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“I cannot help you, little one,” I tell her. “This is your mother’s house, and her word here is law.”

The orclings sigh and grumble at my words, but then get up and start clearing the table.

Sawa sighs as her children move to do as they promised. The orcress healer turns to me and says, “Thank you for your performance, Lady Melelea. I’m sure you are tired from your journey. Let me show you to your room.”

“Thank you, Sawa,” I respond, rising gracefully from the bench where I’ve been sitting, my travel dress brushing the ground. I move to follow the orcress healer, but cannot help but take one more look at the rustic dining hall. The orclings are helping clean up under the supervision of their father, while Zera speaks with Hali and Drika, Gunag staring at her from the opposite end of the table, blatant wanting in his eyes. Wodred sits by the fire, sharpening and oiling one of his javelins. His hooded, unreadable eyes catch mine and something in them makes my breath catch. I quickly break the connection of our gazes and follow Sawa up the stairs to the back rooms.

“Our home is humble,” Sawa is saying, “but I hope you are comfortable tonight.”

“I’m sure it will be very nice,” I assure my hostess. “Far more comfortable than camping at the roadside as we have been doing.”

The orcress healer sends me a swift smile before leading me to the end of the hall. She opens the door to a room where a cheerful fire is already crackling in the hearth and a large bed is pushed against one side of the room. It has a large, intricately stitched quilt on it and a cedar chest at its foot. It looks suspiciously like the master bedroom.

“Is this your room?” I ask.

“Usually, yes,” Sawa replies. “But for such an honored guest, it is yours for the night.”

“I cannot take your bed,” I tell her. “You are with child. You need comfort more than I do.”

“I insist,” Sawa says back, her tone brooking no argument. “You are the king’s mother. It is only right that you get the best room in the house. My baby and I will survive one night in the guest chamber.”

My instinct is to argue with her more, but manners dictate that I accept my accommodations gracefully. So, grudgingly, I say, “I thank you, then, for the use of your room. You are a gracious host.”

Sawa gives me another smile. “There is warm water in the pitcher for washing up. I will leave you to your rest, my lady.”

Then I am alone in the room. I notice that my satchel is already here, sitting on a chair next to the bed. I suppose my protestations didn’t matter very much if they had already decided this is where I would sleep.

Taking off my travel dress, I wash up briefly with the warm water provided, finding a cake of soap next to the pitcher with a cloth. I long for a bath to really take off the grime of travel, but it would be ungrateful to ask for one when it takes so much work to fill a tub. When I am as clean as I can get, I douse the lumen crystals and climb into the bed, luxuriating in the clean sheets after a week of being on the road. I am just about asleep when I hear the murmur of voices coming from outside. They are too far away to make out what they are saying and dampened by the window besides, but I think I can make out Wodred’s tell-tale rumble.

Curious, I get out of bed and creep across the floor. Unlatching the window, I open the pane of glass and strain my ears to hear the conversation below me.

A voice drifts up to my ears, Gunag’s brash tone. “ . . . and I’ll take the first watch, General.”

“I like taking watch,” Wodred replies. “You get some rest. I’ll come get you when the moon is high.”

“You always say that but never mean it,” Gunag retorts good-naturedly. “You’ll watch all night if no one stops you.”

“Nevertheless, I will take the watch,” Wodred responds evenly.

“Is it that you like taking the watch or that you like what you are guarding?” Gunag challenges.

“Watch yourself, Gunag,” Wodred warns. “Even though you are Axe to the King, I still outrank you.”

“What?” the orc asks, sounding truly baffled. “I only speak the truth. Any fool could see what you want after a week of riding with you. Does she know?”

“I know not what you speak,” Wodred replies firmly, his tone shutting down further conversation.

Gunag doesn’t take the hint, however. “Come now, you forget, I was there eight years ago when we thought she’d been killed. I saw how you reacted. Does she know that you killed your best friend for her?”

My mind stalls. They are speaking of me, I’m certain. But what does that mean?

“Enough, Gunag,” grinds out Wodred, before repeating, “enough. I don’t know what you think you know, but whatever it is, do not go spreading tales to anyone. Especially not to Lady Melelea. She has enough on her mind without gossip.”

“It’s not gossip if it is true,” Gunag argues. “Why do you not make your move? She could be your female if you would just be bold!”

“Like Dame Zera is your female because you’ve been so bold?” Wodred asks wryly.

There’s a pause, and then Gunag responds, his voice resentful, “That was a low blow, General.”