Ballad and Blade (Destiny’s Edge)

1. Chapter 1

Chapter one

T he tavern was filled with a raucous crowd, the clink of glasses and chatter of customers almost drowning out the music. Tamaka shouldered her way towards the bar and rested her forearms on it. The orcs to either side of her moved away slightly in respect, giving her more room.

She had not worn her royal cloak tonight, but there was nowhere she could go in this city without people recognizing her. It was both a benefit and a detriment of being the kind of king who ruled from amongst her people, not above them on an untouchable throne.

"Your Majesty," the bartender said with a deep nod.

She leaned close over the bar. "Get me a honey mead and don't call me that again tonight." The orc nodded and passed her a tall elkhorn cup of mead, and Tamaka tried to blend back into the crowd. It was not easy. The orcish capital city of Seven Falls was large, but not large enough that she could walk about, unknown. The people knew their king.

There was no bowing and scraping around her, at least. Those tavern patrons that were not already drunk gave her a respectful berth but otherwise left her alone. These days, even that seemed like too much.

The sense that everyone knew her, everyone relied on her, everyone needed her, gnawed at the pit of her stomach in a way it hadn't in years. She'd been able to bear it when her husband Vagar was alive, and after he'd died, she'd forced herself to bear it alone, to remain strong for her people and her young son.

The years had chipped away at that strength until she felt herself wavering. She wondered if the people around her saw that, felt it; if they worried and whispered behind their hands when her back was turned.

There's something wrong with the king.

The title sat heavy in a way it never had before. She'd shared the weight with her husband when he lived, and the burden had felt less than halved, simply knowing Vagar was there, that someone always had her back. And when they'd had their son, the burden had lessened even more. She had an heir, someone to pass the kingship too, someone she knew would be as brave and intelligent as his father.

No one told you, when you got married, what you risked. No one talked about the potential misery of loving someone and losing them, of finding someone you wanted by your side for the rest of your life, and having them ripped away from you too soon, when you were not ready.

They'd only had eleven years. She hadn't been ready. No one had warned her.

He'd been gone four years, now, and while the grief had eased with time, everything else had become more difficult. Everything they'd shared together, from raising their son to leading their troops into battle, was harder with him gone.

Even the little things. Especially the little things. She would dress in the morning and there was no one there to help her with a knot or a buckle when her fingers fumbled. There was no warm body to turn to at night when winter swept through the valley.

Tamaka took a long draft of her mead, the alcohol warming her, promising a few fuzzy hours when she could forget her troubles.

"Tam!"

A jovial voice called her nickname and Tamaka sighed, making her way to the darkest side of the tavern. A group of orcs sat around a rough table, Zoli, the commander of the army's scouts and rangers beckoning her closer. Tamaka sat in one of the empty chairs, propping her feet on the table. She tapped her cup to Zoli's in a toast.

"You look like that drink isn't going to be enough," Zoli laughed. The commander was one of Tamaka's oldest friends and had always treated her with a friendly irreverence. The had trained together, been pregnant with their children at the same time, and Zoli had lost her husband to the war as well, though many years before Tamaka had.

She could still clearly remember the weeks she'd spent bringing food to Zoli's house as she grieved, insisting she eat and bathe, caring for her friend's little daughter when Zoli couldn't even care for herself. She and Vagar had set aside some of their duties to look after their friend, and it had never occurred to her she would end up in a similar position, years later.

Tamaka stared into her mead, her mood dimming again. "I've barely started this drink."

"Well, finish it. Another round, here!" Zoli shouted. The other orcs at the table, young scouts under Zoli's command, cheered. Tamaka closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall. She was still young, by all accounts, closer to thirty than to forty, but she felt too old for their carousing.

The crowd sang along, out of tune, to the raunchy love song a bard was playing. Some of the younger orcs left the table to dance, egging each other on. Tamaka tapped her fingers against her cup in rhythm. The song ended and the patrons called for more as a barmaid brought a sloshing pitcher of mead to their table. She drained her first drink and allowed Zoli to pour her another.

"Finish that one, too, and then tell me how you're feeling," Zoli laughed. She pulled a set of wooden dice from her pocket. She didn't ask Tamaka to play. She likely already knew the answer would be no. The scouts played a few rounds of "Eggs in One Basket," pennies changing hands as they gambled for low stakes. Tamaka quietly finished her mead and Zoli poured her a third.

She rested the tankard on her knee. The drinks and company had done their job well. She felt warm inside and out, perched precariously on the edge of happiness. Another drink could cause her to slip off into sadness again. Instead, she watched the tavern's entertainer as he plucked at his lute.

He was a human bard. It was not uncommon to see humans in Seven Falls, and there were some who lived among the orcs, but this one seemed a bit out of place. A traveling bard, probably. He watched the tavern patrons with wide-eyed, avid interest, his smile friendly when someone dropped a coin into the pouch beside his seat.

His long legs were stretched out before him as he played and sang, strands of fine blond hair falling from a loose ponytail into his eyes. Strumming the last few notes of his song, he took a quick sip from the tankard on the floor beside him and began another love ballad. Tamaka huffed. His gaze shot to hers for a second, a smile curving his lips as he sang about a wayward lover in a clear tenor.

"Not enjoying the music?" Zoli asked, rolling one of the dice across her knuckles.

"Never cared for love songs," Tamaka muttered, sliding her mead across the table for her friend to finish.

Zoli raised an eyebrow. It was a bald-faced lie and she knew it. When they were young, not yet twenty, Vagar had courted Tamaka with love songs. He'd been a horrid singer, but his friends had teased him that love songs and poetry were the way to a girl's heart, and he'd taken them seriously.

Tamaka had adored every moment. Even when his singing had resembled the screeching of a crow, she'd listened, rapt. Every moment of his questionable performances had been wonderful.

The younger orcs eventually made their goodbyes and staggered out of the tavern, back to the barracks. The crowd thinned a bit as the moon rose. "You're in a mood," Zoli murmured when they were alone at their table.

"Just haven't had the time to go out like this in a while," Tamaka answered.

"You're a bad liar, Tam," her friend chuckled. "You need to learn how to distract yourself, have a bit of fun." Tamaka opened her mouth to protest and Zoli cut her off. "Whatever you're about to say, don't say it. I know better than anyone what you've gone through the past few years, and I can see when you're not doing well. Or do you forget I've been through the same?" Tamaka shook her head slowly, giving her friend an apologetic smile. "So I also know, better than anyone," Zoli continued, "that you need to let go for an hour or two. You need to learn how to embrace a bit of fun from time to time. I'm not telling you to be irresponsible. I'm telling you that you can't keep going if you don't allow yourself a bit of rest and rejuvenation."

Tamaka hated that she was right. Even after all this time, even after her grief had faded to the point that she no longer lay awake every night, panic and loneliness building inside her until she felt as if she would scream, she still struggled to grasp joy when it came her way. It always felt a little like a betrayal.

Which was stupid, because the last thing Vagar would have wanted was for her to waste away in misery after his death. She nodded begrudgingly.

The bard finished his ballad and started another. "For pity's sake, no more love songs!" Tamaka called. He flashed her a grin and launched into a drinking song instead. A few patrons cheered, the drunken dancing starting up again. Zoli rolled her eyes and sipped the mead Tamaka had abandoned.

"How does the weight of the world feel these days?" she asked. Tamaka grimaced. Zoli pulled out her dice again and set one on the table. "A little wager," she suggested. "Odds, and you actually have to talk about your feelings. Evens, you don't." Before Tamaka could protest, she shook the die in her palm, rolling it across the table.

It landed on a two. Tamaka grinned. "Wipe that smile off your face," Zoli griped. She picked up the die again. "Odds, you have to go dance. Evens, you have pay for another round of mead."

This time she rolled a six. "Fucking hells!" Zoli complained.

"You're complaining about more mead?" Tamaka laughed, calling the barmaid over. She ordered another pitcher and poured them both a flagon. "This was by far the preferable option."

"I'd happily forgo a drink to see you dance and smile again," her friend said, and Tamaka took a long drink to hide her expression. "Vagar used to spin you around on his arm at the autumn festival and you'd smile so much your eyes sparkled like stars. I'd like to see that again."

Tamaka sighed. She would like that, too. She did miss her old self, the version of her who felt the warmth and protection of unconditional love. She had been untouchable, then. The world had been almost unbearably bright.

"Someday," she murmured. "Things can't be dark forever."

"That's the spirit! I won't press you to dancing yet, then." Zoli leaned back in her chair and tapped Tamaka's elbow with her own. "Look at them," she said, gesturing at the tavern patrons. "You're not alone in this war. We're all stuck in it, all looking forward to the day when that greedy elvish king isn't trying to get his grubby hands on our land. But they're finding time to be happy. They're making joy, if they can't find it. It's important."

"It's different," Tamaka muttered into her drink, barely sipping it.

"No, it's not," Zoli scoffed. "You used to understand that no one in this life can accomplish anything alone. You used to lean on people for help. You've forgotten how to do that. Every person in this tavern is worried for the future. Every one of them has lost someone they loved and had to mourn. And I don't see one of them acting like the fate of the world lies on their shoulders, entirely." She stared at Tamaka.

"I know," Tamaka growled. "I don't want to be like this. But some days I feel like I can't remember how to be any other way."

"You're here, among friends." Zoli patted her shoulder. "That's a start." She set down her flagon and picked up the die again. "Come on, tell me honestly, no wager. How do you feel?"

"Frustrated with myself," Tamaka answered, the words coming surprisingly easily. She wanted to unburden herself, despite her fears. "Dregu brought me some flowers he'd picked by the lake, yesterday." She wiped at the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, thinking of her son. "And he's such an arse sometimes, as all thirteen-year-old boys are, but he said they looked like my favorite flowers that Vagar used to bring me. Purple asters; you remember. I know he's been hurting, too. I know he misses his father. And I could see it in his eyes that he wanted someone to talk with about Vagar, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I thought, in that moment, if I said Vagar's name I might cry. And I didn't want to cry in front of him." She sniffed, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes. "I let him down. I couldn't give him what he needed. I've been hating myself over it for a day and a half."

Her friend nodded. "Talk to him tomorrow, then. Or next week. Whenever you're ready. It's never too late. He is a first-class arse, but he's a sweetheart, too. That child is perceptive beyond his years, and he can see when you're hurting just like I can."

Tamaka grimaced. Dregu would be king after her one day, and she did him a disservice not being honest with him. He would one day know what it was like to feel the weight of the kingdom's expectations. He would experience loss, like they all did. He should be prepared, when that day came.

Zoli tapped the die against the table. "Odds, you have a good long talk with that boy tomorrow. Evens, you send him over to my place for a sleepover with Bula and talk to him next week." Tamaka nodded in agreement. Zoli rolled the die.

Eight. "This is ridiculous!" Zoli exclaimed. "You can't win every damn roll. And now I have to put up with those two hellions for a few nights." She pinched the bridge of her nose.

"You offered," Tamaka laughed.

Zoli's eyes twinkled. "Odds, you have to invite that handsome bard over for a drink. Evens, I'll stop messing with you."

"Deal," Tamaka agreed.

The die clicked and skidded across the table. Seven.

"Gods be praised," Zoli whispered with a mischievous grin. "Go on. A wager's a wager."

Tamaka rubbed her forehead. "That's not fair." She couldn't do it. He was a stranger, and she could barely have a conversation with her friends these days, let alone anyone else.

"It's absolutely fair."

"You do it."

"The fuck I will."

"Fine!" she looked over at the bard as he strummed his lute. After a few moments, his gaze strayed to her. Tamaka tilted her chin at the table. He raised an eyebrow. She nodded. He inclined his head, a grin spreading across his face as he sang.

"Was that so hard?" Zoli teased.

"I don't know. Haven't touched it yet," Tamaka answered, biting back a smile.

Zoli barked a laugh, mead spewing from her nose. "There she is!" she exclaimed. "Haven't seen that Tamaka in years."

"It was only a joke, and don't you repeat it."

Zoli smirked. "Whatever you say."

The bard finished his song and picked up the pouch full of coins beside his chair, dropping them into the purse at his belt. He slipped his lute lovingly into a waterproof leather sack and slung it over his shoulder, making his way to their table.

"Behave," Tamaka whispered.

"Boring," Zoli chuckled.

"Evening." The young man tilted his head as he approached them. His smile was slightly crooked, charming and apologetic all at once. "Was I invited, or have I mistook?"

"Most definitely invited," Zoli said under her breath. Tamaka slapped her arm.

"Care for a drink?" she asked.

"Yes, thank you." He sat, folding his long legs under the table. He was taller than she'd assumed, his figure rangy and lean, but not skinny. He had a rather playful, fey look about him. She poured him a tankard of mead and slid it across the table to him.

"I'm Zoli," her friend said. "And this is—"

"Tam," Tamaka interrupted. Zoli shot her a sharp glance, a smile curving the corner of her mouth. Perhaps this stranger knew nothing of the orcish kingdom and wouldn't recognize her as the king, but she didn't want to take any chances.

She didn't want to be the king, tonight. She didn't want him to heap any more expectations on her than she already had. Perhaps it would be good to talk to a stranger, after all.

"Anslo," he said. "Pleasure to meet you."

"You're new around here?" Zoli asked.

"I've been playing in the taverns round about for a few weeks. I'd never been to Seven Falls before. Thought I'd pass through on my way to Arpel. I'm headed out in the morning." He took a sip of his mead, his eyes meeting Tamaka's over the rim of his cup. The corners of his eyes crinkled in pleasure as he leaned back and licked a drop of mead from his upper lip. She could feel herself flush slightly, the tavern blessedly too dark for him to see the dark green tinge in her skin.

"And where do you call home?" she asked.

"I come from the Baerene Islands, north of the Pearl Coast, originally," he said. "But I don't call anywhere home, these days. I wander wherever the wind takes me."