Chapter 5
FIVE
“Hey, asshole!” Maezii yells and leaps at him, aiming for ankles, shins. He whirls, keeping her at his front, dancing out of the way of her feet and clawed fingers.
He swears. “Get off me, yapping rat! I’ll drop her!”
“Is that a threat? Drop her, bitch! Drop her!”
I ignore them both and go for his weapons belt, but he’s “unarmed” per Sorting requirements. I rear up, trying to get him to dislodge me despite an arm firm across my thighs.
“Put me down, Rathhur.” I use the same tone I use on hysterical fathers.
“Interesting tactic,” I hear the Icarian say. “You may wish to rethink the next few moments. Security approaches. Human female, I strongly advise retreat. Come stand beside me and I will ensure you come to no harm as this foolish one inevitably dies.”
I freeze. I don’t want Sorting security, they’ll kill him.
“Let me go, Rath!” I say, twisting. “You aren’t supposed to touch me. This is against the Sorting rules.”
“I’ll touch my wife how I please,” he snarls, but stops, his chest rising with a deep breath. “You’ve had your fun and made your point. Now you’ll come home.”
“Put me down and we’ll talk.”
He sets me on my feet but immediately bands an arm around my waist, tucking me against his side. I lift my hand and wave cheerily at security.
“We’re fine. My cousin has a terrible sense of humor!”
“Kya Kya, I don’t think he actually has one at all,” Maezii says.
The Icarian steps in front of him.
“Move,” Rathhur says.
Ya?onar clasps his hands behind his back. I wince at the subtle insult. “You have not introduced yourself,” he says.
It’s a very, very polite threat from an Icarian. I kick Rath’s ankle. He glares down at me, then grimaces.
“Ratthur, husband of many years to Kyona Lethergen.” He bares his teeth. “This Uthilsen female at my side who you seek illegal contract with.”
“Rude,” Maezii mutters.
Ya?onar regards him like you would an unruly youth you aren’t certain is worth the energy to teach good manners.
“Half Uthilsen,” I correct, “and No Clan.”
“Clarify your statement,” Ya?onar says, his posture one of polite demand.
“What is needed to clarify? She is my wife, bonded with blood in front of witnesses. She is ineligible to enter the Sorting.”
“Yet she is here. That indicates poor stewardship on your part at the least, or perhaps gross negligence.”
Rath inhales abruptly at the second, now unveiled insult, stepping forward and dragging me with him. “Your neck will feel equally neglected by the loss of your head, greywing.”
The Icarian abandons his impassive expression to allow his brows to rise slowly in astonishment. “You have not yet learned the folly of needlessly escalating a negotiation, boy. I will refrain from responding as deserved to one who is clearly deficient in proper training.”
Mother’s tits. “Rath.”
He shoves me behind him, snarling, talons slipping their sheaths. “She’s mine. ”
Ya?onar’s eyes brighten with a hint of mockery. “Only if you can keep her.”
I dart in front of Rathhur, holding my arms out at my sides. “Sir, I ask for restraint in dealing with my husband. He is overstressed.”
“Ah. So his claim is true.”
“There are mitigating circumstances. The oath bonding took place when we were both beneath the age of consent, and without the knowledge of our parents. Our ages and my lack of clan affiliation automatically invalidated the ceremony.”
Rathhur crosses his arms over his chest, no longer trying to get around me. Because, clearly, the Icarian doesn’t buy my excuse.
“It was not legal,” Rath says, “but there is the letter of the law, and there is the spirit of a freely given oath. Icarians are renowned sticklers for the technicalities of a contract, but also recognize the art involved in the intentions of any sentient being.”
“Ah.” Ya?onar sounds amused. “And you now expect me to honor the. . .spirit. . .of your youthful folly and give up two valuable additions to my household.”
“You will if you don’t want me to rip your wings off and stuff them up your ass.”
Oh, hells.
“I don’t want to assume your male is insane,” Maezii mutters, “but I’m making assumptions.”
My knees buckle. Rath is forced to catch me, which he does, swinging me up into his arms. I let him because he can’t fight with arms full of female, and neither can the Icarian attack.
The Icarian is now fully focused on my male, head tilted as he examines the Orc. Rath never would have gotten away with that kind of challenge with a Fae, but Icarians take a great deal of provocation before they respond to silliness. Usually.
“It is true there are requirements involved before two parties are legally able to enter contract,” Ya?onar says after a protracted silence. I presume he was considering violence, then decided against. “It is also true that we recognize the right of adolescents to give and receive oaths. This is a healthy behavior, and encouraged when properly supervised. Children must learn that when they give their word, it must be honored. They must also learn when it is appropriate and beneficial to renege on an ill-advised contract.” He narrows his eyes, glancing at me. “This is concerning. You have no wish to uphold your word?”
I have to choose my next words carefully. His people don't like liars or contract breakers. “There are several grounds for divorce?—”
Rathhur laughs in my face.
“—among the Uthilsen, including verbal and physical abuse. Rathhar is guilty of both.”
He stops laughing. “You know why we did it. To deflect greater harm.” He snarls, cutting me off when I open my mouth to retort. “I’m not making an excuse. I’m willing to offer blood compensation.”
“I don’t want?—”
“Then consider the law. You've never requested a divorce, we've never gone through the three month waiting period and mandatory hearing. It is your right to request a divorce and lay out your grievances, it's my right to throw myself on my wife’s mercy.”
“Abusers don’t deserve second chances,” Maezii snaps.
Rathhur’s expression hardens. He sets me on my feet. “There are several Human families in town and the outlying community now, Kyona. Several blended species families. My parents gather support to drive them out. If you come with me—” he glances at Maezii “—your Human too, the moment either my mother or father act against you, I will take the clan. I will protect those families.”
“You should protect them anyway. ”
His teeth are shiny, white, his eyes are dark, possessive. “I’ll let them rot if you abandon me.”
“You have no honor . ”
“Without my wife, there is no reason for honor.” He sticks his nose in my face. “Without his wife, an Orc is only beast.”
“This is coercion.”
“Sue me.”
“You’re a bad person, Rath.”
“The worst,” he purrs. “Come home, baby, let me show you how bad I can be.”
My abdomen clenches, heat flooding my body and his nostrils flare. I fight it down, fight down the physical need, dragging my nails along my forearm to draw blood so the pain will bring me back to my hellsdamned senses.
“Or,” he says and as I watch, un impressed, he goes down on one knee, “I’ll offer you a contract. You will be master, and I servant.”
Maezii snorts. “They don't let Immortals indenture themselves to mortals.”
“Are you mortal?” Ya?onar asks me.
“A. . .little. Full Uthilsen can live a thousand years or more with intervention. My expected lifespan is approximately seven centuries.”
“If you don’t offer me a contract,” Rath says softly, “I will fight for you. I will die. It will be a good death.”
I look up at the darkening sky, considering my options. Rath is holding me hostage.
“I believe,” the Icarian says, “that you have been out negotiated. You are unwilling to accept his death, and he is willing to die. You must now retreat and attempt to salvage what little control of the situation you have remaining. I suggest you bind him with the contract.”
I’m being tutored by an Icarian. I wonder how old he is, and the answer is probably very.
When no one speaks, he continues, “It can be argued that since she is half Uthilsen, a contract is permissible. Contracts between Immortals are allowed. It is interesting. I almost wish I might see how this plays out.” The Icarian lifts a hand and signals. Moments later a Sorting orderly approaches.
Ya?onar briefs her while I stand there silently, then speaks to Rathhur, and finally turns to me. “We can modify a standard contract,” she says. “It will be legally binding. You will be responsible for him for a year and a day, same as if it was the other way around.”
Rathhur hasn’t risen, his gaze now on the ground. His head isn't tilted down quite enough to conceal the smile curving his lips.
My eyes narrow. “Why does this feel like this is exactly the outcome you wanted?”
Rathhur lifts his head. “I am honored to serve so worthy a mistress.”
Maezii makes a rude noise in her throat. “He’s scamming, tricky tricky scammer.”
Ya?onar hums. “No, wingless one. He successfully negotiated from a position of greater strength. That is not a scam. It is a lesson. He understood his adversary.”
My shoulders slump. There’s no choice. I know Rath—he doesn’t make idle threats, and the look in his eyes is. . .
Implacable .
“Fine,” I say. “We’ll make the contract. A year and a day for you to prove, somehow, that I’m wrong and you’ve changed. That you deserve me.”
“I will never deserve you, Ky’a,” he says, and rises. “But what male ever deserves his wife? None of us would be married if it was a matter of deserve.”
I glance at Maezii.
“There and back again,” she mutters.