to leave now, and I don’t think he’s the type to betray me out of spite, but what if I’m wrong?

I am too weary for all these questions. I wish I had some bloodroot to chew to give me strength and clear my fatigue so that I can keep arguing. But I don’t and I can’t, even with my suspicion.

“Fine,” I snap. “But I sleep on the side closest to the door.” That way I’ll know if he tries to leave while I sleep.

He gives a small smile, the first I have ever seen on his lips. It makes his normally handsome face even more inviting, but I am merely more annoyed. I’m glad my wariness amuses him , I think sarcastically.

“Very well,” he agrees, still smiling. He moves to the window, drawing the curtains. They are not the thickest material and there’s still a fair bit of sunshine in the room, but I am too tired to care. Marvik kicks off his boots and starts pulling off his tunic.

“The tunic stays on,” I say sharply, alarm coursing through me. I don’t need my Mating Instinct to get the wrong idea.

Now his smile grows. Insufferable . But he lets the tunic fall back into place and shrugs. He climbs into the bed and then pats the space next to him invitingly.

“Stay on your side,” I half-growl. This is a bad idea, but again, I am too tired to think of another solution.

Marvik straightens, laying in a stiff line so that he is on the far side of the bed. Taking off my amulet, I place it on the windowsill so that it can recharge when the moon comes out. Then, cautiously, I take off my own boots and climb in after him. I stay as far from him as I can and lay down. Paradise . It’s been so long since I’ve slept anywhere but propped up on a stone wall. I close my eyes and almost soon as I have, I am asleep.

?? ?

I am very warm, a tight embrace around me. I swim slowly to consciousness, still half-asleep. Entwined as I am, I feel safe. Relaxed. I don’t quite know where I am, but I want to stay here, asleep. I am falling back into deeper slumber, when I feel my head tilt back, a long languorous kiss settling on my lips.

It feels good and I whimper, pushing myself closer to the body around me. My mouth opens and a smooth tongue enters my parted lips, plundering my depths. A scent of masculine arousal blooms around me, spicy and delicious. Of their own accord, my claws sheathe and my fingers reach up, tangling in long hair. My core grows wet and I arch up instinctually, meeting a hardness that is reaching toward me. I grind up my hips, feeling a skitter of pleasure race through my veins. A firm grasp finds my breast and gently rubs my nipple. More pleasure. A mewl escapes my lips. Never has a dream felt so good. I grind again and hear a deep, low groan.

Instantly my eyes open, the sound making my mind more aware. Marvik’s face is next to mine, his eyes closed, his face relaxed as if he is also half asleep.

“Come back, huntress. I’m not through with you,” he murmurs, reaching toward me.

I rip away, rolling off the bed and land on my feet. Horror and embarrassment mix with my lingering arousal. Marvik sighs, his hand reaching to my empty spot. When it finds nothing, it relaxes and a soft snore exits his lips, falling back into a deeper sleep and whatever dream he was having. Who was he dreaming of, that he would treat me so passionately? Could it have been . . . me ? Huntress sounds like a soft name that could fit me. But, no, I am being foolish. He has no soft feelings for me. He has spent the entire time we have been together trying to get away from me. Just because his sister is alive doesn’t mean that things have really changed between us. It must be someone else, some other past lover of his. Jealousy, ugly in its intensity, fills my heart, but I swiftly banish it. Though I have never had a lover, it is not unreasonable that he would have had one. Or many. And though he is my Ash’ka , he is not really mine. No words of love or fealty have been said between us. I have no hold over him, no Claim. I certainly cannot control his dreams.

The smell of his arousal still fills the air, making me wet and it’s hard to think. I turn to the bedside table and pour more water in the basin, taking the damp cloth and wiping my face and neck. The cold helps settle my feelings. We were both asleep. Dreaming. It was a mistake. He doesn’t even know that it happened. It’ll be alright; there’s no reason to be embarrassed.

Crossing the room, I peek out the curtains. The sun has just barely risen, and I would guess that it is going to be a few hours before the morning bell. We slept all the rest of yesterday and all night. Not surprising after the trek we were forced to walk. I pick up my necklace, the stone glittering in the weak light of early morning, and fasten it back around my neck. The shops will be open soon and we will go gather supplies, if Marvik doesn’t leave or betray me before then.

I glance toward the sleeping man, his hand still reaching out in his sleep as if searching for me. Not me , I remind myself. His lover. His “huntress .” I consider waking him, but he is human and the journey here was hard. He needs his rest.

So I sit on the ground, folding my legs, and meditate, centering myself as a warrior should. I find my inner calm, the peace where no emotions dwell and breathe deeply. I will keep myself grounded in reality and not let pesky hopes and instincts distract me from what is true: my Ash’ka and I are little more than strangers, barely better than enemies, and that is the way that it will stay.

Isn’t it?