Page 87 of Wed to the Orc Captive

I didn’t answer. Pain and stillness merited each other, stillness for pain, pain for the unmoving.

“The water should help. Getting in the water.” He turned like he was struggling. “I could stay outside the room, while you got in.”

So we were talking, like everything was normal. “Are there steps?” I murmured. “Or do you want me to jump?” A stupid joke.

“Yes, there’s a step, and you…you can sit. But sitting still hurts you, so you’ll…float. You’ll just have to be careful. They’re deeper steps.” What was he saying? “I can spend the night with Tyralk.”

Oh. Clothing. That made sense. We couldn’t soak my dress and stomp through the chill tomorrow. Removing clothes was a lot of intimacy for someone who was trying to get rid of me.

“How would I get out of the water?”

“I could be outside the door. And when you’re finished, you yell, and I’ll…” he stopped.

And I whispered, “You’re making this unnecessarily complicated.”

His eyes didn’t meet mine. “Larrakh could come.”

“Please don’t make me ask Larrakh.”

He looked up, sharp. “You still don’t feel at ease.”

Tears burned at my eyes. I whispered, “Please.” It hung in the air between us, with everything unsaid.

“We could get a blanket wet,” he said. “It doesn’t matter, if that’s not dry tomorrow.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

“I’ll help you up, I turn away, you undress, I give you the blanket…” he lost his train of thought.

“I can put on the blanket,” I whispered. “And you take me into the water.”

“Yes.” His eyes were on me.

“Okay.”

He hesitated, before leaning in.

If I remembered to relax, to let him do the lifting, my back wouldn’t spasm. I went rag-like, and he drew me up and caught me like someone had tossed him an armful of glass, like he wasn’t sure where I’d break or crack. And for all the time we’d spent discussing him sending me away, here, with me held against his chest, he seemed to be in no hurry to let me go.

Was it wrong, that I didn’t remind him? That I let myself rest against his chest a little longer?

He cleared his throat. “The water.” He stepped back, his hands hovering, then falling to his sides. “I’ll get the blanket.”

I waited for his back to turn before pulling off my dress. When he held the worn blanket out behind him, I took it.

It wasn’t gigantic, for a blanket. It wouldn’t be decent, in public. But he’d seen worse, and I could wrap it over my shoulders and around me. It hung above my knees.

He’d seen my body anyway. I shouldn’t be so precious about my legs, not when he was already rejecting all of me. “Ready,” I whispered.

He turned back, his eyes catching on my face. “I…” He looked away. “I’m sorry. That you still don’t feel comfortable with Larrakh.” His arm was under my knees, the other under my back, and it was like he was pretending this was normal, like we could pretend he wasn’t lifting me in a blanket.

I tried to let my body go limp while still holding the blanket closed. “I know she won’t hurt me.” Focus on Larrakh. Focus on talking to him, like this isn’t ridiculous or terrible.

“It’s something else?”

I wanted to hide, but the only place to hide was against the planes of his chest. He walked towards the water. Talk. “They all know I failed the trial.”

“It wasn’t a trial for you,” he said instantly.