Chapter 53
The last few days before the attack were a bustle of plans and activity. Harvesting and preserving the last of the garden, running tests and drills with the band, determining what conditions would warrant escape or retreat.
Amidst it all, the reports kept arriving from Orc Mountain, confirming the worst. Sybil and her army were still marching closer, following a route straight toward the byrgi, while dogs and riders fanned out ahead of them.
And though Orc Mountain had kept sending offers of parley and peace, Sybil had refused them all, while still demanding to meet with Kalfr, too.
But despite that constant threat hanging over them, Raye still found herself embracing those last precious days together.
Weaving her new tapestry, throwing herself into her daily training sessions with Gaelfr, and revelling in cozy evenings with the band, full of so much entertainment and pleasure that she could almost — almost — forget the threat looming over them.
“Don’t you think we should still be working on preparations tonight?” she asked Gaelfr one evening, as they swayed together to Othan’s drumbeat before the fire. “Since we only have four days left?”
She felt a stab of alarm at the thought, as Svein’s face materialized behind her eyes — he and his friends had happily participated in their preparations these past days, and seemed to view the drills as an exciting group game.
But he’d also begun asking more questions about the attack, and just the day before, Raye had caught him trying to listen to one of their meetings, too.
But Gaelfr shrugged, and twirled Raye around before drawing her back into his arms again.
“If we do not enjoy our peace whilst we can, when will we do this?” he asked, as his hand curved suggestively over her arse.
“Most of all when we have done so much good work together, and yet have good cause to hope.”
He angled a meaningful glance toward the kitchen, where Kalfr was currently chatting with Grum, fetching drinks and treats.
And as Raye followed Gaelfr’s gaze, she knew he wasn’t only thinking of the attack, and their plans against Sybil — but also of that promise Kalfr had made the other day, and all the truths he’d told them. I will stay. I will stay.
And yes, Raye could admit, that promise was more good cause to hope.
She hadn’t fully realized how heavily that fear of losing Kalfr had been weighing on her, or how often that image of Sybil’s beautiful naked body had snaked into her thoughts, too.
And as much as she trusted — she knew — Kalfr didn’t still want Sybil, and Sybil had used and hurt him, it was still a relief to know that no matter what happened next, Kalfr would be here beside them. They would face this together.
So Raye smiled gratefully at Gaelfr, and allowed him to draw her closer, into the growing bulge in his trousers.
And when he guided her down toward the sofa, she easily slipped down onto him, straddling his bulky thighs.
Feeling that thrilling ridge shudder and grind up between them, and she gasped as she settled closer, watched the hunger flare across his eyes. As if he might…
“Come, ástin mín,” Gaelfr cut in, with a relieved glance toward Kalfr, who was now sinking down beside them with multiple plates and mugs in hand. “Our hungry mate needs all the treats you can grant her, I ken.”
Raye couldn’t deny a twinge of disappointment, because since that memorable night on the sofa, Gaelfr hadn’t once again taken her like that — but Kalfr’s grin was warm and wicked, and once he passed off all the treats to Gaelfr, he stood Raye up and bent her forward over Gaelfr on the sofa.
So he could take her from behind, squeezing and slapping gently at her arse, while Gaelfr fed her bites of Grum’s tasty dumplings, and then poured himself out into her mouth, too.
And afterwards, Kalfr ordered her to sit on Gaelfr’s face on the sofa, and feed him some sweet dessert of her own.
It didn’t feel at all like a test or a punishment, but more like a game, another treat for them all to share.
And once they’d finished and piled into bed together, Raye curled up contentedly between her mates, drawing in deep breaths of their familiar scents.
They still had hope, and peace, in this moment. They were doing this, together.
Perhaps Kalfr felt it too, and that next morning, he easily laughed and chatted with Raye as they completed their morning survey.
Their surveys together had continued to be one of Raye’s favourite parts of every day, and they had now finished almost all the projects they’d set out to do — with the glaring exception of the muster-room storage.
And as they strode down the tunnel together, they heard a loud, affronted shout from within its open door.
“You struck me, you useless witch!” hollered a familiar voice — Skirvir’s voice. “With my own axe!”
Raye and Kalfr exchanged an alarmed look, and sprinted toward the muster-room.
Where they found Skirvir staggering about the room, spewing fresh blood from a vicious wound in his calf, while Fengr stood by with a look of unconvincing innocence on his face.
And upon seeing Kalfr and Raye at the door, Skirvir reeled toward them, his face mottled with red, his arm flailing furiously toward Fengr.
“He wounded me!” Skirvir shouted, and Kalfr lurched forward to catch him, bracing his arm around his back. “I told you, voreur, there is aught uncanny about your dancer, and he ought to kneel and —”
He broke into a pained grunt as Kalfr guided him toward the door, meeting Raye’s eyes with mingled concern and exasperation. “To the healer first, Skirvir,” Kalfr said firmly. “And then we will speak of this.”
Thankfully, Skirvir seemed too overcome to keep arguing, and Raye jogged ahead to the sickroom, and alerted Rurik of what was coming for him.
And by the time Kalfr dragged Skirvir into the sickroom, Rurik was ready and waiting, and quickly helped Kalfr deposit a still-raving Skirvir onto the nearest bed.
“Peace, you great lout,” Rurik snapped, as he knelt beside Skirvir, and dropped his hand to the still-spurting wound.
“I am sure you have borne far worse than — fokk. Is this infected?”
Skirvir replied with a howl, surely due to how Rurik was now squeezing the wound, and bubbling out a hideous greenish pus alongside the blood.
“How long have you been allowing this old wound to stew and fester thus?” Rurik demanded.
“Whoever cut you open thus, you ought to be thanking them, for you could have lost your whole leg over this. Mayhap next time you are told to consult with a healer for a check-up, you shall heed this.”
Skirvir finally shut his mouth, casting a baleful frown toward Rurik, while Raye and Kalfr exchanged an amused look, and backed toward the door.
But before they could make their escape, Rurik waved them back inside, and guided Skirvir down to lie on the bed, where he was soon loudly snoring, apparently fast asleep.
“I have been meaning to ask you to come by again,” Rurik told Raye, as he turned toward his washbasin, and began scrubbing his hands. “I have been intrigued by your progress, and wished to reassess this.”
Raye blinked, but accordingly waited with Kalfr until Rurik came back and rested his hands to her shoulders, her collarbones, her belly.
“I must say, this is a stunning improvement,” he said.
“I have never before witnessed a human gain such strength and weight, in such a short span of time. I wonder if your shared Bautul bonds have helped with this? There are tales of the bonds’ sway over such things, and even over… ”
His voice faded, his mouth thoughtfully pursing, and his hands hesitated over Raye’s lower belly. “Well, whatever you have done, keep doing this,” he said. “And soon, you will spark that son, should you yet wish for this.”
Raye nodded, clasping Kalfr’s hand as she smiled shyly up toward him, and Kalfr smiled back, curving his fingers close around hers. And for an instant, it felt surreal, to be here planning this together, trusting each other, building a new life together. A family. A home.
That warmth kept shimmering around Raye as she threw herself into the rest of the day’s joys — more weaving, more training, more preparations, more easy laughter and chatter with the band.
She talked to Julian about starting up lessons in the orcs’ language of Aelakesh, she got a chance to pet a fluffy Mr. Stinkles in the garden with Svein, and Othan even gave her a drumming lesson, and told her a bittersweet tale of the handsome human man he’d used to play for at nights, and the peace he’d found in his arms.
“I have been playing for him ever since,” he told her, with a sad smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Both seeking him, and seeking to escape him, I ken. Your goddess has greatly blessed you, in bringing your mates back to you.”
He nodded toward the byrgi’s door, toward where Gaelfr had just stalked in, covered in mud and sweat, and waved a wooden sword imperiously toward Raye before striding out again.
Bringing a reluctant laugh to Raye’s mouth, and once she’d thanked Othan and jogged out for the day’s training, she sent a silent, fervent prayer to the goddess. They could do this. Three days.
That night, they shared another delicious meal together, and this time, apparently at little Ophelia’s request, Grum had cooked a variety of decidedly human dishes.
Including leek and onion soup, watercress salad, and tubers sliced thin and fried in oil, cooked to such crispy perfection that they melted in Raye’s mouth.
“That was unbelievable, Grum,” Aulis said once they’d finished, patting his distinctly rounded belly. “How the hell did you learn to cook human food like that? Do you have a secret human mate we don’t know about?”