Page 38 of Wed to the Orc Captive

“We can’t leave her alone in a place with no one she can understand.” The sorceress’s voice shook, and I almost felt bad for not caring what they threatened her with.

“Gnarlak could come sit with her.”

“What if she needed to ask for help? What if she’s hurt? We are not making her talk about this to a man!”

I shrunk in on myself. Even the sorceress was a better person than I was.

“Blenna could come.”

“Blenna knows maybe twenty words; she cannot translate for Grezha.”

“We’ll find someone. I’ll ask around.”

Her voice got more squeaky, more shrill. “I am not broken. I can talk to her.”

“I know you’re not broken. I know you’re strong. I just want you to be okay.”

I wished that it wasn’t alien, the care in his voice. And then the sound was just sobbing, and I curled in, tighter, on the cot, feeling lost, feeling numb.

The sobs ended, and her voice was muffled, and it shook. “I want to kill him. What was he thinking?”

“I don’t know. We’ll ask him.”

“I can’t even look at him right now⁠—”

Their muffled voices faded. I looked up at Grezha regarding me over the cauldron, her soft face creased in worry. She smiled, the way you do to soothe a child. “Nayah,” she said, and started speaking again, going to a cabinet painted in bright floral patterns. She pulled out a quilt in blue and ochre, and brought it over to wrap around me. It was warm, like it had been resting near an oven. She pointed to the cauldron again and to the window above, her stream of steady chatter unintelligible to me, but clearly meant to be comforting. And that was nice, that someone wanted to be comforting. I let her ease me down onto my side and cluck at me, pantomiming sleep, pointing and promising something with the cauldron and the hearth. And I was sick to death; everything inside me was aching. I was hurting people, all the time. I didn’t deserve her care, but I let her tuck the quilt over me, and I slept.

SORCERESS

When I woke the sorceress was back. She sat on the ground in front of the fire, an earthen cup in her hands. “Grezha stepped out for a bit,” she said. “There’s a mother needs tending.”

“She’s your midwife?” I sat up. It felt foolish to be lying there in a blanket.

“She’s a lot.” She was motionless, her hands on the cup.

I felt like an animal approaching a hunter, but this was also the woman who’d cried outside the window. “I’m sorry.” I swallowed. “I was rude to you.”

“You were afraid.” Her lips were a thin line, her eyes still on the cup. “People lash out when they’re afraid.”

“I’m still afraid.” I clenched the blanket. “But I’d like to ask questions, if you’d let me.”

The orcs’ sorceress nodded.

“How…how do you know my husband?” The word was alien on my tongue.

“He and my Khal were comrades in arms. I met him when I met Khal.”

“And Khal is the one with…” “with the horrible scars” sounded wrong. “...he’s the man you belong to?”

“We’re married.”

So these people did marriage. They weren’t the Droth. “You have both your ears?”

“What?” She frowned. “Yes.” She pushed her hair back.

My pulse started to slow. “You said Khal. Vrathgar mentioned a Khal. That he learned Common from his father.” I felt like I was going to be sick, from relief, or maybe horror, I wasn’t sure. “You're his shield-brother’s wife.”

“Yes.”