“What are you doing?” I whispered, my eyes locked on his. Up close, I noticed his pupils widen, bleeding into the darkness of his irises.
“Ork ‘o Oguk krun Gnar’kem mashker[3],” he said. The language barrier was beginning to wear on my nerves. I really should have learned more than just bad words from Leone. Then again, at the time, I had no way of knowing I’d be cursed and end up in Oksha of all places.
I blinked slowly and, summoning every ounce of my acting talent, forced tears to well in my eyes.
“Please,” I begged, my voice as pathetic as I could conjure. “I-I… my clan was attacked. That’s why I came here.” My tearful tone seemed to startle the orc. He pulled back abruptly and muttered something too low for me to catch. As tears spilled down my cheeks, I sniffed to sell the act. “I-I’m alone. Please.”
He studied me with those shark-like eyes. For a terrifying moment, I feared my performance hadn’t convinced him. To my relief, he huffed and grabbed a knife that looked far too small for his massive hands, slicing cleanly through the restraints on my arms.
My limbs throbbed from being held in place so long, but I didn’t complain. I pushed myself upright on the table, never taking my eyes off the orc before me as he watched me with the wary focus one reserves for a wild animal that might lunge for his throat at any moment. The irony wasn’t lost on me—back in Ceilte, they were the ones branded as wild.
I cleared my throat and glanced down—only to let out a shriek. My breasts were completely exposed. The fabric of my dress had been torn away so the healer could tend to my wounds, and I hadn’t even noticed.
I crossed my arms over my chest on instinct. “Pervert!” I snarled, my face burning with a heat that had nothing to do with the hearth.
The orc tilted his head, a look of bewilderment crossing his features. “Pervert?” he repeated. “What’s the meaning of this?”
I nearly choked on my indignation as I scrambled off the table, backing away until I hit the opposite wall. My wounds pressed against the cool wood, yet I refused to take my eyes off him. “Don’t play the fool!” I snapped, tightening my arms over my chest as heat rushed to my face. “You saw me naked and said nothing!”
He furrowed his brow, not with guilt or embarrassment at being caught, but genuine confusion. “You were wounded,” he replied, his tone calm, like it was something as simple and unquestionable as the sun rising in the east.
“I know!” I snapped, my voice teetering between hysteria and outrage. “But you could have warned me that my breasts were out!”
He stared at me as if I’d just claimed the moon was made of cheese, like I was the strange one in this situation, not him, and his lack of shame.
“They’re just arkem,” he replied with a shrug.
“Just what?!” I screeched.
To my absolute mortification, he raised his hands—those enormous, wide, calloused hands—and positioned them in front of his own chest, cupping them the way one might hold two round objects.
“Arkem,” he repeated slowly.
I wanted to die right then and there. Bury me face down, because I no longer possessed the dignity required to look anyone in the eye.
“They’re just breasts?” I couldn’t believe this. “Is that what you mean?!”
He blinked slowly. “Yes. Just breasts. Everyone has them.”
Never in my nearly one hundred and fifty years of life had someone dismissed my body with such cold indifference. Fine, I wasn't the most well-endowed female in the world, but I had round and perfectly sized breasts. I had received many compliments before, and not just from High Fae.
This orc clearly wouldn't know a good pair if they hit him in the face. I imagined, with a certain amount of disdain, that orc females must not have much variety to show if this was how he reacted. At least, if he felt no attraction to me, he wouldn't try anything. That, I had to admit, was a relief.
I drew a deep breath to steady my nerves and, lifting my chin, said, “I need clothes. Something to cover my… arkem.”
He remained still for a moment, considering. Then he turned and walked to a low cupboard made of dark wood. Inside, stacked neatly, lay roll upon roll of beige fabric. He took one, folded it, and handed it to me.
“Here. Wear this.”
I sighed but took the bandage. I would have preferred a gown or even a tunic, but I couldn't afford to be picky. “Could you give me a moment of privacy?” I asked, noticing he had no intention of leaving. Once again, he looked at me like I had sprouted a second head. “To dress.”
“Why?”
Was this orc simple-minded or just thick? I huffed, fury bubbling up again. “Because I don't know you and I’m not changing in front of you!”
“Changing… clothes,” he repeated slowly, confirming the meaning of the words. “And you don’t want me to see.”
“Yes!” I barked, tossing my hands in the air. “Finally!”
