Page 40 of Wed to the Orc Captive

“You are plenty frightening, you’re ridiculously tall⁠—"

“You could roast me like a game rabbit!”

“She doesn’t know that!”

His eyes met mine, a sad, lopsided smile. “Hello, new sister-in-law.”

I didn’t know if I was supposed to bow, or nod. I whispered, “Hello.”

The low ceiling was hung with cooking pots and knives and strings of drying mushrooms, and the tall one, Tyralk, had to duck and weave a little as we followed him. The man from Grezha’s, Khal, was sitting by a fireplace sunk in the center of the room’s floor, stood to greet us. And beside the fire⁠—

I let go of the sorceress to rush into the pit and drop next to Vrathgar’s blanket-draped form. He was breathing. There was color in his lips again. The bandages across his chest and shoulder were fresh.

“You brought her here,” Rowena’s orc rumbled behind me.

Her voice was tight. “She wanted to see him.”

I put my hand on Vrathgar’s cheek, not knowing why I shook. Flushed, but no fever.

He was going to live. He’d be okay.

“How is the wound on his thigh?” I asked, still slightly hoarse.

“Healing,” the sorceress’s orc answered, “though it had to be cut open and cleaned.”

“That makes sense. We didn’t have the means to clean it, and we had to stop the bleeding, so I sewed…” I snapped my jaw shut.

The tall one lowered himself into the circle of seats, some distance away, like he was trying to make sure I wouldn’t bolt. “You seem to know something about this.”

“I was in training to be a healer, before.”

“Before what?” Their eyes were on me.

“Before…all of this.” I pulled my hand back. “He’s sleeping deeply.”

Rowena slid onto the low seat beside me, her back to the side of the shallow pit. “They gave him something for the pain. He’ll wake up soon.”

I nodded. That made sense. He needed to rest to beat the infection, even with the pungent scent of the poultices and sweat. And he’d been hurt so much. They’d hurt him so much. The bruises were still dark, barely yellowing on his temple, his cheek.

“You seem to care for him.” Her eyes were piercing.

“He’s my husband.”

Her eyes met the orc from Grezha’s doorway again, like they were having a conversation I couldn’t read, and my gut clenched. I needed to understand this place, these people, and it felt like I was perpetually making the wrong steps.

“Is there something wrong?” It came out a little shrill.

“No,” the other woman fumbled, “…maybe. We don’t know yet. We just want…everyone to be okay. This is sudden, yes?”

I clenched my blood-stained skirt in my hands. “Slow doesn’t mean better.”

The tall one let out a quiet laugh.

“What?” I was being too sharp. I was not going to cry.

“Nothing, it’s just…” he reached above his head to grab a bowl, then reached to a stew pot over the fire. “You sound like him.” He ladled something into it, held it out. “Soup?”

I took it.