23
NOW, WITH RACLAHAD safely away, Aerhril felt as if she could breathe better for the first time in a long time. She went to Celedin and told him the news, that Elrion knew, that he was going to get the word to elves in the Vale, that they were saved.
Celedin smiled for the first time since he’d been shoved in this room.
He leaned against the wall, his legs spread out on the bed—she wondered if it was driving him mad not being able to stretch out his legs when he slept but now they were stretched out because he was sitting up—and he mused over how long a letter would take to get sent, when they might know something.
“Of course, they will not come directly to free the castles the orcs have taken,” he said.
“At first, they must meet the forces directly. That will take time. It could be six weeks, two months, even longer, before they get to us.”
“Yes, it will take time,” she said.
She left Celedin and went to tell Hafindel the news, that Hafindel would not need to leave the keep after all, that Elrion had the news, that he would tell everyone.
But she could not find Hafindel anywhere, and she was frightened to ask anyone if they had seen her, because she was meant to be the person who kept Hafindel’s absence a secret.
She looked all over, hoping against hope to find her maid and friend, but she found her nowhere, and she had to conclude that Hafindel had gone, that she had gone to spread the word on her own, and that Aerhril had not been in time to stop her from a needless mission, one too dangerous to have undertaken.
At dinner, she felt very alone, her sister gone, Hafindel gone, only surrounded by the cowering elf women.
She thought of what would happen with the forces from Valaedor, when they got here, in six weeks or two months, or whenever it was, as Celedin had predicted. The elves would kill the orcs, all of the orcs, the brigade holding this keep, and they would…
She swallowed. Hard.
They would kill Dathor.
She began to wonder what she was doing.
She did not want Dathor dead. She had never wanted that.
She could not want that. Even if only because of the way he had comforted her, all those years ago, in the night when she had nightmares, or the way he had protected her from Celedin.
Even just that, even leaving aside the way he had wanted her and she had wanted him, and the way that it felt when his hands were on her bare skin, or his mouth was on her jaw, or his cock was…
Even leaving that aside, she did not want him dead.
And he was back now. Her Dathor was back.
She had long thought he would come back, and then despaired of it, and then given up all hope entirely, and then resigned herself to this life with Celedin, a stewardess, a proper elf wife.
But this was never the life she had wanted. She had always wanted a life with Dathor.
Perhaps she should not still want a life with him. He had betrayed her and gotten Nathre with child, and he had raped her in front of an audience, and these were not the only sins he had committed, not even close to the only sins he had committed.
But she had always wanted there to be some way for them to be together.
She had known this, in her heart of hearts, for some time.
What was she doing, helping the elves to crush the orc army? What was she thinking?
That night, she burst into the steward’s chambers where she slept with him, and her voice shook as she said it. “Call him back.”
Dathor turned from where he was standing, looking out the window. His shirt was unbuttoned, showing off the swells of his gray-green pectoral muscles and his impressively rippled stomach. He was holding a letter. “You’re here early.”
“Call Elrion back,” she said. “If you do it soon enough, perhaps you can stop him from telling anyone, perhaps he would know the right sort of people to contact, because he used to march in protests when he was in school, and there must be someone who could know who that might be.” Of course, there was Hafindel.
What to do about Hafindel? She felt her heart squeeze in half.
She had gone mad, that was all there was to it.
Dathor furrowed his brow, walking towards her. “What are you saying?”
“Elrion was a revolutionary in his youth. He was always talking about how he thought the High King must be overthrown, and you know as well as I that High King Findas is driving the wholesale mistreatment of your people, and that if he were removed from the throne—”
“Elrion had a lot of pretty words,” said Dathor. “But when it came down to it, he never treated orcs like equals. He even thought himself better than the silvans because of his nae Oir upbringing. He was all talk, and nothing of substance.”
She squared her shoulders. “Yes, perhaps. When it comes to action, he is not that sort of man. But he still might have contacts. And what we need to do is to manage this.”
“Manage?” he said.
“Oh, I sound mad. I have gone mad.” She threw up her hands. “What am I doing? Betraying my people, my country, my blood? But this is the only way, isn’t it?”
“What are you talking about?”
“For you and me to be together,” she said. “This is the only way.”
“You and I hate each other,” he said.
“I know,” she said. “I know.” She suddenly felt entirely deflated. She wandered over to the bed and settled herself on it, hanging her head. She did not say anything else.
“I have no idea what it is you’re even talking about,” said Dathor. He came over and tossed the letter he was holding into her lap.
She picked it up. She could see, right away, that it was written in Elrion’s hand. She opened it. The seal had already been broken. It was written to the Envivtain nae Oirnir in the Vale, warning him of the invading orc army. Her lower lip trembled. “You have intercepted it.”
“You were very smart and sneaky, writing to him whilst carrying on a conversation. Or perhaps I am very stupid to allow you to meet with anyone behind closed doors. No wonder he took your sister away. Then again, he always did enjoy rescuing things. He likes to feel noble and righteous, but he is only ordinary and boring and cowardly.” Dathor paced in front of her, hands clutched behind his back.
She gazed at the way his shirt blew back, exposing his bare chest. “So, you knew it all, then. Please tell me you have not had Hafindel killed.”
He stopped. “Who’s Hafindel?”
“My maid. My friend. My only friend,” she said, her voice breaking. “If you have hurt her—”
“I haven’t,” he said. “But why do you mention her?”
She rubbed her forehead, feeling ill. “Oh, I sent her off. She volunteered. I do not know. She was looking for a time to go, and she was not going to announce it. She would just go when she could. I cannot find her and I—”
“You thought a maid could slip out easier than anyone else, and you were likely right.” He sighed heavily. “What am I going to do?”
“You cannot hurt her.” Tears were streaming down her face. “You must promise me, Dathor, you must—”
“If she is going to ruin everything and warn the nae Oir, what choice do I have? I have to stop her. I have to send word for the army to find her and—”
“No.”
He eyed her and she sat on the bed and tears flowed down over her cheeks. Her breath hitched, but there was no other sound.
They simply stared at each other for some time.
Then he began to pace again.
She spoke, her voice wavering. “You do not wish the orcs to rule Lothnehil. I know you do not. You have done all of this for one reason.”
“What’s that?” he said in a tight voice.
“For us,” she said.
“Us?” He stopped pacing again, and he let out a disbelieving laugh. “You cannot truly believe that.”
“Not… not perhaps here.” She touched her temple. “But inside, deep inside, wherever it is that we are moved by the forces that move us, the way you and I have always been drawn to each other, it is why.”
“You are so entirely arrogant and think so highly of yourself.” He advanced on her, eyes burning, gesturing with both of his burly hands. “Not everything is about you, Aerhril.”
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, it is. When it comes to you, it is. It is for me, too. It is all about you. And no matter how I try to stop it. No matter how ashamed it makes me—”
“Ashamed.” His voice cracked and he stopped cold in his tracks.
“You know it,” she said, her voice breaking, too. “We both know it. You diminish me, as you have said.”
“You little fucking—”
“But it doesn’t matter,” she broke in. She gestured over her head. “Because look what I have done. I have come to you to undo all of it, to betray everything, in order to bring us together.” Ah, but she was still protecting Celedin, was she not?
Well, that wasn’t out of loyalty to Celedin, it was only because Celedin was weak and Dathor was strong, and Dathor would crush him, and she did not want to watch Dathor kill something weak, did not want to see Dathor’s darkness, even though…
even though none of it would matter in the end. It never did.
They were written in the stars.
Even if she wanted it otherwise, it was inescapable.
“How do you wish to bring us together exactly?”
“We must… I know not exactly, but I think… we must find the elves in the Vale who are opposed to High King Findas, and I think there may be many. My father was never pleased about his economic policies. What he did to cut us off from trade, from the dwarves, all in the name of our superiority? It destroyed many elves, much of the business in the Vale. There are many who oppose him. And if we could get the orcs and those elves to work together, then perhaps we could end the suffering of your people.”
“You have thought of this?” He was stunned. He came closer to her. “This is what you are thinking?”
“I want us to have the Peak,” she said. “You and me. I want you to be the steward and me to be the stewardess. How else do we have a world where you and I can be together like that if we do not show the world that orcs and elves can be allies and friends and work together?”
He slid one thick gray-green hand up to cup her cheek. He rubbed his huge thumb over her cheekbone. “You want to be my wife, is that what you’re saying?”
“Obviously. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“No, you’ve never wanted that,” he said. “You only want that now because I’ve come in here, brutal and ruthless, and forced myself into this position over others. You only want me now because I’ve become my uncle. That is what you want in a man, anyway.”
“No, it is not,” she said. “I want you because you are…” But why did she want him?
She’d had the chance to be with a caring and soft sort of man, had she not?
Some part of her did want ruthlessness. Some part of her wanted power.
Some part of her was really hopelessly shallow in the end, she supposed.
“What?” he said. “Because I am what?”
“Kiss me,” she said instead.
He put his mouth to hers.
She groaned into his mouth, her hands on the firm swells of his muscles.
“If I’ve done it all for you,” he said, defeated, “why has it been so difficult to get here?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
“If all we really want is each other, Aerhril, why is it that we cause each other so much pain?”
She only shook her head, fresh tears coming to her eyes.
“I wish to sleep alone tonight,” he said. “Go back to your own chambers.”
Her eyes opened wide. “But—”
“Go, Aerhril, I need to think.”
“What about Hafindel? What about Elrion now that he knows the truth? What are you going to do?”
“You are not in charge here,” he said. “I am. Now, do as I say and get out of my sight.”