Page 12 of Wed to the Orc Captive

I thought of the smoke-stained down comforter in that small, sour house, of the one cooking pot, of all these things that would be too heavy to carry and too dingy with memories to keep. “No,” I said. “I’m fine.”

“Alright then. Lead the way.”

The crowd followed us to the edge of town, a good distance, but still not enough distance to disguise the whispers. I kept my chin high while they handed him two curved swords that he belted on.

“Farewell,” the overseer declaimed. “You will not be forgotten. Live a long life, Anura.”

“Annora,” Vrathgar said. “Your savior’s name is Annora.” He pulled the dowry pack up on his shoulder again. “Let’s go.”

I made eye contact with Bogdanna one last time, and nodded to her, a promise, that I’d live, that I’d escape, that I’d be free. She nodded back.

“My father's house,” I said, loud enough that all of them would hear, that they couldn't pretend it didn't happen, loud enough that it hurt. “Anything left of it, I give it to Odelle and John the baker's boy, so he can pay off his debt. Anything that is there, ensure it's saved for them.”

And then I followed Vrathgar into the woods.

THE WRONG ORC

Iheld my tongue for the first hour, kept silent when he pulled me behind a tree and listened to nothing, when he snaked our path through bracken instead of the soft earth, and when he pressed me, again, down beside an embankment, fear turning my senses too alert till he listened, listened, and sprang away, leaving me to stumble after him.

And it should have relieved me that it was for a different reason that he pulled me against trees and pressed me to the ground, but instead, dread rose in my gut, the knowing that something was wrong, that we were doing this wrong. We moved south.

“I’m sorry, please, may I ask a question?” My voice croaked, and I winced at it. I had been quiet too long, with no walks alone to forage and hum, too trapped in the silence of that house.

He cocked his head to the wind before he nodded.

“Why are we going this way? Aren’t the orcs…”

He raised an eyebrow.

I pointed north. “...aren’t the orcs over there?”

“There are orcs over there. Yes. You will find there are orcs in quite a few directions.” He stepped over a fallen tree.

I scrambled over it. “But we were supposed to go back to your people.”

“You mean to the orcs attacking your town.”

“Yes.”

“To make a magic pronouncement that none of them can toy with the humans anymore.” He was looking up at the trees, searching for something.

“Yes.”

“Annora…can I call you Annora?”

“I am your wife.”

“Thank you. Annora.” He approached a pine. “There’s no easy way to say this. Your people are idiots.” He dismissed that tree, kept walking as he talked. “The Gol Droth don’t care if you marry me. I’ve spent three weeks among their horde, and I was ready to leave at the three hour mark. I’m even more ready to leave now, yes?” He glanced at me, returned his eyes to the trees. “News of my violent nuptials is not going to bring anyone peace. You don’t need to meet them.” He turned and kept walking.

I was frozen, sick. He leapt over a dip.

“Wait!”

He didn’t stop. I slid down the bank, started scrambling up again. “You’re saying…this alliance doesn’t protect the town?”

He scanned the trees. “From the Gol Droth? No. But congratulations, now they can be entirely safe from the Drashik. Who live in…” he jabbed a thumb South. “...this direction.”

“You’re not of the horde that was hurting us.”