Page 43 of Wed to the Orc Captive

“What?”

My stomach turned to ice. I wracked my mind for what I could have said, how they’d mean⁠—

“I asked if she’d been hurt, and she…I think she thought I was trying to invalidate your bond. She was like a cornered shthrak, insisting that you’d taken her to bed and you were hers.”

He sighed. “Well. Loyalty is good, right? Some kind of loyalty.”

“Did they force her to you?” The question hung there.

I wanted to say no. No, I chose this. I chose him. But that wasn’t what he answered.

“It was me or a different piece of shit. I…didn’t understand that dynamic, at the time. She’d met me. We fought a bit, tangled, you know? In the cell. And then she chose me. I thought she just liked my face, hmm?” He let out a sarcastic laugh. “It wouldn’t have changed my choice to live. I just…might have gone about things differently.”

Someone tsked under their breath. “No wonder she seems like a frightened squirrel.” Tyralk. “But she seems to like you, right?”

“Well, she killed for me, but again, it was me or the bigger asshole, so.” The false jollity in his voice stung. “She thinks I’m a monster, but the good news is, she grew up with humans, so that puts me on equal footing with…every man and orc she’ll meet.”

The woman spoke again, softly, “I’m sorry.”

A stream of Orcish came from him, and I wished not for the first time that I could understand it as something other than just noise.

The room was quiet, and I weighed whether to go to that curtain, pretend I’d only just awoken and hadn’t heard or…I wanted to see him, whatever that made me. I needed to see him okay. But the young one’s voice broke the quiet.

“So the elders will be mad, but you can just explain and then…it’s not like you have to stay married, right?”

“Tyralk,” the woman muttered.

“No, you know I’m right! If neither of them even wanted to⁠—"

Vrathgar cut him off. “No. If she wants to abjure me, I’ll accept, but I’m not taking her to my bed, dragging her halfway across the continent and dumping her outside an orc enclave.”

“There's something else.” The sorceress’s chosen one, Khal, spoke again. “It would be better for Vrathgar, with the council, with the people, with everything, if they stayed married long enough to look like it wasn’t Tar Ivan.” His voice was gruff. “She’s already in the stronghold, and the last time they tried…” he trailed off. The fire crackled, and I sat, frozen. I had considered leaving him, right? That was my entire plan. Getting away. Why was my stomach in knots?

The young one tsked. “Well, at least she's pretty.”

“Tyralk!”

“What? It matters, doesn’t it? You can’t pretend it doesn’t matter⁠—"

“You snarflakh⁠—"

“Khal.” Vrathgar's voice commanded attention. Everyone else stilled. I slipped down from the bed and padded, silent, to that curtain, to the thin band of light, Vrathgar still lying in the pit by the fire, his friends near. “They’re going to use this to hurt you.” He said it flat, like there was no question.

The quiet one responded, just, “Yeah.”

“One unwilling bride, that could be a mistake. Two…”

Rowena, their sorceress, her face was so pale.

Vrathgar’s eyes were distant, set. “This isn’t like when we were kids and you could take a licking for me. If Sephar takes your place⁠—"

“Sephar has nothing to do with this. We’ll get you whole, and we’ll go from there.”

He shook his head. “I have to do right within the reach of my arm. I can’t untangle this for you. But if they come for me, this is about your position. This is about our people, not your sorriest hanger-on.”

“Stop.” There was no venom in his voice. “Don’t insult my brother while I can’t kick your ass.”

Vrathgar didn’t rise to the bait. “...you could renounce me.”