Chapter Twelve
Beatrice
The Orc camp is too loud. Their language is all bark and snarl, but somehow they all understand each other.
The place runs like a village, just a more primitive, muddied, bone-decorated version.
Everyone’s hauling, hammering, shouting, cooking.
I hate that it reminds me a little of Havenmoor, just much dirtier.
And I hate, more than anything, the reluctant, grudging respect it forces from me.
Cassia, on the other hand, seems oddly calm about being a prisoner.
“You seem fine,” I accuse her as I watch her braid a strip of leather into some kind of bracelet.
She shrugs. “What can I say? I’m adaptable.”
I slump against the bars of our cage, glaring at the bustling camp. My thighs are still sore from yesterday’s forced march, my breasts ache from lack of relief, and my pride? Yeah, that’s definitely bruised.
Stupid, stubborn, runaway Beatrice.
A commotion near the edge of the camp catches my attention. There’s some shouting, scuffling and then an unfamiliar, cocky voice cutting through the ruckus.
“—just passing through, friends! No need for the rough handling!”
My eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
That’s definitely not an Orc.
Cassia goes rigid beside me, her fingers freezing mid-braid. Her eyes widen, and for the first time since I met her, she looks genuinely afraid.
“No,” she breathes. “No!”
I follow her gaze.
A man—sort of—is being dragged into camp by two massive Orcs. He’s lean, dressed in tattered leathers, with dark, wild, tangled hair and a pair of wolf ears twitching atop his head. A tail swishes behind him, flicking with lazy amusement despite the fact that he’s currently being manhandled.
Cassia makes a sound like a cornered animal.
I frown at her distress and whisper, “Do you know him?”
“He’s one of them,” she hisses back.
One of them. The wolves. The ones she was running from.
Ah. Shit.
The wolf-man grins as he’s shoved forward, his russet eyes scanning the village with casual interest. They land on our cage and then on me.
His smirk deepens, and I narrow my eyes.
Try me, fleabag.
Rurak steps forward, arms crossed. “Ulric.” His voice is a low growl. “You are not welcome here.”
Ulric spreads his hands in mock surrender. “Come now, Rurak. Is that any way to greet an old friend?”
“We are not friends.”
“Acquaintances, then.”
Rurak’s nostrils flare, but before he can respond, Ulric turns his attention to the rest of the camp, his voice carrying like he’s announcing a festival.
“I come bearing news! The Minotaurs are restless. Blackthorn Tribe’s second is sniffing around your borders as we speak.”
My breath catches.
Silas.
My heart gives a traitorous, hopeful lurch.
Of course he noticed I was gone. For once, his infuriating vigilance is the most beautiful thing in the world. Captured by Orcs, but rescued by him? I’ll take it. It’s practically a fairytale, if the princess were an idiot.
Cassia shoots me a questioning look, but I keep my face carefully blank.
Ulric continues, still grinning. “Big, broody fellow. Dark hair. Glare that could curdle milk.” He pauses, then adds, almost too casually, “Seems very interested in something—or someone—that might have wandered into your territory.”
Rurak growls. “We have taken nothing.”
“Of course not.” Ulric’s tone is light, but his eyes dart to me again.
“Minotaurs have no business near Orc land unless they want their heads mounted in the chief’s hut.”
The wolf-man grins, completely unfazed. “Oh, I don’t disagree, but the Bull isn’t on your land. Just…near the edge of it.” His amber eyes flick to me. “Waiting.”
Rurak’s tusks gleam as he bares them in a snarl. “Then, he can wait until his bones turn to dust.”
Ulric chuckles, rubbing his neck where an Orc had him by the scruff. “I’ll be sure to pass that along. Although…” He tilts his head, feigning thought. “Might be smarter to just give back whatever it is he’s missing. Bulls get testy about their things.”
Their things, I bristle. I am not a thing. But my pulse kicks up anyway. Because if Silas is out there…and if this infuriating, untrustworthy dog is hinting at it…
Cassia’s nails dig into my arm. “Beatrice,” she whispers urgently. “What is he doing?”
I watch the Wolf, who’s now casually inspecting his claws like this is all some amusing game. His ears twitch, though, sharp and alert.
He’s playing both sides.
And I think—I hope—I’m on the side that ends with me out of this damn cage.
Rurak leans in, “Tell your Bull this, Mutt: if he sets one hoof on Orc land, we’ll send his hide back to his Chief.”
Ulric rolls his shoulders, flashing Rurak his most disarming grin. “Look, I’m just saying, you’ve got something here that certain parties would pay very handsomely for.”
“And why would we trade through you?”
“Because, the Bull’s offering twenty obsidian blades and a pouch of sovereigns for the return of his little runaway.” He jerks his chin at me. “The angry one with the great tits.”
My hands fly to my chest. “Excuse me—”
“Twenty blades for one female?” Rurak strokes his tusks, considering. Then he snorts. “Fine. The cow goes back. But the other one stays.”
Cassia goes pale, grabbing my arm. “This is bad,” she whispers. “If they take his deal—”
“Then, I get out,” I whisper back.
“And I stay trapped here!”
Before I can respond, Ulric’s head snaps up. His pupils dilate as he stares at Cassia, before he lifts his head and inhales deeply through his nose.
Rurak notices. “Problem, wolf?”
Cassia goes rigid as Ulric stalks toward us, his mahogany eyes locked onto her and he sniffs where her fingers grip the wood.
“You,” he breathes.
Cassia kicks dirt through the bars at him. “Back off, mutt!”
He does take an involuntary step backwards, then visibly wrestles himself back under control. His voice comes out strangled. “New terms.”
Rurak raises a brow.
“That one comes, too,” he grits out, pointing to Cassia.
The Orcs laugh. Rurak crosses his arms. “Why would we—”
Ulric’s lips peel back in a snarl. “Because she’s mine.” The growl in his voice sends shivers down my spine.
Cassia makes a sound like a teakettle boiling over.
Rurak, however, looks delighted. “Ah! A mating scent!” He claps Ulric on the back hard enough to stagger him.
“Congratulations, the price just doubled!”
Ulric doesn’t hesitate. “Done.”
Cassia makes a sound of pure outrage. I step on her foot before she can ruin our escape.