My eavesdropping didn’t go unnoticed. One of the males—nearly as tall as Malek but leaner, with a predatory grace—narrowed his eyes and let out a low warning snarl, baring his fangs at me. He spat a foul-sounding word in my direction, drawing the judging gaze of every orc in his circle.
In an instant, I found myself the target of a barrage of insults and guttural snarls, a sea of bared fangs glinting in my direction. Every instinct screamed for me to cower, to bolt back to the safety of Malek’s hut. But Kalisha’s warning held me strong. If showed even the slightest flicker of fear, I would be nothing more than easy prey.
I trusted my gut instead and bared my own teeth in a defiant growl. The reaction was immediate. The jeers died in their throats, replaced by a heavy, stunned silence as they stared me down.
“Kur ’n ekrer,” I cursed, glaring at them.
I braced myself for their reaction, expecting them to lunge and start a fight I had no hope of winning. To my shock, the male who had cursed me threw his head back and roared with laughter. The others joined him, their deep, booming guffaws laughing at a joke I didn't understand.
Not wanting to look like an easy mark, or a rude one, I forced a laugh of my own, a pathetic attempt to blend into their camaraderie. Fumbling for a way out, I nodded sharply and turned to flee, only to slam into something far too solid to be ignored.
Or rather, someone. The Goddess damned Ruk’hai.
Brown eyes swept over me, unreadable and cold. My sudden halt had sent a slosh of water over the rim of the bucket, drenching his bare feet. I offered him a clipped bow, mimickingthe gesture I’d seen the others make, pressing two fingers to my forehead.
"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.
"Fetching water to clean your cabin... Ruk’hai," I added, trying to sound respectful.
One dark brow arched at the title, a flicker of emotion crossing his face before he nodded curtly. He looked past me then, grunting a greeting to the orcs gathered behind us. Taking that as a dismissal, I turned and went back to the hut.
Glancing over my shoulder to see if he had stayed behind, I nearly tripped when I found him there, looming as close as my own shadow.
"Do you need something, Ruk’hai?" I asked, a spark of anxiety twisting in my gut.
I feared he would glimpse my other side beneath my skin if he spent too much time near me. But his face was an impenetrable fortress, a landscape of hard angles and cold stone. Not a single twitch or a hairline fracture in his composure gave away the thoughts churning behind those eyes.
It was infuriating.
I had always prided myself on being observant, a keen judge of the intentions hiding behind a smile or a scowl. Even my father, a High Fae lord with a millennium of deceit under his belt, couldn't lie to me. So how was it that a simple orc could keep such an impenetrable mask?
"No," he answered simply.
I held his gaze for a heartbeat longer before forcing a thin smile and turning back to the path. I prayed to Danu that he would turn away, choose another path, do anything other than continue dissecting me like an insect.
It seemed Danu had forsaken me.
I could feel his presence at my back, the heat radiating from him in stifling waves. His scent flooded the small cabin, making my stomach twist with a mix of terror and uncertainty.
Don’t let him see it.
I drew a long, steadying breath, summoning every scrap of poise I’d spent a lifetime perfecting. I feigned cold indifference, acting as if he weren’t even there as I began my work. From the corner of my eye, I saw the Ruk’hai make his way to the massive armchair by the hearth. The leather groaned under his weight as he sank into it. He propped a thick, tattooed leg onto the coffee table, unsheathed a wicked-looking blade from his belt, and began to clean beneath his long claws nonchalantly. I wrinkled my nose at the sight of his feet, caked in mud, and bit back the urge to snap at him to get his feet off the furniture, focusing instead on scrubbing the hovel he called home.
With every foul, unidentifiable stain I encountered, I hissed a curse at Merith, swearing I’d make her swallow every last one of her teeth the moment I got the chance. By the time I reached his spot, my temper had unraveled into anger. I couldn't hold it in any longer.
"Get up so I can clean," I snapped, my patience nowhere to be found.
He didn't obey me, of course. Instead, he stretched, arching his back and lifting those massive, ink-stained arms over his head like a lazy cat.
"I don't want to."
My entire body coiled, tension thrumming through my limbs like a bowstring pulled taut. "Excuse me?"
"You understand my language even less than I thought."
I wasn’t even worthy of a glance as he dismissed my request. He simply returned to his task, the tip of his blade scraping under his dirt-stained claws with infuriating calm. My dwindling patience finally snapped. Fury bubbled in my gut, fueled by his annoying presence. I wanted to heave the dirty water from the bucket right into his face, to seize the ash shovel and crack it against that thick skull of his, and kick him so hard between his legs that he’d forget his own name. Male orcs and High Fae weren't so different in that regard; both bled, and both crumbled when struck in their precious little balls.
I began to lift the bucket, my muscles coiling to strike, when a voice in the back of my mind, one that sounded hauntingly like Kristan’s, hissed a warning:If you do this, he’ll snap you like a twig.My fingers trembled against the iron handle, the metal biting into my palm, but I took a deep breath.
