Chapter 2
Raye jolted to shocked, breathless stillness, as raw raging terror flooded through her chest.
She knew that voice. She’d only heard it once before, but she would never forget it, as long as she lived.
It was an orc.
It was Gaelfr.
“Grant me entry, woman,” came his voice, deep and demanding. “I scent you in there, and I know you hear me!”
Oh gods. Gaelfr was here. He’d finally come back. He’d come to steal Svein away from her, forever.
Raye’s gaze belatedly snapped to Svein’s face, to the fear in his wide eyes — and his nostrils were flaring, his heartbeat suddenly pattering against Raye’s hand on his back. Because damn it, he could smell it. He knew.
Too late, Raye flailed her hand toward the bedroom, toward the paltry safety of that tunnel, and Svein rapidly nodded, and lurched off her lap toward it. But then he hesitated in the doorway, his head twisting back so he could breathe in again, his brow deeply furrowing.
Go! Raye silently mouthed at him, with another desperate wave of her hand, and finally he went.
Closing the bedroom door as quietly as he could, lowering the bar behind him with a distinct tink of metal, followed by the sound of the trapdoor opening, and closing.
While the banging at the door rose again, hard enough to shudder the wood against the bars.
“You test my patience, woman,” came the next growl, even deeper and angrier than before. “If you do not grant me entry, I shall wield my axe against your door!”
Raye cringed all over, her frantic eyes darting up and down the thick oaken door. It was solid, and well fortified, with multiple bars and latches, but would it withstand an axe? And how would she ever afford to repair it, the cottage was already far too exposed and dangerous…
“No,” her voice croaked, before she could catch it. “Don’t.”
She could feel the intensity behind the door, the heavy focused attention upon her. “Then open it, woman,” snapped the voice, edged with harsh impatience. “Now.”
Now. Something lurched in Raye’s throat, and too late she realized it was another sob, one too loud to hide behind her hands.
And gods curse her, she needed to hold it together, she needed to focus, to keep Svein safe.
And this horrible orc had threatened her, he’d stolen her mate, he’d ruined her life…
“I shall not harm you,” came Gaelfr’s voice, lower than before. “Or our son.”
Our son. It flared up more wild, desperate terror — what the hell did he mean, our son? — and a sob so shrill it might have been a laugh. “You’re lying,” Raye gulped, as she scrubbed her shaking hands at her wet face. “You’ve come to steal Svein away from me!”
Her voice sounded so panicked, so weak and screeching and helpless, that Raye fully expected to hear a laugh behind the door. Some kind of insult, or mockery, demanding what the hell she had expected. Calling her a wild fool wench, good only for bearing and raising their sons…
But instead, there was silence. Heavy, powerful silence, pooling under the door, tainting the entire room beneath the weight of it.
“I shall not steal him away from you,” Gaelfr finally said, so low Raye had to strain to hear it. “I shall not harm him, or you.”
Raye should have laughed again, or maybe shouted, hurled out as many empty threats as she could think of — but she suddenly felt blank, helpless, utterly exhausted. She’d been up so late working last night, she was so cold and hungry, Svein was trapped in that tiny hole yet again…
“How can I believe you,” she choked. “How can I trust a single damned word you say? You already stole my mate, and ruined my life!”
There was more silence from Gaelfr beyond the door, stretching out long and thick. “I have stolen naught from you, woman,” he said, his voice very steady. “And should you grant me entry, we shall speak of the truth of this.”
No. Raye didn’t want to speak to him. She didn’t want anything to do with him. He was her enemy, her betrayer, she hated him, she hated him…
“I shall not harm you, woman,” came his voice again, almost soft this time. “I shall help you, and guard you, and speak truth to you.”
Help you. Guard you. Speak truth to you. All of it clutching painful and powerful in Raye’s gut, enough that she buried her palms in her eyes, and dragged in deep, bracing breaths. No. She didn’t want that. She couldn’t trust him. She couldn’t.
“I swear this to you, woman,” he said, even softer, a low husky rumble that vibrated through Raye’s belly. “I vow this, before the goddess.”
Before the goddess. It churned up the sudden, spiralling vision of Kalfr on his knees before her, his hand over his heart. I pledge you my troth, he’d told her. I shall honour you, and cherish you, and care for you, for as long as I bear breath. I vow this, before the goddess.
But it didn’t matter. It didn’t. Even if Raye could still see Kalfr murmuring his morning prayers, or speaking of his goddess with such quiet reverence in his voice. She is wise, and brave, and faithful, he’d told her once. Even in the darkest nights, she will never forsake us.
But he’d made that vow to Raye before his goddess, and then he’d broken it. He’d betrayed her, hurt her, threatened her…
And then, he’d kept coming. He’d kept bringing food and coin and gifts. He’d honoured her wishes, and hadn’t once threatened her or harmed her. He’d sought to be a good father to Svein, in the only way she’d allowed it.
The misery surged again, raw and dark with despair, with regret. And before she could stop it, Raye reeled toward the door, and yanked it open.