Chapter 8 #2
“A five-minute rest,” Rognar says, his quiet voice carrying over the courtyard with the effectiveness of a hammer.
I am proud of him. He used to never speak in public if he could help it, ashamed of his lack of sibilance, a shame I was all too aware of.
I have my own shame about the circumstances surrounding what happened to his voice, of how he cried so much as an abandoned newborn that it broke his vocal cords.
I tried to rescue him, and nearly broke down my chamber door trying to get to my baby, but that was not enough.
If only I had left his father before Rognar was born, then his father would never have been able to hurt him.
It was my own weakness in staying, my foolish hope that I could still reach and fix Guruk that doomed my son.
But now that he has been with Adalind, he has started speaking more in public, no longer relying on his closest advisors to relay commands for him.
His confidence is growing even stronger every day that he is in a loving relationship.
The ranks break, orcs moving to take their five-minute rest, and Rognar moves up the stairs to meet me and Adalind.
His face is grim and expressionless as he approaches, his thoughts hidden, though, as his mother, I can sense that he is still unhappy about me leaving, but doesn’t want to fight about it any longer.
As he reaches us, he pulls Adalind toward him and gives her a kiss in greeting that is perhaps a little too lingering to be decorous, but I merely smile and flick my eyes away to give them some privacy.
“My King,” Adalind chides softly, her voice a little shy, “we are in public.”
“Let the whole kingdom know that I love my mate,” he responds, his voice growling a little.
“But your mother is right here,” Adalind says, sounding vaguely amused.
That brings my eyes back to them, and I let my smile grow. “I am only glad to see you both so happy. It is a good memory to take with me.”
Rognar meets my eyes, and his own smile dims somewhat. My poor son. He is struggling with the idea of my leaving more than he wants to let on. I step down the stairs to him, reaching up and cupping his cheek. “It will be fine, my son,” I say. “Vena’s grace will watch over us all.”
“I wish I could share your faith, Mother,” Rognar grumbles out in his broken voice. “But I fear that the gods have better things to do than watch over us mortals.”
I pat his cheek again, shaking my head with amusement. “Do not speak your blasphemies aloud when I am standing so close to you. I do not wish to be caught in the crossfire.”
Rognar snorts at that, his face softening a bit in humor. “I’m sure when the gods punish me, they will wait until I am alone.”
My heart twinges at the thought of anything happening to my precious son, but I keep the smile on my face. Changing the subject, I say, “I’d best leave now. I do not want my party to wait for me long.”
Rognar sighs, but nods, a weariness in the gesture. Has he been sleeping well? There is so much on his shoulders right now. “We’ll escort you to Wodred.”
Hearing Wodred’s name after my conversation with Adalind makes me blush a little, surprising me, but I school my features fairly easily. That is a young girl’s reaction to hearing a handsome male’s name, not a soon-to-be grandmother’s. I need to not let Adalind’s teasing convolute my emotions.
Rognar and Adalind don’t seem to notice my reaction and walk with me toward my three companions.
Dame Zera sits stiffly on her mount, pointedly ignoring Gunag, who unabashedly stares at her, as if daring her to do the same.
Traveling with the two of them will be .
. . interesting. Wodred ignores both of them, looking grave in the early morning light.
He is equipped for travel. His ax is attached to his hip and a large quiver of javelins is on his back.
He obviously expects trouble on the journey.
Wodred sits astride his warbeast, its brown fur and scales shining in the early sunlight, obviously a well-taken care of beast. I try not to get nervous standing so close to the huge creature.
I have been around warbeasts before, but they are always intimidating, a mix of dragon and wolf, bred for war and speed.
Guruk used to have his warbeast nip at me to see my reaction and add to my humiliation in court.
I know that any mount of Wodred’s would be far too well trained to nip at me and its rider too honorable to play such jokes on me.
Still, I can’t help but remember those times with uneasiness when I am so close to the creature.
“Well met, General Wodred,” Rognar says. “Is all ready?”
“We are prepared for the journey,” Wodred responds evenly, his voice steady as always. “If the Lady Melelea will choose who to ride with, we may depart.”
“Ride with?” I query, surprise lacing my voice. “I will not ride my horse?”
“Apologies, my lady,” Wodred says, sounding genuinely sorry, “but your horse would not be able to keep up with our mounts. Dame Zera’s horse had to be fitted with a speed rune to keep up with our warbeasts, but she is trained in such things.
It would be extremely dangerous for you to ride alone on an enchanted mount by yourself without the proper training, and you do not have a warbeast. The best course of action would be for you to ride with one of us.
Our mounts are strong enough to hold two riders. ”
His words are logical, yet they give me pause.
I thought I was going to ride my horse, Glory, with whom I am comfortable.
But it makes sense that if we are to move as quickly as possible, we would need to go at the full speed of the warbeasts.
Damn. My eyes flick first to Gunag, who is still looking hungrily at Dame Zera, then at the stone-faced she-knight.
Neither seems like a pleasant traveling companion, which leaves Wodred.
Wodred, whom Adalind has just teased me about.
I would have thought nothing of riding with him yesterday, but with Adalind’s words ringing in my ears, I can’t help but feel self-conscious. But there is no real choice, it seems.
“Very well,” I reply. “I will ride with you, General Wodred, if that will be agreeable.”
“It would be my honor,” he intones gravely, holding out a hand to me. I see that his claws are entirely sheathed to protect me from accidental harm. A novelty. Guruk almost never sheathed his claws for me, whether through carelessness or malicious cruelty, it was hard to tell.
Stop thinking of Guruk, I chide myself. And stop comparing him to Wodred.
I take the proffered hand and get my foot into the stirrups.
“I’ll bring you up in front of me,” Wodred tells me. “It’ll be easier for me to catch you if you fall that way.”
That all makes sense, but my self-consciousness increases.
Riding in front of a male seems . . . intimate.
My back to his chest, my rump dangerously close to his cock.
But my hand is already in his and it would embarrass us both if I made a fuss now, so I simply nod and let him pull me up, sitting side-saddle on the space in front of the orc general.
That way it’s my thigh against him, not my rump. Not so intimate.
When I am situated to my liking, I look down at Rognar and Adalind, both of whom are looking at me with grave expressions, though I think I might detect a hint of a sparkle in Adalind’s eye.
“I will return as soon as I am able,” I tell them.
“May the gods look after you and your quest,” Adalind says formally. “And may the wind be always at your back.”
“Be safe, Mother,” Rognar says. Then he looks at Wodred, an intensity in his eyes. “Protect her, General.”
“With my life,” Wodred vows, his voice rumbling against my ear. “No harm shall come to her while I yet breathe.”
“Then good hunting, my friend,” Rognar nods. “Bring me back a demon’s head.”
“With pleasure,” growls Wodred before reining his warbeast around and urging it into motion. The scenery blurs as we ride out of the castle gates and head north.
To wherever fate intends.