The porridge was delicious,but the company was even better.
I couldn’t believe I was seated at Issa’s table as her Mate fussed over both of us, as if I were a…aguest, rather than a prisoner.
A captive.
A spoil of war.
“So.”
Issa’s elbows were on the table, her expression rapt.
“I’m dying to ken—how did ye wound my brother? Dinnae expect me to believe ye were defending yer honor or some nonsense.”
I bristled.
“You doubt I could?—”
“I doubt Vrogul would try to force himself on a female, nae matter how pretty.” Issa saluted me with her spoon.
“Or how human?”
Matthias plunked his own bowl down at a third seat. “Surely ye’ve noticed humans and orcs have nae trouble mixing?”
He raised a brow in challenge and jerked his chin toward his Mate’s stomach.
“Issa’s carrying my daughter.”
I’d opened my mouth to defend myself but was stopped at the claim ofdaughter.
“You know you are carrying a girl?”
Issa grinned at him. “Nay, but Matthias believes in manifesting good fortune.”
Daughter. Good fortune.
Slowly, I took a bite of the honeyed porridge and the healer grinned at me.
“Orcs are no’ matrilineal, but since daughters are rarer, they’re honored.”
With a smirk, he cut his eyes toward his Mate.
“Issa is younger than her brothers, but they put up with her nagging, nonetheless.”
With a snort, Issa kicked him and they both snickered.
“My brothers listen to my wisdom,” she correctly regally. “They value my input.”
“They’re wrapped around her wee finger,” Matthias whispered to me, then yelped as his Mate pretended to kick him again.
I found myself smiling at their antics and obvious affection for one another. I wanted to know how—why—they’d found each other, but there were more pressing questions.
I toyed with my porridge.
“The humans here in the village…they are not prisoners?”
Matthias snorted, but Issa leaned forward.
“Hardly. Orcs and humans have traded and Mated for untold generations. My great-grandmother was a human—the auld stories tell us that only by weaving our present together can we have a future.”
