12. Truths
TRUTHS
Ididn’t realize I’d been waiting for his voice, that drifting in and out of consciousness some part of me still combed the sounds of this foreign place for him. But then I was awake like I’d been doused with ice, sitting up in this backroom, and from beyond the curtain I heard
“Oh, you were worried? It would take more than this to kill the idiot of Belnor Ridge.” He was laughing with someone, even though his breaths were still shallow and tight, like he was masking pain.
I sat poised on the edge of that bed, wanting to rush back, stilling myself.
I couldn't be sure that he wanted to see me.
These were his friends; he knew them; he was comfortable with them.
I was a burden he'd picked up mere days ago.
“You’re beat to hell.” Tyralk’s voice again.
“Thank you for noticing. Am I still pretty?”
“Ask your wife, you dumbass.”
The mirth left his voice. “Annora.”
“Yeah. That wife.”
“She’s safe?”
Rowena, the woman, was icy. “She’s safe.” She almost spat the words. “How could you?”
“That’s…an intense response to my nuptials, sister-in-law. I thought I’d get at least a congratulations from you. I brought you a friend. I did get her all the way in from Droth territory alive. Give me credit.”
“You absolute asshole—"
“Rowena,” the quiet one, Khal, murmured. “Give me a moment, yes? You can ask your questions, just…this isn’t the way we need.”
It was quiet.
Khal’s voice rejoined. “It’s been less than six weeks, and you show up beat to hell with a very frightened, injured woman who claims to be your wife. Can you tell us how this happened?”
There was a sound, a long gulp, like drinking, the clink of a lowered cup. “It was a scenario of Tar Ivan.”
The sorceress burst. “You absolute pig, even with the Droth, how could you—"
“They kidnapped me. Have a little faith, Rowena.”
“They what?”
He drank again, a clink. “One of those idiot villages on the fringe. They kidnapped me. They had superstitions that the attacks could be stopped by orc marriages. I tried to get around killing any of them, and ended up behind bars, between a pretty face and a disemboweling hook. Forgive me,” his sarcasm twanged, “for not choosing the hook.”
There was a little gasping sound, and I realized the sorceress was sobbing. “I’m sorry.”
“Good. You know me better than that, Fire-starter.” He didn’t sound mad. It was so strange, how he never seemed to sound mad.
“She’s so afraid and she’s covered in bruises—"
“She fell down a ravine.”
“She said you hurt her.”
“What?”
My stomach turned to ice. I wracked my mind for what I could have said, how they’d mean—
“I asked if she’d been hurt, and she…I think she thought I was trying to invalidate your bond. She was like a cornered shthrak, insisting that you’d taken her to bed and you were hers.”
He sighed. “Well. Loyalty is good, right? Some kind of loyalty.”
“Did they force her to you?” The question hung there.
I wanted to say no. No, I chose this. I chose him. But that wasn’t what he answered.
“It was me or a different piece of shit. I…didn’t understand that dynamic, at the time.
She’d met me. We fought a bit, tangled, you know?
In the cell. And then she chose me. I thought she just liked my face, hmm?
” He let out a sarcastic laugh. “It wouldn’t have changed my choice to live.
I just…might have gone about things differently. ”
Someone tsked under their breath. “No wonder she seems like a frightened squirrel.” Tyralk. “But she seems to like you, right?”
“Well, she killed for me, but again, it was me or the bigger asshole, so.” The false jollity in his voice stung. “She thinks I’m a monster, but the good news is, she grew up with humans, so that puts me on equal footing with…every man and orc she’ll meet.”
The woman spoke again, softly, “I’m sorry.”
A stream of Orcish came from him, and I wished not for the first time that I could understand it as something other than just noise.
The room was quiet, and I weighed whether to go to that curtain, pretend I’d only just awoken and hadn’t heard or…I wanted to see him, whatever that made me. I needed to see him okay. But the young one’s voice broke the quiet.
“So the elders will be mad, but you can just explain and then…it’s not like you have to stay married, right?”
“Tyralk,” the woman muttered.
“No, you know I’m right! If neither of them even wanted to—"
Vrathgar cut him off. “No. If she wants to abjure me, I’ll accept, but I’m not taking her to my bed, dragging her halfway across the continent and dumping her outside an orc enclave.”
“There's something else.” The sorceress’s chosen one, Khal, spoke again.
“It would be better for Vrathgar, with the council, with the people, with everything, if they stayed married long enough to look like it wasn’t Tar Ivan.
” His voice was gruff. “She’s already in the stronghold, and the last time they tried…
” he trailed off. The fire crackled, and I sat, frozen.
I had considered leaving him, right? That was my entire plan.
Getting away. Why was my stomach in knots?
The young one tsked. “Well, at least she's pretty.”
“Tyralk!”
“What? It matters, doesn’t it? You can’t pretend it doesn’t matter—"
“You snarflakh—"
“Khal.” Vrathgar's voice commanded attention. Everyone else stilled. I slipped down from the bed and padded, silent, to that curtain, to the thin band of light, Vrathgar still lying in the pit by the fire, his friends near. “They’re going to use this to hurt you.” He said it flat, like there was no question.
The quiet one responded, just, “Yeah.”
“One unwilling bride, that could be a mistake. Two…”
Rowena, their sorceress, her face was so pale.
Vrathgar’s eyes were distant, set. “This isn’t like when we were kids and you could take a licking for me. If Sephar takes your place—"
“Sephar has nothing to do with this. We’ll get you whole, and we’ll go from there.”
He shook his head. “I have to do right within the reach of my arm. I can’t untangle this for you. But if they come for me, this is about your position. This is about our people, not your sorriest hanger-on.”
“Stop.” There was no venom in his voice. “Don’t insult my brother while I can’t kick your ass.”
Vrathgar didn’t rise to the bait. “...you could renounce me.”
Rowena squeaked. The quiet orc’s shoulders hunched. “Never.”
“You can say I went mad with power and tried to copy you, that I’m not the man you called brother. Lay it on thick, let them say what they’ll say—"
“I will not perjure myself to look like a worthy leader.”
“Then find something to say that's true. We’ve fought enough, you probably have real reasons to hate me—"
“If they cut you from this people, they cut me with you. If they malign your name, the mud hits me.”
“You have too much to lose. You and Rowena, you are too much to lose. The Drashik need you—"
“Then they’ll have to keep my brother.”
Vrathgar shook his head. “You cannot always fight without your blade, Khal.”
“And you cannot always treat yourself like…” He looked away.
“Like what?” That humorless scoff. “Like a bastard?”
The quiet one glared. “Like someone we can afford to lose.”
Silence hung.
“Enough of that,” Vrathgar rasped. “I’m not gone yet. I’m like a pox, hasn’t your mother said it? You can’t get rid of me easily.” He smiled, and it didn’t reach his eyes. “Your wife looks dead on her feet. Didn’t Zhana make a place for you? Rest. I’ll keep till morning.”
As they left, the quiet one clasped his shoulder, touched his forehead to his, and Rowena…she hugged him, briefly.
And now I was even more ridiculous, watching from behind a curtain, because who even was I, to any of them? I was a problem they wanted to get rid of but needed to keep. I was a bringer of danger, and some kind of future was hanging in the balance.
And now I’d have to pretend I’d heard none of this.
The tall one stayed seated.
Vrathgar was still lying back. “Aren’t you going to bed?” He addressed his friend. “Miss sleep and it’ll stunt your growth.”
“Ha.” His friend folded himself down onto the bench. “You know she's a wielder?”
Vrathgar hesitated. “Who knows?”
“Just Rowena, and Gnarlak, and Khal’s da. And us.”
“That’s good.”
The boy frowned. “So you knew? Did you find out what kind? That’s a dangerous choice—"
“Should I remind you that I was kidnapped, little brother?”
“But if she has powers, do you know whether she’s like…”
“It was a sword at my neck or a woman willing to marry me, please tell me how much I should have rethought the danger in this.”
“I know, I know, it’s just…” He chewed on his lip. “Do you think she’s a spy?”
“No.” His answer was instant. Maybe that was good. “If that was the case, she’d have broken off when I went South, yeah? No.” His gaze was lost in the distance. “If she was, they’d be more monstrous than I thought they were, sending her in to the likes of me.”
“How’d she get you?” It sounded like half weak joke, half genuine worry. “She lose a raffle?”
“Piss off.” He flicked something at the taller one, who dodged, an exaggerated indignance that died down fast. The quiet took the house again, my eyes heavy and legs aching, the fire lapping at the coals.
“She volunteered.” Vrathgar had spoken, staring into the flames. “The day after I’d threatened her.”
“You threatened her?”
“She’s a wielder, Tyralk. They’re strong.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s not like I’m picking on their ewe lambs.”
“But she volunteered? You didn’t worry that meant she was a spy?”
“No. That’s the part where I’m a fool, nayah?” He rested his head back, that bitter, jaded look again. “Because I did want to live, yes, but also…who else would volunteer to marry me? Hmm? To be wanted, even for bad reasons…” he shrugged. “I was a fool.”
The tall one looked away, awkward. “You don’t have to worry, about Khal and me. We’ll figure it out. We always figure it out. Just…let someone else take care of you for once, alright?” He fidgeted. “You act like you’re this lone hunter, but you have us. And you shouldn’t be alone.”
Vrathgar shook his head. “God, you’re just a kid. Shut up. It’s our job to take care of you.”
“I’m twenty years old.”
“An infant, a rutting infant. You were biting my ankles last autumn—"
“Don’t say fighting words while I can’t kick your ass, old man.”
“Old man? If I’m an old man, stop trying to lecture your elders, I’ll take a cane to your—"
They were laughing, hushed voices, and I watched him as he laughed, the way the pain still tightened his eyes.
I didn’t want to infringe on this moment, to take anything away.
I crept back to the bed in the darkness, and I lay with my eyes clenched shut, not letting myself think about unshed tears or roads north from the Vradi or the empty pouch around my neck.
He had people who cared about him. That was good.
I could worry less. But I was the only one looking out for me.
I needed to look out, to take any aid they would give me to get away.
“What’s the pain like?” Tyralk asked, a voice low enough I knew someone normal wouldn’t be able to hear.
There was a moment before he answered. “Bad.”
Liquid poured. “Grezha said to give you this, if you couldn’t sleep. It won’t mask it completely, but…”
A gulp sounded. “Get to bed. You knocked me out. Stop hovering like a mother hen.”
A quiet voice: “Call for us if you need something.”
“I won’t. Go sleep.”
“We care about you.”
“Gods, go to bed.”
The footsteps receded. His breathing evened, only the occasional hitch. And for a long while, sleep claimed me as well.