Page 57 of Wed to the Orc Captive

“Most of this trial is for show, mostly because no one actually cares about Vrathgar. This isn’t about him. It’s about Khal, and Sephar’s faction is trying to bait him out.”

“Sephar?”

A younger woman stepped into the circle across from us. Her arms were flying, an accusing voice. Vrathgar was answering, acid, and she kept speaking over. Drazha let it run⁠—

“She’s uh…” Tyralk winced. “This part doesn’t matter, I don’t think.”

“Doesn’t matter?” I hissed up at him, and he winced again.

“Okay, uh…she’s alleging that the undesirable males are going to start bringing in women they can easily control, because interaction with your people is barbarizing them. There are…a lot of insults. Vrathgar is…debating some points on that.”

“Is that Rissa?”

“What?” Tyralk blanched. “No, she isn’t…Rissa doesn’t care. No. She’s not even here.”

“Has he slept with her?” I gestured to the one in the ring.

Tyralk was blinking really fast. “God, sis, I don’t keep track of that!”

“So possibly.”

She waved her hand at me again, and Vrathgar cut her off with some scathing line of Orcish bombast. Tyralk gathered himself enough to mutter, “This is not about that.”

“Isn't it? She's jealous on her friend's account or her own.”

“It's not that simple— oh, Sajahk.”

Sephar stepped into the ring.

And because I couldn't hear his words, because it was all sounds, I could see with my whole attention how he moved, how he put himself in the circle at almost an equal distance between my husband and the young warrior woman, the supplicating way he spoke to her, the over-acted hesitance as he addressed Vrathgar, overdone concern. He waved an arm towards me.

“Tyralk? What is he saying?”

Tyralk inhaled, too sharp.

“Please.”

“He's modeling himself as your advocate. You spoke to him today?”

“He met me at the stream. What is he saying?”

“You are easily frightened, clearly timid…he’s insinuating that Vrathgar hurt you.”

“He has not!” I hissed.

He inhaled again. “This all looks bad.” Tyralk’s head snapped up. “You have a bite on your arm?”

“Yes?”

“God, sis…”

Sephar hung his head, like sorrow was bowing him down, and hatred spread up from my gut, acrid, like I hadn't thought I could hate again, because Todderick wanted to hurt me, Todderick wanted to use me, but now this…this twit would to take my body and my voice for this? For hurting someone worthy of better? And whether or not I was a fool, whether or not Vrathgar would prove me wrong, no one else was going to be allowed to hurt him, not using me.

I stepped into the circle, and I shouted, my voice rising above the rest, “He lies!”

THE FIRST MOTHER

“He lies!” I’d shouted it, stepping into that circle of earth. Murmurs rose, and I kept shouting, because surely someone understood, surely more of them spoke Common. Orcs traded with our people, at least in flesh and steel. “My husband has never done me harm! How dare you try to speak for me in front of my face!”