Her lips quirk. “You mean… you’re calling me kitten?”
I grin and stir the ochre grounds until they make a thick paint. She nods to my hands.
“What is that stuff for?”
“For your disguise. I don’t know how other orcs are going to react to a human in our midst, so I am going to paint you with my clan’s marking and have you wear that hood by your feet there and pass you off as my half-orc, half-fae wife. Just try not to speak if you can.”
She lifts a haughty eyebrow, and my grin widens as I witness the return of her spirit.
“Are you telling me to shut up?”
I chuckle. “Some of the things you say are… strange. They would give you away.”
Her blue eyes narrow. “So, what then, I’m your mute wife?”
“That is a brilliant idea,” I say as I focus on the task of painting the clan marks. Her growl warms my heart but thankfully she remains still as to not interrupt my work. I paint on the broad patterns of swirls with a quick, practiced hand. I know the patterns of the clan better than I know the landscape of my own hand.
An hour later, we are comfortably seated on Ethiel and heading toward the village. She’d balked a bit at the idea of riding a delfass, but within minutes seemed quite comfortable. I entertain the idea of maybe getting her a delfass of her own, but then her bottom shifts against my crotch from Ethiel’s rolling gate, and I immediately change my mind. If I have my way any time we need to travel, she will ride double with me, even though I know she will not be patient with such an arrangement long.
My delfass-ki likes her independence too much.
***
Sammi
Ethiel moves at a thrilling pace over the stretches of grasslands. It’s such an incredible experience that I can’t get enough of it. I almost wish I could lean forward, grasp his shoulders, and urge him to run faster so that we’re like a cloud rolling over the distance.
The rocky land is broken up with high cliffs, and mountains reign in the distance. Everywhere there are tall yellow blades of grass from where the snow has melted away, but I can see hints of soft green from new growth and pale flowers mixed among.
We have long since left the woodlands that border Orgath’s cottage far behind. I should be scared of the prospect of being in a village of orcs, but instead, I find myself strangely excited. I am riding on the back of a giant cat with an orc pretending to be my husband, disguised like some sort of Lord of the Rings cosplayer. I never participated in anything like that, but it always sounded fun, and at this moment, I get to live it.
True to his word, it doesn’t take us long to get to the village. I look around in fascination at what looks like something that could easily be the movie set of a fantasy or medieval historical drama. The little stone houses are quaint. There are farms nearby, and in the center of the village, businesses thrive.
There are no fewer than a hundred orcs milling about in this village. They are all tattooed with markings identical to the ones Orgath sports, and the majority of them seem to have a piercing fetish too. Earrings and septum piercings are the most common, but there are a good many pierced lips and brows too. I lean forward in fascination when we pass a heavily-pierced metalsmith working his billows.
Ethiel doesn’t stop; rather, Orgath directs him to what appears to be a large covered barn. Inside hay is piled in thick layers over the dirt floor, and everywhere delfass are curled up sleeping comfortably, their thick leather saddles and saddle-blankets sitting on benches near the walls.
We dismount, and Orgath pulls Ethiel’s tack off his back and sets it on a nearby bench. He rubs down the large cat’s sweating flanks and then ruffles the fur with a thick hand. Ethiel leans happily into his touch, a deep purr rattling through his chest. Orgath chuckles and gives him a final pat before taking my hand.
“Come then. Let us find a meal before we begin anything else.”
I nod my head, remembering that I am to play the mute now that we’re here. A meal sounds more than good to me.
Orgath leads me to the tavern next door. It is noisy but warm. Food is heaped on platters on tables where orcs of various shades of blue, gray and green sit. A few of them glance my way but then swiftly dismiss me as Orgath said they would.
So instead of being the center of attention, I’m the one watching everyone else. Males and females talk loudly, many are laughing among themselves probably over one joke or another, a few are arguing, and there appears to be at least one contest of strength going on at a table in a darkened corner.
“Orgath!” I jump as the voice booms out across the tavern. Several orcs turn our way, raise a hand in greeting, and return to their business. A cobalt-gray orc strides between the tables, wearing a broad grin as he approaches. He claps Orgath on the arm and grips his wrist, and Orgath returns his greeting with gusto.
“Bodi, what are you doing here? I thought you left to court a female of the Morwol clan?”
Bodi’s laughter is long and deep. “That was the plan, cousin. After Lorf took over this clan, everything has gone to shit, but the female I had my eye on turned out to be nothing more than a demanding shrew.”
Orgath rolls his eyes. “You should have known that. Rawgr spoils all of his children, and none more than his daughters.”
Bodi shrugs. “I thought maybe getting under the furs may be worth enduring her demanding tongue, but even that didn’t happen. She wants to be properly mated first, and with a male of wealth… apparently I do not have enough of that.”
“Did you not leave with three trunks of jewels? I know one had several fine elvish pieces.”
“According to her, it was not worth more than a pauper bride, unworthy of the daughter of a chieftain. I decided to cut my losses then,” he says, taking a big swig out of the mug he is holding.
Suddenly, those brilliant green eyes focus on me and his brows rise. I want to pull the hood further forward but dare not lest that seem suspicious.
“Who is this?” he inquires, his hand reaching out to me.
Orgath swats his friend’s hand away sharply. “This is my wife. Sammi. She is a half-fae orc from the high mountain lands. We met on one of my hunts.”
Bodi peers at me with increased interest. “A wife? Really?” He laughs. “I never thought you would find a female who could tolerate your ugly face.”
I open my mouth to defend Orgath. He can’t help that the side of his face that’s clean of tattoos is covered in scars, but my faux-husband laughs.
“At least my wife did not dismiss me for the small size of my family jewels.”
I blink at the meaningful way he says that and looks pointedly downward at his friend—surely he isn’t making a crass joke about his friend being lacking below the belt? Bodi’s uproarious laughter informs me that it was exactly what Orgath did.
I roll my eyes. Men.
“Come, you and your dainty wife must join me for a drink. Her fae-kin must be of a small stature, for I believe I have never seen such a tiny orc before. Let us share a drink and a meal if you like.”
Orgath accepts and steers me after Bodi to a table. I throw a concerned look at him, but Orgath just winks at me. I chew my lip and hope I don’t do something stupid to give us away. Pulling discreetly at a corner of my hood, I sit in the chair that Orgath nudges me toward. Tall mugs of mead are immediately set before us and I enjoy the sweet bite of the alcohol. I take a long and satisfying sip of it, my throat parched from riding Ethiel.
Bodi grins over at me. “How do you like being Orgath’s wife and living away from the village?”
I freeze but manage a small smile and tap my throat with an apologetic look.
“My apologies, Bodi. I forgot to say that my wife is mute. A childhood accident, I fear.”
“Well, at least you are spared a nagging tongue then—no offense, my lady,” he says cheerfully.
He lets loose another loud laugh, and Orgath, swallowing a large gulp of mead from his own mug, tips his head back and joins him.
Oh ha, ha. I narrow my eyes.
Chapter 6
Sammi
I grind my teeth together and begin plotting my revenge when a barmaid plunks a fresh tankard of mead in front of Bodi, sloshing a little of it into his lap.
“Hey!” Bodi shouts. He jumps up and starts to beat the liquid off his lap as the ochre orc smirks at him, her amber eyes dancing merrily. Like the other orcs, she is tall, well over six feet, her face bearing the same clan marks. Unlike the numerous small braids that the males wear, she has a long singular thick braid of brown hair that falls to her hip. She also wears a grotesque collar of claws and animal bits around her throat. Bodi glares at her, but Orgath just laughs harder.
“Serves you right, Bodi,” she says sweetly. She smiles at me, but turns to jab Orgath in the chest, bringing his laughter to a halt.
“Why did you not invite me to your bridal feast? Did our mothers not grow up together like sisters, even though they were first cousins. I am your closest living relative. I should have been first to be invited to drink to your happiness.”
Orgath chuckles and rubs his chest with one hand, the other held up in a placating gesture. “Erra, Sammi asked that we not make a fuss. She did not wish for a bridal feast, so we merely settled into our life comfortably in my cottage.”
Erra snorts in obvious disgust. “You should not be in that ramshackle cottage. You were meant to be the next chieftain when your father was ready to step down. Instead, you live like an exile,” she snarls with an outward thrust of her hand.
Orgath frowns down at his mead. “That is the way of it,” he grunts.
The female orc huffs and sits down beside me. I stiffen because she’s so close. I think if I make one wrong move, she’ll see through my disguise. She peers at me thoughtfully, her short claw tapping on the table.
“I have never heard of a female refusing a bridal feast,” she states. I shrug and give her a wan smile. Her eyes drift slowly over me. I can feel beads of sweat gathering on my skin under her perusal. Suddenly she smiles again.
“I have heard half-fae inherit a talent for magic. Show me what magic you have,” she says, her lips curling into an impish smile.
Oh crap. I look beseechingly at Orgath, who’s scowling at her now.
“Leave her be, Erra,” he growls.
The female cocks an eyebrow. “What? Surely if she is half-fae as you say, she must have some small gift. She doesn’t look anything like an orc from what little I can see, so she must take after her fae side, if that is in fact what she is. So, come on, show me.”
I mutinously scowl at her, but her smile just widens.
“For the love of… okay, she is not orc or fae,” Orgath hisses. “Sammi is human.”
Erra laughs and slams her palm on the table. “I knew it!” she shouts.
Every eye in the tavern immediately turns to her, and Orgath hisses in warning. She immediately sits back down, her expression smug. “I knew it!” she continues. “You have her well disguised, but neither fae nor orc would demand their husband not hold for them a bridal feast. All females look forward to such things.” She shakes her head and chuckles. “Only you, Orgath, would be so crazy to steal a bride from the humans.”
“I didn’t steal her,” he growls. “I found her lost and abandoned, near frozen to death in the mountains while hunting. I merely brought her home with me and cared for her. No stealing involved.”
Bodi leans forward and looks at me curiously. His focus is so intense it’s more than a little uncomfortable. As is the interested rumble coming from him, one that has Orgath scowling fiercely at him.
Erra scoffs. “Semantics, cousin. You know you will not be able to hide the fact that you have a human wife for long. When this gets out, every single orc who hasn’t felt the bloodbond is going to be flooding Ov’Ge looking for mates.”
Bloodbond? That doesn’t sound particularly pleasant.
“Enough, Erra,” Orgath says with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Even if you are not chieftain, you still have a duty to our clan,” she insists.
“Erra does have a point,” Bodi chimes in. “You know how much some of our kind struggle to find mates. Most of us settle to live without finding our bloodbond. No orc will willingly give up the opportunity to find one if he or she sees that it is possible.”
I want to interrupt. Boy, do I ever. Despite the truth being out regarding my species, they are still under the mistaken premise that we’re married. What’s even odder is that Orgath is not correcting them. Rather, he looks at me in a way that makes me want to squirm from the yellow molten heat in his eyes.
***
Orgath
I have stopped listening to Erra ten minutes ago, and Bodi about five, although I keep an eye on him. I know he won’t harm Sammi, but I don’t care for the interest he displays toward her. The amount of possessiveness I feel is surprising.
I hadn’t wanted anyone to know she is human for safety reasons, but now I am confronted by the ambiguous truth that motivates me. And it is the reason why I say nothing when they continue to speak of Sammi as my wife. She keeps looking at me with confusion in her eyes, but I won’t speak.
It is not just because I don’t want to risk possible harm coming to her; it is because I fear another orc may attempt to take her away from me. If I am honest with myself, why else pretend that she is my wife? I could have easily passed the same story without it. No, something within me wants others to give her berth as they would to my wife. I don’t want even a suggestion or threat of other males near her.
Erra leans toward me, scowling. “You come among the orcneas race with your human wife. She is now an orcneas wife—or orc wife, since our race seems to prefer that dreadful word,” she says, waving her hand dismissively.
Erra’s father is a male who keeps our lore and has never liked that, a few generations ago, our kind began shortening our designation to orc, departing from tradition. Not that I can blame my forefathers and mothers.
Who wants to be called a name that refers to one’s kind as an eater of corpses or a monster? Men of Ov’Ge gave us that name because we are not as fair in form as the elves. Rather than having the appearance of moonlight and magic, orcs are the color of good earth and hard stone. We are hard and warrish, with severe features.
I sigh heavily. “You know we made an agreement with the fae generations ago to not interfere with Ov’Ge, Erra. Like the other races, we can pass between our world in theirs when we must, but we do not approach them.”
“Since when do the fae not change things to suit them? They are good at twisting the wording of a pact to serve their purpose. Technically, you violated that agreement when you saved Sammi,” Erra retorts, not unreasonably.
“An even better reason for no one to know,” I growl, my ears flattening against my skull. “Do you wish for us to be at odds with the elves again?”
She snorts and leans back in her chair, her arms folding over her chest.
“If you were chieftain, our clan would not worry about the opinion of elves, nor would the elves be eager to attack,” she says firmly.
I groan and scrub my face. Always this old argument with Erra. I do not wish to challenge Lorf. The last time my family went against him, it did not end well for us. I have thirty-six winters, and I would like to live to see more, especially with Sammi at my side if the gods and ancestors will it.
Erra frowns. “What do you think will happen when Lorf learns of Sammi?”
Even Bodi looks concerned at that. “It won’t go well. Lorf collects females who attract his interest. A human in Ov’Gorg—he will salivate over the idea of possessing her once he gets word.”
“It is not something you can hide forever, Orgath.”
“She’s right,” Sammi whispers, startling me and the other two orcs. I didn’t expect her to break her charade by speaking.
I growl and look around to see if anyone heard her and is now watching. Much to my relief, the other orcs in the ta
vern seem unbothered by anything occurring at our table. I blow out my breath, the tension in my muscles relaxing with relief.
“See, even she knows what we say is true,” Erra hisses. “You need to challenge Lorf before he comes after you. And he will. It is just a matter of time.”
***
Sammi
I took a calculated risk by speaking—but a necessary one. I know that there’s no way we can pretend forever that I’m anything other than human. All that would need to happen is someone stopping by the cottage to see Orgath at an inopportune time. On top of that, I’m none-too-little worried about this Lorf guy. Therefore, it only seems right to throw my support behind Erra in this.
Sure, it’s a bit self-serving, but I’m really terrified of the idea of ending up in some warlord orc chieftain’s harem. No thanks. I’m just starting to get used to Orgath; I don’t think I want to be thrown in with another orc I don’t even know, much less one who has a reputation of killing his rivals. Doesn’t sound like a guy with great impulse control. I can imagine all it would take is me losing control of my mouth just once and I would be one dead little human.
I’ve lived with me all my life and there is one thing I know for certain: I have lousy control of my mouth. That and my temper.
I chew my lip as Orgath and Erra argue back and forth. Bodi is paying attention to them, but he’s still staring at me in that unnerving curious way. Thankfully, there’s nothing malicious about it, just open appreciation and curiosity. Unfortunately, I’m not really used to that kind of attention either.
I puff out my cheeks and blow out a long breath in irritation when I can’t take it anymore. I lean forward, looking Bodi right in the eye and whisper, “What the hell is your problem? Quit staring at me.”
Bodi jerks back in surprise and then his whole face crinkles with laughter.
Orgath yanks down on one of Bodi’s braids and it effectively silences him in time. I stare innocently at my orc as he scowls at me. Yep, as far as I’m concerned, he is my orc. The only one in this whole damn place who I feel is actually going to look out for me. The fact that he lights my fire more than a little is beside the point.
The Orc Wife Page 5