Chapter 13 #2
Gaelfr shot another unreadable look toward Raye, perhaps because — of course. They didn’t have time for any of that, because Gaelfr was still leaving, once Kalfr came. And curse it, she needed to remember that. She couldn’t trust him. She knew nothing about him.
But Gaelfr didn’t counter Svein’s offer, either, and carefully turned a page of the book with his claw. “For now, are there pictures?” he asked, with a half-smile. “I should be able to follow those, I ken.”
Svein nodded, and promptly began flipping pages in the book.
Showing Gaelfr one illustration after the other, all of various places and people within Orc Mountain.
Many of which Gaelfr clearly recognized, and Raye didn’t miss the continued brightness of his eyes as he stared, or the occasional spasms in his throat.
“I did not know they had made so many changes to the mountain, since I left,” he told Svein, with a catch in his voice. “Nor brought so many orcs back to live there. Look, here is Olarr, one of our Bautul battle-captains, with his human mate — and ach, do they now have… human younglings?”
His voice rose, his eyes staring at the page, at where a bulky orc and a handsome human man were standing together with two smiling human children — one of them a girl about Svein’s age, one a boy perhaps a few years older.
Gaelfr seemed strangely struck by the sight, and blinked at it for long enough that Svein cast him an uncertain look, and tentatively turned the page.
“And this,” he said, with a hopeful smile, “is Papa Kalfr’s mushroom garden!”
Papa Kalfr’s what? Raye stepped closer to look down at the page, which she’d glimpsed a few times before — an underground cave of sorts, with a variety of mushrooms growing from the walls and floors.
But she’d never read the small text at the bottom, which credited Kalfr of Clan Bautul for his help and guidance in the garden, and praised him as one of Orc Mountain’s most accomplished gardeners.
Raye’s heart skipped a beat, perhaps at seeing Kalfr’s name in print like that, but also because Svein had never mentioned this.
Svein had never once hinted that Kalfr himself was named in the book, let alone that he was apparently involved in gardening now.
And gods, had Raye been teaching her precious son to hide from her, too?
To mistrust her? To lie to her, just like Kalfr had?
But Svein’s glance up toward Raye was already apologetic, and Gaelfr’s hand slipped around her waist, guiding her down onto his other knee, opposite Svein.
And she might have argued, shoved away, but in this instant, Gaelfr didn’t look like he realized he was doing it.
No, because he too was staring at the book, and looking strangely pale, and confused, and… hurt.
“Will you — read this again, son?” he asked, hoarse. “This must be some mistake. Kalfr is not a gardener. He is a warrior.”
Svein complied, reading out the passage again, while something shifted across Gaelfr’s eyes.
Something that felt far too close to the mess still twisting in Raye’s thoughts, and she sank closer against his chest, her hand slipping around his solid back.
As if saying, I understand. I didn’t know, either. There’s so much I didn’t know.
The vision of that portrait Gaelfr had shown her rose again too, with that beautiful woman gripping at Kalfr’s arm with such possession, such pride.
And maybe Gaelfr was also thinking of it, his eyes now distant, far away, and Raye’s hand began stroking his back, sliding up and down over his smooth warm skin, over all the faint indents of scars within it.
“Perhaps that’s enough for tonight, then, love,” she said to Svein, as her other hand flipped the book closed. “We can read more tomorrow.”
Svein attempted to protest, but Raye shook her head, and shooed him off to his room to change for the night. Leaving her sitting there on Gaelfr’s lap, stroking his scarred back, feeling his heartbeat thudding into her shoulder.
“Are you all right?” she asked, softer than she meant. “Did you not know about the gardening, either?”
Gaelfr stirred and shifted beneath her, his eyes refocusing, finding her face.
“Ach, no,” he said, hoarse. “Kalfr never spoke of such a thing to me. We were always warriors, fighting side by side since we first learnt to hold our swords. And Kalfr was one of the quickest and cleverest warriors amongst all our kin. Just like his father.”
Raye’s thoughts flipped backwards, to a distant, deep-buried memory of lying in bed with Kalfr and speaking together of their parents.
Like Raye, Kalfr had been raised by only one parent — his father, who’d been killed in battle a few years before.
But unlike Raye, who’d freely spoken of her kind and hardworking mother, and the long illness that had led to her death when Raye had been only fifteen, Kalfr had been unusually hesitant speaking of his father, choosing his words with obvious care.
My father was a swift, fearsome warrior, at the front of every battle, he’d told her. But after, he would nurse his wounds and griefs until it was time to fight again. If he remembered to feed me, this was a good day.
“Well… maybe after the war ended, your clan didn’t have as much need for warriors?” Raye belatedly said, her voice uncertain. “Maybe Kalfr just wanted to try something else? Start over?”
Her careening thoughts reeled back to the beautiful woman in the portrait, but Gaelfr’s brow furrowed, his head shaking. “There is always need for strong warriors, even in peacetime. And even if Kalfr wished to seek beyond fighting after the war, I always thought he would —”
He broke off there, frowning down toward the Orc Mountain book again, and Raye nudged her hand against his back. “What?” she asked. “What did you think he would do?”
She kept searching Gaelfr’s face, waiting, until he took a deep breath.
“Kalfr ought to have become a leader amongst the Bautul,” he said flatly.
“Alongside his skill in battle, he was watchful, and quick, and clever, and wise. He was always seeking to learn, and to better our kin. He bore no bluster nor pride, but he yet easily drew our brothers to his side, and gained their trust and fealty. He was just the kind of orc our clan needed, once this war was done.”
Raye blinked at Gaelfr, frowning, shaking her head. “But… Kalfr never mentioned anything like that,” she countered. “And he never once talked about wanting to be in charge, or command anyone. He was always just… kind. Thoughtful. Generous. And fun.”
Gaelfr nodded, as unmistakable affection flickered through his eyes.
“But this is part of what gave my ástvinur so much power, you ken,” he replied.
“Even if he himself did not choose to see it, or wield it. Once you know Kalfr, you cannot help but wish to be near him. You wish to trust him, and uphold him. You know he bears the goddess’ blessing, and you trust he will do his best for you — and he will. ”
Raye stared at Gaelfr, at that unmistakable sincerity still glittering in his eyes.
He truly believed that. He truly believed Kalfr was supposed to be this wise, charismatic, trustworthy leader.
And yes, Raye supposed, she could see how people would like Kalfr.
How people would want to trust him. How you would welcome him into your life in the middle of a war, and willingly become pregnant with his son…
“And what about you?” Raye asked, still studying Gaelfr’s face. “Did you expect to become a leader, too? You seem like…”
She clamped her mouth shut, because what had she been about to say? You seem like the kind of person who people would want to follow, too? The kind of person who would be in charge?
Gaelfr shrugged, and glanced intently away.
“I ken I always thought… I would be by Kalfr’s side, in this,” he replied, slow.
“Training our warriors, mayhap, or leading our battles, whilst he sees and sets our goals, and draws all our kin around us. But since I left, and spent all these summers away in the south, I do not deserve —”
His voice hitched, and Raye kept watching him, waiting.
He didn’t deserve what? To lead those warriors?
Or… to even be by Kalfr’s side anymore? But why?
And he still hadn’t said what he’d done across the sea all that time, had he?
How had he supported himself? Had he been fighting battles there, too?
Gaelfr’s hand closed to a fist on the table, and he shook his head.
“Ach, it matters naught,” he said roughly.
“For it seems Kalfr has now abandoned all he once cared for, and for what? Making a mushroom garden? Bedding this vicious new harpy? Leaving his own mate and son to be starved and burnt alive by men?”
There was a surprising bitterness in his voice, twisting on his mouth, and Raye felt it too, tight and painful in her chest. “But… I didn’t give Kalfr a choice, with us,” she replied.
“I sent him away. I threatened him, and refused to hear him. He must have sent me a hundred letters, and I — I burned every one of them. I barred him from our lives, for all this time.”
Her voice had gone quiet, ashamed — gods, how she wished she’d read even one letter — but Gaelfr’s shoulder shrugged against her.
“Ach, then he ought to have found another way through to you, just as I did,” he said.
“The Kalfr I knew all my life, the strong clever warrior who was oft a demon in battle — he would have done this. Why did he not do this? For his mate, for his son?”
He sounded genuinely bewildered, and as Raye sagged against him, breathing in that richness of his scent, it occurred to her that maybe…
maybe she’d wanted Kalfr to do that too, especially these past few years.
She’d wanted him to barge in, and refuse to leave.
She’d wanted him to fight for her, for Svein.
She’d wanted to know, even despite his betrayal with Gaelfr, that they’d still… mattered.
Gods, it was such a mess, especially since now Gaelfr was here, and Raye was curled up on his lap, and… understanding him. Agreeing with him. Being almost glad he’d come back, and barged his way through her door.
That feeling only deepened as Gaelfr gave another long, lingering inhale to her hair, and patted her arse, guiding her up.
And then, without needing to speak of it, they went to Svein’s room together, and began what had already begun to feel like their new evening routine.
Gaelfr combing and braiding Svein’s hair, while Svein cuddled Mr. Snuggles, and Raye sang another one of his favourite songs.
Followed by one more trip to the outhouse, with Gaelfr on guard with his axe, and finally hugs and kisses goodnight.
Once they’d finished, Gaelfr’s hand found Raye’s back again, guiding her out of the room. And as he closed Svein’s door behind them, that hand nudged her forward. Toward… her bed.
Raye stilled and glanced up at Gaelfr’s face in the firelight, maybe seeking the mockery, or the command. Maybe he was just telling her to get some sleep, and that was all.
But his expression was… different. Searching. Intent. And when he nudged her forward again, Raye took a breath, and went. Trying desperately not to think, because she didn’t want to think, didn’t want to remember that she couldn’t trust him, she couldn’t.
Especially not like this. With his warm capable hands guiding her downwards, onto her back on the bed. His big solid body, sinking down to lie so close beside her. And his clever gentle fingers, settling on her knee, and drawing her skirts… up.
Raye gasped, glanced wide-eyed at Gaelfr’s too-close face on the bed. But there was still no mockery, only that strange glimmering intensity, as he kept pulling up her skirts. Undressing her, exposing her, as if he owned her, as if he could do whatever he wanted with her…
“Tonight, I will taste you, as I tend to you,” he breathed, husky, as his black tongue brushed against his lips, and he settled her skirts above her waist. “And you will welcome this from me. Ach?”
And in the quiet and the dark, the warmth of his body and his scent, the gentleness of his touch — there was only this. Only the loneliness and the longing, the heat and the promise. The big powerful orc in her bed, caring for her, wanting her.
“Yes,” Raye whispered, utterly lost. “I will.”