Chapter 16
Clover
King Lix’tuk has been busy most of the day, so I’ve had to find ways to entertain myself.
Not that it’s difficult to find something to do in this fortress. I’ve spent most of my day failing to learn orcish, and now I’m reading a fiction book about holidays. Apparently, before The Great War, there were a lot of human holidays. We don’t celebrate any of them anymore.
“Christmas sounds awesome,” I say, reading about Santa Claus, presents, and trees filled with lights. “We would never have been able to afford a holiday like that in Troona, though.”
After I finish my book, my mind flashes to last night.
I’m not sure what I almost walked in on, exactly, but King Lix’tuk didn’t seem happy to see me.
His covers were tented by the same thing I squirmed against. I think he was touching himself like I used to when I was alone in the barn loft back home.
But if that’s the case, I don’t know why he didn’t finish.
Surely, he didn’t stop on my account. He’s touched me twice.
He’s made me climax both times. If he needed that kind of relief, I would have helped.
I would have squirmed against him if he wanted me to.
I would have even touched him if he could stand being touched by a filthy human, as he calls us.
He was grumpier than usual during breakfast, even after he’d had coffee.
He wasn’t in a good mood at lunch, either.
I’ve gotten used to his normal demeanor, but it seemed like he was more frustrated.
Annoyed. I hope I’m not the cause of it.
Not that I can do anything about it if I am.
I’m his gift, whether he wants me or not.
I’m flipping through another book about orcish history and language when the door opens. King Lix’tuk doesn’t step into the library. He just glares at me from the doorway.
“Dinner time?” I ask.
He gives me one word, “Yes,” then he turns away immediately.
He’s still in a foul mood. I leave the library, and he’s already in the dining hall, so I prepare dinner. Once the Reviver is finished, I bring the plates to the table.
“What would you like to drink?” I ask.
“Grog.”
“Okay, I’ll be right back,” I say.
He was in a great mood the day he had enough grog to put a slight stagger in his step.
A merciful drunk. Maybe even a playful one, considering what happened when I got to his bedchamber.
But I guess I’m just thinking about myself again.
Acting like a human. Clearly, he didn’t enjoy it as much as I did.
I get a grog for King Lix’tuk and one of the blended fruit drinks for myself. I’m not sure what kind of fruit it is, but the liquid is green. My first sip is more sour than sweet, but I like it.
“Are you going to watch another movie tonight?” I ask curiously while we eat our dinner.
“Not tonight,” he growls. “I need some fresh air.”
“Oh, you’re leaving Zrogmul?” I ask, a little surprised.
“Not really. I’m going up to the roof,” he rumbles, pointing toward the ceiling. “Good place to relax and stare at the stars for a while.”
That means I may not see him until bedtime. I’ve entertained myself, but it does get lonely here. I’m not used to isolation. Back home, there was always someone to interact with. People who didn’t seem to be annoyed by my presence. I probably shouldn’t ask to be included, but I can’t help myself.
“May I come?” I glance up at him nervously.
He glares at me while he chews a bite of his meat, then washes it down with grog.
Maybe I shouldn’t have asked. Roof time may be code for wanting to be alone.
But he’s been alone all day and he’s not the only one.
I could spend more time in the library. Watch a movie on my own.
Maybe I’ve just started looking forward to spending a little time with him.
“Fine,” he barks, but he doesn’t look happy about it.
He doesn’t say much else while he finishes his meal, so I don’t interrupt.
Part of me wants to ask if he’d prefer to be alone.
I truly don’t want to be a source of annoyance or frustration.
If I upset him too much, I could end up in the dungeon instead of sleeping at the foot of his bed, even if he’s said he won’t whip me unless I do something foolish.
“I need to grab a few things,” his deep voice startles me, rising from his chair. “I’ll wait for you at the end of the hallway by my throne room.”
“Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I finish eating and clearing the table,” I respond. “Should I bring more grog?”
“Yeah, grab a few bottles for me. Get another drink for yourself as well,” he growls. “We’ll be up there a while.”
I watch him leave, then I quickly finish what I can of my meal.
I’ll never be able to finish everything on my plate, even if I hate wasting food.
I can barely finish the sandwiches we have for lunch.
I’m eating better than I ever have. I can tell I’m getting stronger and healthier.
At least I’ve got that going for me, even if King Lix’tuk doesn’t really want me here.
After I’m done in the kitchen, I find him waiting in the hallway.
He’s got a bag stuffed with fur and some other things.
He slings it over his shoulder and steps through a door, so I follow him, carrying several bottles of grog and fruit drinks.
I brought more than he asked for. Wish I’d thought to look for a bag.
We climb several flights of stairs until we get to the door that leads to the roof. The steps are made of the same gray stone as everything else, and the walls are illuminated by artificial torches.
But when we step out onto the roof, all the light comes from the moon and stars overhead.
I gasp when I see them, because everything is so clear.
Back home, there was always a lot of dust in the air.
We could see the stars, but not like this.
Here, it doesn’t look like there’s anything between us and the stars except a few bugs.
“Kind of chilly,” I say, putting the bottles down and rubbing my arms.
“That’s why I brought some furs,” he growls. “It always gets colder in Uzrirgard after the sun goes down.”
He places his bag on the ground and removes the furs. There are several chairs up here, made from stone like they’re designed to withstand the elements. He covers two of them with fur, then puts some stuff on the table between them. I gather our drinks and bring them over.
“It’s a good night for looking at the stars,” he says, sitting in his chair. “Not a cloud in sight.”
“Yeah, it’s beautiful,” I admit, sinking into the mound of fur on the reclined chair. The fur makes it as soft as the pile I sleep on every night, and I pull some of them around me for warmth. “Do you come up here often?”
“Not as much as I used to,” he answers, reaching for a bottle of grog.
We sip our drinks and enjoy the view. I’ve never seen so much of the sky. It looks incredible, and I definitely wouldn’t mind spending a few nights like this. This might be even better than watching a movie.
After he finishes his bottle of grog, he reaches for a wooden box and puts it in his lap.
He sits up slightly and opens the box. I watch curiously, because I’m not sure what it is until he pulls out a pipe.
I’m familiar with those. Some of the older men in Troona smoked them, although my father told me the only thing they had to put in their pipes was dried shrubs.
“Is that tobacco?” I ask, unsure if I’ve ever actually seen it.
“No, most orcs don’t like tobacco,” he growls, packing something green into the pipe. “This is moiraroot. It helps bring clarity. Complements the buzz from the grog.”
“Oh okay, interesting,” I say, watching as he lights the pipe with a small device that produces fire with a flick.
King Lix’tuk takes a pull from the pipe and holds the smoke in his lungs for a few seconds before exhaling a cloud. He does that several times, the haze blocking out the sky over our heads for a few seconds each time.
“You can try it if you want,” he growls, offering the pipe to me. “Just be careful. I doubt you can handle it as well as I can.”
“Okay,” I say apprehensively, taking the pipe.
The smell is skunky and reminds me of the scent of burnt fuel in the air in Concord City.
I’m a little concerned about inhaling it, but he puffed on it like it was nothing, so I mimic what he did.
I pull on the pipe, inhale deeply, and immediately cough so violently I nearly drop the pipe on the ground.
“Big hit for a little human girl,” he says, taking the pipe from my hand. “That should be enough for you.”
I don’t argue. I can’t. I’m coughing my head off and struggling to breathe. Once I’m able to get a few breaths, I sip my drink, which helps clear my throat.
“Wow, that’s harsh. I feel like I burned my lungs!” I exclaim, panting before I sip my drink again.
“No, this is the smoothest moiraroot in Uzrirgard,” he says, puffing his pipe a few times.
“Then I don’t think that’s for me,” I say, shaking my head as I lean back in my chair.
Except after a few minutes, I feel it, and realize the harsh coughing fit wasn’t that bad.
It definitely complements the light buzz I have from the alcohol.
The buzz settles heavier in my head than my body.
I’m not sure if it really brings clarity.
My mind feels sluggish, like I don’t care enough to think about anything. Maybe that’s what orcs call clarity.
He puts his pipe down, opens another bottle of grog, and gets comfortable.
He stares at the stars, not saying anything at all, and I follow his movements.
He came up here for peace and quiet. I’ll try not to annoy him.
That’s easier now that my mind is just a blank slate, and nothing seems to matter.
“Most of what you see has a name,” King Lix’tuk says, finally breaking the silence. “Constellations named by orcs long ago.”