Page 5 of The Orc Warrioress and the Elf Lord

“Who is Florehil?” she said.

“Oh, he was one of the elves we were speaking with at Marthlis’s house,” said Iahir. “But you wouldn’t have been able to remember all of our names, would you?”

“I do not think everyone was introduced,” she said. “You all knew each other, and you did not seem to think we orcs warranted such a thing.”

He smirked. “That, there, just like the Larhilists.”

“What?”

“That indignation at the way of the world, at the unfairness of the world,” he said. “That assumption that we must right the world’s wrongs. I find it all so amusing and odd.”

“Truly?” she said.

“The world is a harsh place, you see. And there is little one can do to correct that, I don’t think. Pointless to try.”

She looked him over. “Yes, I can see how harsh the world has been to you.” She was sarcastic, but only faintly.

He chuckled as the carriage came to a stop. “No, you do not see at all. That is because I do not wear my injuries around my neck like jewels. I do not treasure them or assume they mean anything. Everyone suffers. That is the way of the world.”

She did not respond, because she could see that it would be pointless to try to convince him that his suffering, as a rich fair elf in the south, compared to her suffering, as a poor orc in the north, were so far apart as to not even be the same kind of suffering.

The door to the carriage opened, a servant standing there, holding it open, another servant coming to set down a set of steps for them to descend from the carriage to the ground. The servants were both elves, and they both saw her and visibly reacted, though they made no noise.

“This is my new sparring partner,” said Iahir to the servants with a wink and a smile. “She’s very knowledgeable in swordplay.” He smirked, making his double-meaning of “sword” very clear.

Gathren grimaced, but she must endure this, and she knew it.

They got out of the carriage and she trailed behind Iahir as they entered the palace and he told positively everyone that crossed their path about how she was his sparring partner and how she was going to play with his sword, that is, that they were going to engage in swordplay, that is, that he was going to cross swords with her, that is, that they were going to spend a lot time getting sweaty together, that is—

Every time he corrected, he corrected to another double entendre.

She got so that she stopped reacting to them, though, so that was something.

Partly, she was distracted by the beauty of the interior of the palace, which was just as enchanting as the outside. The ceilings were high and the interior walls were made of white stones fitted perfectly together. There were paintings on the walls of the gods, of the sunrise and the sunset, of rolling green valleys, of flowers and trees. Everyone they met was elvish and fair. Gathren was not used to the look of the Valaedor elves, who were pale skinned with golden hair. Some of them had pale yellow tresses, some orange or red, some silver. They were all as stunningly beautiful as their surroundings.

Eventually, they made it to Iahir’s quarters.

He showed her to the rooms where she would be staying, which were vast, rather larger than anything she had ever had for her own use. There was a tub carved from marble in one corner, gleaming and rounded and deep. She had never had a bath to herself in her life, always having to share the bathwater with others.

The bed was high off the floor, swathed in a light blue comforter that was stitched through with shimmering threads.

She was rather overcome by it, but Iahir apologized. “I know, I know, but you must realize that the wife of a guard—even the kingsguard—cannot command anything too grand. This is tiny and the windows are small and the drapes are faded, but it is the best I can do. I am sorry.”

She assured him she would manage with the size of the room, and he glanced at her sidelong and seemed to realize she was awed by the room and he smiled one of his smug smiles.

She hated this man.

He backed out of the room. Hesitating in the doorway, he said, “We must do the sparring at least thrice a week, I think. Afternoon is the time when I have for training. Apart from that, we likely don’t have to spend much time together. You can go to the library, look for something to divert yourself—oh, can you read?”

“I can read,” she muttered, annoyed with him.

“Well, you must not be offended when there are many orcs who cannot, and lower class elves besides,” he said with a shrug.

“No, I am not offended,” she agreed. “Nothing offensive has happened to me at all thus far.” She was faintly sarcastic again.

He chuckled again. “Yes, all right.” He started to shut the door. He stopped. “Well, there’s dinner, I suppose. I’m not strictly supposed to bring whores to dinner, but I did always bring my dwarf companion, mostly because it upset everyone, so I shall bring you as well. People would expect it of me. It will be a bit awful, I think, and I’m sorry about that.”

More apologies. “Pray, do not worry yourself over me,” she said tightly.