"Darling, what a nice dress. This color though, Lurielle, it's so harsh! Your palette is too delicate for something this heavy. And you know black is always so slimming . . ."
She'd given her a bright smile, because what could she say? Khash paused, his heavy brow furrowing. Lurielle had gripped his hand, knowing it was just the beginning.
"Well, you're just . . . so big! I can't even imagine how you would fit through the front door."
"Well, it's a good thing I have a big door, isn't it, mom?"
Ordering at a restaurant with her mother was always an ordeal. She would ask a million questions of the server, asking about substitutions to each and every menu item, questioning the caloric intake of everything from the butter sauce served on the side of the baked potato, to a decadent pasta dish, always ordering the same salad of leafy greens and very little taste, watching Lurielle’s own menu choice like a hawk, commenting on how she ought to take all the dressings and sauces on the side.
"You don’t need those hidden calories, dear."
“The hidden calories are where all the flavor is though,” Khash had chimed in genially, but she’d recognized the smile he reserved for Tate. She’d instructed him to eat before they left, in an attempt to stave off his normal two entrées, and to her enormous relief, he’d complied. That didn’t stop her from reaching over to his plate with her fork, dragging her beet through the caramelization on his plate, popping it into her mouth cheerfully, as her mother looked on in horror.
Her mother had spent most of the appetizer course grilling Lurielle on her life and her job and her house, trying her best to poke holes in all of the above, questioning how they had met over the entrées, asking Lurielle questions about Khash's job, where he lived, where he was from . . . but never quite addressing him herself, a fact she denied when Lurielle pointed out. She had vacillated wildly between her high, slightly manic party voice, as Khash forced his way into the conversation, attempting to sing Lurielle's praises, and a breathy, accusatory tone, when he announced he was quite serious about their daughter and saw their relationship continuing to move forward, dashing her mother’s hopes that it was all a practical joke, acting as if Lurielle had climbed up on the table in the middle of the dining room, lifted her dress, and shat in the soup.
"You don’t get it," she’d insisted, pushing and pulling pillows into place in his oversized bed before settling against him, rubbing her hand against his broad chest placatingly. "She was on her best behavior, she’s usuallymuchworse than that."
His lower lip had been pushed out in a pout, but he’d scowled at her words. Lurielle knew Khash was unused to not being liked, and even though she’d warned him repeatedly over the last several months that her mother would relegate him into the column of daughter’s terrible life choices, he’d been confident in his ability to charm. She didn’t consider herself a petty person, and it had brought her no joy to be proven right that evening.
"She has no right talking to you that way," he’d seethed, raising a giant hand to enumerate all of her positive attributes again, the third time he’d done so since leaving the restaurant, as though her mother might hear them. "You’re smart — no,brilliant.You work in a male-dominated field and you ran lead on your department’s last big project. That’s nothin’ to sniff at, Bluebell."
"I improved a jerk-off machine for minotaurs. That’s on my resume now."
"For a billion-dollar multinational pharmaceutical company!" he thundered, swatting at her hair. "You are braver than most of the grown orcs I know. You came all the way out here by yourself, no support system, no money, no nothin'."
"Gee, thanks, babe."
"You built a life for yourself, on your own terms, and I don't care what you want to pretend, darlin', that's impressive. You'rebeautiful, the prettiest elf I've ever seen."
"I'm also the fattest elf you've ever seen, which is probably her sticking point."
The noise of disgust he made his throat made her smile. "Pffttgggghhttt, fat. Fat compared to what, my big toe? Compared to one of them little pixies that fly around the gardens? Who are you supposed to look like, one of your little stick figure friends? If I were to try to put this big old dragon in your skinny little friend Silvia, it would come outta her mouth. You think I'd be able to pump you full of strong orc sons if you didn't have them sexy hips?"
"You'd better keep that big ole' dragon away fromanyof my friends, unless you want to be castrated with a toothbrush. AndSilvahas an orc boyfriend, for the record. Despite what both you and he would like to pretend. And you've been doing a lot of talking about pumping sons into me lately. What happens if you pump out a girl?"
He rolled her, pinning her to the mattress as she laughed, nudging her thighs open. Lurielle was forced to admit, no matter how much she teased him, she was certain he had the biggest, fattest cock in the world. He slapped it down on her belly, ridiculously large, even flaccid. "We'll have the prettiest little girl in existence. A dainty lil' cupcake, just like her mama, and her daddy's gonna make sure she can kick someone's ass if they need it kicked. Best of both worlds."
His words sparked a memory, a conversation that had taken place with his brother Kesst and a handful of others, the night of his clan party.
"We're all so excited to have him back once y'all decide to start having little ones." The statement had come from the elder sister of one of his childhood friends, cheerful nods and sentiments of agreement coming from the rest of the circle.
"You won't even have to worry about looking for property down here," Kesst piped up. "You'll probably just want to build something. However big you want it, however many bedrooms you think you'll need for the kids. You can make it like one of those special species houses," he'd beamed at her. He was sweet and friendly, and he and Khash were closer than Khash seemed to be with the rest of his siblings, a fact she understood was important. She'd not brought it up that night, distracted as they’d been with the cabin in the woods, and then breakfast the following morning with his family one last time before heading home, and the conversation had slipped her mind. Now though, it came rushing back.
"Orcs are okay with having kids outside of marriage, right? Or is that frowned on?"
Such a question would have been preposterous to ask, if their positions were reversed. Elves had a hard enough time conceiving as it was, and married couples sometimes tried for years before they managed to have a child. Little girls were indoctrinated young, and Lurielle vividly remembered those mortifying grade school discussions. Tev’s mother had been supercilious and cold even during the rosiest part of their relationship, and she had spent more than one sleepless night imagining the guilt and barely disguised insults that would have been heaped on her by both her mother and Tev’s alike if she did not produce a baby immediately. Insinuations that she wasn’t trying hard enough, hints that her weight was the reason she was unable to conceive — Lurielle had thought through a hundred different scenarios, each more unpleasant than the next. It had been a relief to put that particular anxiety away for good once she’d escaped, and she hadn’t given children much thought since then. Now though . . .
She knew Khash wanted children, he’d been clear about that from the start, so she’d diligently made an appointment to discuss the future possibility with the doctor she’d been seeing since her move to Cambric Creek, an eagle-faced woman with a wry sense of humor and a straightforward manner.
"An orc? Interesting! I imagine you’ll have considerably less issues with conception . . . carrying might be a challenge with your height, but you have good birthing hips. We’ll need to watch the blood pressure, of course, and there’s a chance you might need to be on bed rest for the tenth month, but I don’t see there to be any underlying health issues that would prevent you from carrying a healthy baby."
She’d left the appointment chewing over the doctor’s words, wondering if she’d conceive as easily as the lagomorph girl at the office who worked in reception and seemed to be perpetually swollen with new life. After all, as she liked to say, for all her mother’s put-on airs, one needn’t scratch the surface of their family tree too deeply to find non-Elvish blood, as evidenced by the fact that her parents had not one, but two children. Her favorite grandfather had been the product of a half-human mother, helping his own progeny pass on their Elvish genes.You’re just following tradition, she’d told herself leaving the doctor’s office with a bounce in her step that day.
"It happens all the time," Khash answered. "Children are raised by the whole community, by the clan. It gives couples a chance to settle into being parents and play at being married for a bit first."
Lurielle frowned, not expecting his answer and not at all sure if she liked it. "What–what does that even mean? So if they decide they don’t want to be married, they can just walk away? And then the woman gets stuck with raising a kid on her own?"
"That’s exactly what it means, but that’s the opposite of what I said. Yes, they can go their separate ways. Things happen, relationships don’t work. But the whole clan raises children. Your granny is everyone’s granny. Doors are open to all the kids in the neighborhood, there’s always room at the table for another mouth. Children are never left behind. That would be a black eye on the whole clan."
