28
AERHRIL WAS THINKING about how she was going to explain being found with Dathor to the other women at breakfast, because she had absolutely no illusions that the information had not spread to everyone at Foxglove Peak since the soldier had first opened the door.
She did not think she could hide the fact that she was in Dathor’s bed willingly.
She would not put it past him to call her his wife in front of other people or to demand she call him husband, even though they weren’t married, and likely could never even be married.
She could not think of anyone who would perform a ceremony between an elf and an orc.
Both elf and orc clergy would be horrified by it.
That would make it all the more perverse and it would be why he would demand it.
Perhaps there was some element of that to her attraction to him. The attraction to the forbidden, to the perverse, but it was also so mortifying.
She could, of course, say that she was doing it to spy on him. That had been what she had said thus far. But if people saw them together, they would know it was all a ruse.
She was wondering if it wouldn’t be easier to come clean now. If she was moving to his side, to their side, why not simply allow everyone to know that?
It would not be easy, but it would have to happen eventually. If their plan was to be the lord and lady of this keep together, they would have to let people know about their feelings for each other eventually.
She could bear the embarrassment of it.
She was not actually embarrassed by Dathor, anyway.
Maybe, if she thought about it, she was not embarrassed at all.
They would wish her to be embarrassed, but she wasn’t.
There was a knock at the door, shattering her thoughts. “Yes?” she called.
“The commander asks your presence in the main hall,” came an orc’s voice from without.
That was odd. She thought he would be busy doing all manner of duties for the orc army and that she would not see him until much later in the day. She was expecting to go to breakfast as she usually did. She was not expecting to be summoned by him.
She was mostly dressed now, so she went and opened the door.
It was the orc who’d walked in on them. He’d seen everything, but then everyone had also watched her with Dathor on her wedding day.
True, Dathor had not uncovered her breasts that day, and his body had blocked her from view.
No one had truly seen her that day. But this orc had gotten quite an eyeful.
She felt her face heat up, and the orc could not meet her gaze either.
“Well,” said the orc. “I imagine you know the way. You will not need me to escort you.”
“No, I will not,” she said. “Am I to go to him now?”
“Yes, of course.”
So, she went through the hallways of the keep until she came down to the main hallway, where Dathor was standing, hands folded behind his back, gazing out one of the windows into the distance, over the wildflowers on the hills.
She approached.
He did not see her.
She cleared her throat.
He turned to her.
And then another orc was striding down the hallway. “You sent for me, sir?” he called.
“Yes, ashreg,” said Dathor. “Thank you for coming so promptly.” He nodded for her to stand behind him.
She did so. She was very confused. Why was she here?
Dathor addressed the other orc. “Lashrud, I have had a letter from the High Chieftain.”
“Yes, sir. I was aware that it had come. I am the one who insisted that you be interrupted.” The other orc looked up at Aerhril pointedly. “I knew you would wish it.”
Dathor’s expression sharpened, part amusement, part something nearly lethal.
So, Aerhril could see there was a bit of enmity here. Dathor was the commander, but this man did not entirely respect him nor approve of her.
Dathor glanced at her. “Yes, I’m sure that Lady Aerhril was quite pleased to be spared my further attentions. Seeing as she is ever so unwilling.”
She blinked at him, unsure of what to say to that.
“You won’t like this either, my lady, but I am bringing you with me south.”
She could not stifle a noise of surprise. What?
“The High Chieftain has summoned you, then,” said Lashrud, his tone even, not entirely pleased.
“He desires my advice,” said Dathor.
“Yes, you have somehow gotten his ear.”
“Well,” said Dathor with his sharp smile, “the good news is that you’ll be in charge here in my absence, and you and the rest of the brigade here will no longer be commanded by a half-elf upstart who has somehow been promoted beyond what he should deserve, given his experience.”
Lashrud looked up at Dathor. “Sir, that is not what I meant to imply.”
“Oh, we both know it is,” said Dathor. “If you damage this place in any way, I will kill you.” Dathor was still smiling.
Lathor furrowed his brow.
“But otherwise, I leave it all up to you,” said Dathor. “You are prepared to take command of the brigade once I have left?”
“Yes, sir,” said Lashrud.
Dathor glanced at Aerhril. “And you, pack your things. Ask for help if you need it. You’ll need nice dresses. Pack a trunk.”
A trunk? “Where are we going?” she said. Belatedly, “Sir?”
He smirked a little when she tacked that on. “We are going to Bilkwood, my lady. The High Chieftain has held it for weeks now. He and his army took it around the same time as we attacked here.”
Before the Valaedor conquered the Cirdan elves, they had their own high king, and he resided at Bilkwood.
It was the old capital of the Silvarenna.
The rank of the elf who presided over it now was only envivtain, of course.
And he would be dead, she supposed, if the orcs had taken it.
Killed, his wife raped publicly, just like here.
Despite the fact that she had fallen to Dathor’s side, she still could not help the rage that surged in her at the thought of it. She supposed her loyalty to her people could not be entirely extinguished.
He took her by the chin. “Yes, yes, I know. I see that look in your eyes.”
She tried to move her face away, but he held her fast, forcing her to look at him.
“Before we leave, we must call upon Elrion,” he said.
“What?” She was thoroughly confused at this point.
“And,” he said, “we have little time to waste, as the High Chieftain expects my presence as soon as possible. So, get someone to pack your trunk and put on something appropriate, and we will call upon Elrion mid-morning. We will be on the road in a carriage by noon.”
Noon? She gaped at him. It was impossible what he was asking. “There is no possible way to do so much in such little time,” she said to him, tossing her hair a little in irritation.
“Sir,” he said, grinning at her, enjoying himself.
“Sir,” she echoed.
“You’ll be in the carriage at noon, my lady,” he said. “If your trunk isn’t, if you must spend the entire time with me without clothing, well, I suppose I won’t complain.”
Her eyes widened.
“Make it happen,” he said. “Off with you.”
She huffed. “I knew you were going to be awful.” A pause. “Sir.”
He shrugged. “Have I ever been anything other than awful, my lady?”
She stalked off, muttering curses under her breath.
That man.