Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Torvolk
The day before the Midwinter celebration, I could no longer take the agony. Every moment of the day and night, I felt as if my chest was being squeezed by a tight band; my throat was raw for no reason; I had to consciously fight to keep my claws retracted.
‘Twas pure torture to spend so much time with Isadora, yet I couldn’t seem to stay away.
She was the light in my world, when the days were so short and overcast. She was the reason my heart thundered in my chest each morning when she smiled at me; she was my last thought before I fell asleep each night.
The fact that I slept curled around her wasn’t helping either.
Isadora wasn’t a restful sleeper, and I had to admit myself amused by the way she more often than not ended up sprawled atop me. I didn’t mind though; I laid there holding her, fighting with my Kteer’s urging to taste lick take Mate plunge taste claim take Mate claim.
Those were long nights.
And yet…
And yet, the thought of not being with Isadora seemed impossible as well. No matter my pain, I sat across from her each meal. I helped her with her chores. I pretended we could live together in this small cottage and make it into a successful home.
Each night, the last thing she said to me was “You will not leave me, will you?” and each night I told her I would be there when she awoke, because I could promise no more than that.
And each time the scent of her arousal teased my tongue, I would find an excuse to escape into the woods where I’d jerk my own cock and pretend ‘twas good enough.
It never was.
Painting a poor sternka bush with my seed was not the satisfaction I needed.
But by the day before the Midwinter Feast, I thought I’d go mad from the way I was being torn in so many directions. I didn’t break my fast but instead threw on my heavy boots and my cloak.
I was headed for the stables, but at the door I paused, waiting for Isadora to ask if I would return. When she didn’t, I turned to see her standing at the table, sleeves rolled up as she kneaded bread for tomorrow’s celebration.
“I’m heading out on a ride.” I didn’t know where, so I couldn’t tell her.
She shot me a grin, made more impish by the fact there was flour smeared across her nose.
“Enjoy yourself. In a few days, we will have more sunlight. ‘Tis something to look forward to.”
My chest tightened even more to hear her positivity and joy and know I couldn’t sink into it.
“Aye,” I rasped. “I’ll be…some time.”
Her hands didn’t stop their work, and she nodded happily. “This morning we are all making dough for sweet bread, and we are meeting at the bakers to let them set for tomorrow. After that I have been tasked with making the glaze for the roast, and I promised Amma I would help decorate the village square.”
My hand tightened on the handle, knowing I couldn’t leave her and I couldn’t stay.
“Do ye need help?”
She flicked her fingers, then giggled when the flour poofed over the table.
“Nay, Vartok promised there’d be no sparring today, so the women are planning on pressing their Mates into the heavy lifting.”
Mates .
My eyes closed and I dropped my forehead briefly against the wooden door. My Kteer hated hearing Isadora speaking of Mates and other males, when I couldn’t give her what she deserved.
Ye are the Bloodfire Ranger. Ye have a duty. Elsewhere.
“Then I’ll leave ye to it,” I choked, lifting my head and inhaling in determination, pushing open the door.
I paused, waiting for her question.
You will return, aye ?
She asked it each time I left. And each time I assured her I would. I hadn’t broken that vow yet.
I peeked over my shoulder, but Isadora was focused on the dough. I told myself ‘twas a good thing she hadn’t asked. A good thing she was becoming more comfortable with the village and her place in it, and wasn’t so focused on her safety that she wondered about my return.
You will return, aye ?
“Aye,” I whispered to the door, too low for her to hear.
Aye .
No one questioned me when I saddled a horse and rode out, but my clan members waved and called out greetings as they hurried from place to place, bundled against the cold. I saw excitement in their expressions and heard the welcome in their words.
The last sennight was the longest I’d stayed in Bloodfire Village in a long time, and I had to admit that I was intrigued. Infatuated, mayhap. I enjoyed being able to discuss training and technique with the men. I appreciated their helpful suggestions and teasing jokes. And I definitely liked the variety of food and comforts their Mates brought to the village.
Ye cannae allow yerself to fall in love with village life any more than ye can fall in love with a life with Isadora. Ye’re leaving a few days after Midwinter, at the full moon .
Scowling, I urged my horse into a gallop, and the animal seemed to revel in the freedom.
But I couldn’t outrun the truth.
Because I wasn’t falling in love with a life with Isadora . I was already in love with her.
Fooook .
I rode for hours, and ‘twas not until midday that I recognized the unconscious direction I’d taken. I was heading toward the standing stones.
Inspired, I continued.
After all, ‘twas the first time in a sennight my cock wasn’t hard, the first time my Kteer wasn’t whining at me to claim Isadora as my own. Instead, ‘twas howling about the freedom and fresh air and the feel of a weapon at my side.
Gods-damned primitive Kteer .
Then sun was already sinking in the west when I approached the stones. As expected, there were a few footprints around them—likely the Keeper’s—but no signs of concern. After all, no one could pass through the veil at any part of the moon’s cycle except full.
But when I reached his cabin, I did encounter a surprise.
Apparently, Isadora and I were not the only ones to cross through the stones last full moon, and the Keeper was…preoccupied.
Still, I appreciated being able to tease him for a change. The poor bastard didn’t know how to handle his visitor, and I opted to leave him to it rather than interfere too much.
But by the time I switched out horses to head back to the village, I knew night would fall soon. After all, ‘twas almost the longest night of the year. For certes, the horse and I had to go slower since the moon was only half, and I ate cold rations on the trail as the night wind howled.
‘Twas not the first time I’d traveled in the dark of night in the dead of winter; a Ranger was used to such hardships.
But ‘twas the first time I was so anxious to get home.
To Isadora.
By the time I returned the horse to the stables, the village was mostly asleep. Likely my clan members were exhausted from a day of preparation and looking forward to tomorrow’s celebrations.
I slipped into my cottage to find the fire already banked. Isadora was asleep on top of the blankets, still fully dressed. And a meal was waiting for me on the table.
‘Twas a kind gesture, another way she tried to take care of me.
But right then, I didn’t need food. I needed her .
I slid my boots off and climbed into bed with her, gathering her in my arms and tucking us under the warm covers. She mumbled in her sleep and rolled over, pressing her cheek against my shoulder, and my Kteer relaxed, softening into this perfect moment.
“Do not leave me,” she murmured.
I dropped a kiss to the crown of her head and whispered, “I’ll be here, lass.”
And I fell asleep thinking about the Keeper and my own problems.
The day of the Midwinter Feast dawned cold and overcast, which was typical for the Highlands, and seemed fitting. If the sun barely showed its face on Midwinter Day, ‘twas a sign that the coming days would be warmer.
Plus, it meant we all snuggled in bed longer than usual.
I have to confess that I’d never seen the appeal of snuggling or bed afore Isadora landed in my life, and now…now I did.
She’s in yer bed and in yer arms, but she’s no’ yers .
The reminder sent my chest tightening and made my throat all raw with itchy anger once more. I sighed and scrubbed my hand over my face, cursing myself and my Kteer .
“Good morning,” Isadora chirped, pushing herself up in bed. “Blessed Midwinter.”
This was a holiday humans didn’t celebrate, but she’d embraced it already. My voice was gruff with fondness when I grunted, “Blessed Midwinter.”
I saw her hesitate, then she leaned over and planted a kiss on one of my cheekbones. Then she rolled out of bed, but not before I saw her own cheeks pinken with a blush. I laid there in bed, staring after her in bemusement as my fingertips brushed against the spot where her lips had been.
“Torvolk, may I ask you something?” Her back was to me, and she was tying one of her new kerchiefs around her hair.
I felt pride, knowing she was using one of my gifts to her. “Aye, lass, of course.”
She suddenly turned back to me, one hand on her hip. “Do you know you only ever call me lass ? Not my name? No, wait.” She waved away the words. “That was not my question.”
I’d blinked at her outburst, and now my lips tugged into a frown. I knew I’d been trying to hold myself back…but had it really become so bad I’d never called her by her given name?
“What is it then?” I managed.
“Your eyes.” She moved around the end of the bed, but her motions had turned less certain, and she was watching me through her lashes, as if wasn’t certain how I would react. “Sometimes they are…”
Frowning, I pushed myself upright. “They are what?”
“Your eyes are bright green, Torvolk. Right now, I mean. When I first met you, they were black. And sometimes they are mostly black with some green. But more often than not, lately they have been fully green.” Her fingers clasped and unclasped themselves in front of her. “I mean no offense.”
“I’m no’ offended.” My tone belied my words as I swung my legs off the bed and pushed myself out of the warm cocoon. “’Tis something that happens to orcs when we’re feeling different emotions. Rage.” Love . “Fear.” I stomped behind the screen, as much to hide myself as to perform my morning ablutions.
“I have seen this,” Isadora admitted. “Are you angry now?”
“Nay,” I grunted. “I’m…hungry.” Aye, ‘twas a good explanation. “Today is a big day.”
“Oh! I will start some porridge.”
I felt guilty for such a lie, but when I emerged, Isadora was bustling about the cottage as if she’d always lived here, preparing to break our fast. She’d ceased asking questions I couldn’t give her answers to.
Because I didn’t know them myself.
‘Twas not until I felt the sharp stabs of pain that I realized I was digging into my chest with my claws again, as if trying to scratch an itch on my heart. Or my Kteer . Was this horrible heat, this pain , this uncertainty …was it linked to my eyes changing color? I hadn’t realized that was happening.
Have ye looked at yer reflection ? The Keeper had asked me that the first night I’d carried Isadora through the stones, and Vartok had asked the same thing.
What did it mean?
With a snort, I scrubbed my hand over my face and realized what I was going to have to do. I was going to have to ask Nan, and she’d crow about being right .
Midwinter was a sacred time for orcs, the moment at which light returns to the world, and when the days begin to grow longer. The Bloodfire Clan celebrated with food, music, ale, and whisky, and four times more shenanigans than usual.
The day was loud and full of festivities, is the point.
I found myself swept up in the merriment: drinking with the males, and helping the females tote food back and forth from the fires to the eating circles and keeping the flames burning. I swear we went through an entire tree by noon, but ‘twas worth it to see so many of my kinsmen warm and happy.
And through it all, Isadora was there. She was part of the clan now, and she knew everyone. When I was gone and she was alone in my home, would she take a lover? Would she find a Mate?
The pain that pierced my chest at the thought almost sent me to my knees. I bent over, gasping.
Isadora in the arms of another male. Isadora finding her Mate.
I squeezed my eyes shut. I wanted her to be happy, did I not? She needed to be safe and cared for.
No’ like this .
“Grandson,” came the quiet voice behind me. “I think ‘tis time we spoke.”
Nan .
“Aye,” I croaked, knowing I couldn’t avoid this conversation.
The tiny woman latched onto my elbow and tugged. Even bent over I was taller than her, but she had an iron will I couldn’t defy. So I stumbled after her toward her cottage, glancing back once to ensure Isadora was safe with Myra.
Nan muttered to herself as I followed her into her cottage. Like every other clan member, she’d allowed her hearth fire to die out overnight and would relight it tonight from the communal fire, signaling our new year.
But this meant ‘twas dark inside.
“Leave the door open,” she commanded. “And open those shutters.”
Ignoring the cold, I did as she instructed as she bustled about, pulling down crocks and stoppered jugs from shelves. ‘Twas not the first time I’d seen her brew a concoction, so I stood by with my arms folded under my cloak and watched her.
“Ye, my lad, are as stubborn as yer father. And yer grandfather, now that I think of it. None of the three of ye could see the nose in front of yer face.”
“Oh, so ye’re no’ to blame for any of that?”
“Me?” She scowled over her shoulder. “My nose is lovely.”
“I meant the stubbornness, Nan.”
“I’m perfect in every way.”
“Aye,” I drawled, “Yer humility is peerless.”
She made a rude gesture I hadn’t realized my grandmother knew.
“I mean ,” she stressed, “ye’ve been living with that sweet lass, and ye’ve determined naught, am I right?”
This was about Isadora ? “I’ve determined what I need to determine. I’m the Bloodfire Ranger.”
“And ye think this means ye cannae have a future with her. I’ve had to watch ye tearing yerself apart because of this stubbornness.” She scooped water into a bowl and set it on the table beneath the open window. “Ye cannae see the truth, can ye?”
“What truth, Nan?”
“Oh, for fook’s sake!” She clucked her tongue in frustration. “Ye will have a future with Isadora, Torvolk, because ye have to.”
With those prophetic words, she poured something dark and inky into the water bowl, but I’d already stepped forward, my arms dropping into fists by my sides.
“What do ye mean?” I barked, torn between terror and a fierce sort of joy.
“Look,” my wee grandmother commanded, pointing at the bowl. “Look, ye complete idiot, look!”
Frowning at her for her cryptic reply, I stepped up to the table, planted my palms on the wood, and leaned forward, peering into the dark depths.
Except…
Except the dark surface of the water showed me .
“Ye havenae looked at yer reflection lately, have ye, laddie?”
My eyes glowed green.
Not just green, but glowing green . The color was shocking. I startled, rearing back before forcing myself closer.
“I’ve never…why?” I rasped. One set of fingertips rose to pry my eyelids open further, to look for the cause.
“’Tis a Mating Heat, Torvolk.” Her voice turned gentler. “All of us can see it, we’ve been waiting for ye to work yer way through. But ‘tis getting worse.”
My hand dropped to my chest and I pressed my claws into my skin.
“Heat,” I muttered.
“Aye, and anger and confusion and fear and apparently a sort of itchiness.” I could hear the shrug in Nan’s voice, but I couldn’t drag my gaze away from my reflection. “’Tis like puberty, only a hundred times worse.”
I finally lifted my head. “Puberty? What’s?—”
“No’ important. A terrible human thing, like taxes and boiled beef and being so terrified of the great cosmos above our head that we had to invent a god to stick up there to protect us from all that nothingness.”
I shuddered. “I cannae imagine aught worse than boiled beef, Nan.”
“Och, well, puberty is when yer mind quits working and yer body works thrice as fast, and neither of them agree on aught.”
That did sound horrible.
“And even that’s no’ as bad as a Mating Heat?” I murmured.
She made a flicking motion with her fingers, although her expression stayed serious. “I grew tired of watching ye bumble through this alone, Torvolk. Ye might be our Ranger, and that might mean ye will be leaving us…but ye cannae leave yer Mate.”
Mate Mate Mate Mate.
The word pounded through my head, which had suddenly gone otherwise empty.
Mate.
Isadora is my Mate .
Aye.
Aye, the simplicity, the perfection of it, ‘twas undeniable.
In that moment, I knew ‘twas the truth.
There is a kenning .
I knew her. My very soul knew Isadora.
Slowly, I turned away from my grandmother to peer out the door toward the festivities.
Isadora was my Mate.
Could I convince her?
“Go,” Nan whispered. “Go put us all out of yer misery. Go claim yer Mate.”