Chapter 14 #2
“Right,” Alwyn agreed faintly, turning to look out at the horizon one last time before nudging his horse into a careful trot. As they set out in the opposite direction, he slipped one hand into the pockets of his cloak and pulled out his enchanted parchment, hoping Tessarion had responded to him.
The space next to his last missive was blank. Alwyn sighed as he tucked the parchment away again. A lack of news was ominous, but all he could do was wait and see what his mentor deemed fit for him to know.
Maybe he had never noticed it before, since Krujha was usually leading the group while Alwyn trailed near the end of the line, but now that it was just the two of them, Alwyn realized the orc was often whistling or humming as they rode.
He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised.
Elves sang to pass the time during long travel, and a nomadic people like the orcs must have many more ways to make the day grow shorter.
Somehow he felt a little less on-edge, too, though they were arguably in far more danger now than they had been before.
But now he didn’t have to worry about how he was supposed to act with the others; or about Galred testing his abilities; or the elves judging him and reporting back to Tessarion.
He could just be himself. It felt like they were on one of their foraging detours, but with the knowledge that there would be no larger group of elves and orcs waiting for them to return.
“What song is that?” Alwyn ventured as Krujha continued to hum. The orc glanced over at him, surprised.
“Just an old walking song,” he said, shrugging.
“Will you teach me?”
A grin curled around his tusks. “It’s all in orcish. Think you can manage that?”
“I could teach you an elvish walking song, too,” he said, feeling heat rising in his face. But Krujha’s smile only widened.
“Sure. Then we’ll be even,” he said.
Krujha led him through the verses of the song.
Most of Alwyn’s orcish was very conversational, so the words were a little hard to follow; but it seemed to be a humorous song about a lone traveler tripping over various obstacles and bumbling their way home.
The list of obstacles increased every verse, so what started as a single rock ended with the traveler tumbling over a cart, a horse, a cow, a trunk, an anvil, a length of rope, a snake, a tree branch, and a rock—plus a few other words Alwyn didn’t recognize.
Krujha was laughing aloud as he sang, and Alwyn let himself chuckle along, feeling less self-conscious about his expression now that it was only the two of them.
Krujha’s gaze warmed when he saw Alwyn laugh. Heat bloomed in the pit of his stomach. His laugh died away, but Krujha’s soft expression remained.
“Do you know any funny songs like that?” he asked, still smiling. “Or are all elvish songs as serious and stoic as I’d imagine?”
Alwyn hummed, thinking. They were all rather stoic, or at least the ones he knew. The ones that approached anything even remotely humorous were more romantic in nature than anything else.
“They are all serious,” he finally said. Krujha laughed, clearly amused. “Do you still want to learn?”
“Teach me,” Krujha prompted him. Alwyn led him through the verses of the first one he could think of: the long list of obstacles in Krujha’s song had made him think of an elvish song about a fisherman trying to win the heart of a farmer’s daughter.
Each verse described a different fish he caught, or a treasure he dredged up, and presented to her.
Neither of them had a great voice, but there was nobody around to hear them, so it didn’t matter.
When they had finished that song, Krujha started another one in orcish.
It quickly started using words Alwyn couldn’t quite follow, but Krujha was laughing again as he sang; and he thought he might have heard the phrase “went in through the backdoor”, giving him enough context to shoot Krujha a scowl, which only made him laugh harder.
“Is that a popular one, then?” he asked in an unimpressed tone, guessing it was of the cruder sort.
“It’s not unpopular, that’s for sure,” Krujha chuckled.
“I don’t even want to know what it would be called in elvish,” Alwyn said, though it was getting harder to disguise the laugh in his voice.
“I don’t think you do,” Krujha continued to laugh. “But if anyone else sings you that song, you shouldn’t travel alone with them.”
“You just sang it,” Alwyn pointed out flatly, and Krujha’s wicked grin widened.
“Other than me, of course,” he said, but the way he held Alwyn’s eyes for a beat longer felt entirely intentional.
Now that it was only the two of them, he could allow himself to have the thought that had been lingering in the back of his mind for most of the journey so far.
Krujha was handsome, and the heat that bloomed in his stomach when he looked at the orc was not the same as the sharp anxiety he felt around strangers or his peers.
He had not allowed himself to even think the word attractive when he looked at Krujha, as if afraid the others could somehow sense his desire.
But now there were no other elves. It was only the two of them.
“Krujha,” Alwyn heard himself speak. He hadn’t meant to say it aloud.
“Yes?” Krujha was looking away now, though a small smile still lingered on his face as he scanned the horizon. But Alwyn knew how sharp he was, even when his guard was down, so he searched his mind for something to talk about.
“I… never thanked you for not leaving me,” he said, reaching for the first topic he could find.
It was more serious than he meant it to be, his voice coming out in a low, apologetic tone.
But he supposed he did owe Krujha a debt of gratitude for not leaving him behind, and now he could thank him without worrying about anyone overhearing.
“And for making sure I didn’t get us killed.
I knew I couldn’t save them all from that camp, and another second could have… ”
Krujha let the silence hang there, though Alwyn was sure could hear how his voice broke with the admission. The orc kept his eyes forward as Alwyn took a steadying breath.
“Don’t mention it,” Krujha answered, his tone as easy and light as ever. “No, that won’t do with you elves, will it? I suppose you owe me again, don’t you?”
This time, Krujha turned to face him with a wide, gleaming grin. Alwyn met his gaze, trying to keep a smile off his own face, and gave a nod. “Well, I’ll think of something, I’m sure,” the orc laughed.
“I’m sure you will,” Alwyn murmured, heat rising in his face as he finally glanced away.
Maybe it was more than just physical attraction, he thought.
Had anyone ever been closer to him than this orc spy?
Dangerous as it was to let his guard down this much, he couldn’t deny that he had shared things with Krujha that he had never spoken a word of before, had been more vulnerable with him than with anyone else.
But nothing would come of it—nothing could come of it, of course.
Elves of the Order never took a bondmate, as the magic linking two minds was far too great a risk.
Close relationships simply didn’t happen in their line of work, and purely physical interactions, while not forbidden outright, were still discouraged.
So he had kept that part of himself on a tight leash, ignoring anything even remotely approaching attraction so completely that he only ever recognized it long after the other person was gone from his life.
Now, though, he could feel that grip relaxing, and for once did not push away the desire simmering low in his body.
He let himself look at Krujha—his wicked smile, the way his raven-dark hair fell into his golden eyes, how the strong muscles of his body shifted and rippled with each step of his horse.
He thought about what those muscles would feel like slicked with sweat against his hands, imagined the movement of Krujha’s bigger body atop his own.
But that would never happen. He couldn’t afford distractions in this mission, and such activities would be a significant distraction.
Still, he could allow himself to soak in the feeling for however many days they had alone together.
His imagination would have to suffice, along with the freedom to let his eyes linger on Krujha’s pleasing form for as long as he wanted.