CHAPTER FIVE
Rowena
I didn’t sleep.Not until Vrogul returned. The moon had been up for hours, and I’d been tossing and turning in that large bed, when the door finally opened and he slipped in. I heard him remove his boots, heard him wrap himself in a plaid, heard him settle in front of the cold hearth.
I didn’t like the thought of taking his bed from him, but now I fell asleep quickly.
Mayhap ‘twas exhaustion. Mayhap ‘twas knowing he was there.
The following day was much the same, and the one after. I spent the days with Issa and her friends learning about the village, and the nights alone in Vrogul’s big bed, straining for the sound of his return.
On the third day in Battleborn Village, I borrowed a set of cleaning rags and wiped down Vrogul’s mantel and table.The place had been clean when I arrived, but he was now clearly avoiding his own home.
On the fourth day, I took it a step further and aired out all the linens and rugs and swept the flagstone floor.
And on the fifth day, I decided to start cooking as well.
Mayhap if his home was inviting and smelled of porridge in the morning and roasted vegetables in the evening, he might consider staying longer.
‘Twasn’t until I was bent over the table mid-day that I realized what that thought had indicated. Iwantedto spend time with Vrogul? Or was this guilt? And if ‘twasguilt, was it guilt because I’d hurt him, or guilt that I’d pushed him out of his home?
‘Twas his choice. He was the one to steal you away, then leave you alone in his cottage.
Aye, and I was tired of it. The full moon was over three weeks away, and I was stuck here in the village until then.
If I was honest with myself, this wasn’t too much of a hardship.
Because I was coming to love Battleborn Village—the people were welcoming, the buildings were sturdy and cozy, and I was constantly amazed by the sense of community. The orcs and humans lived together in harmony andhelpedone another. The mining village where I’d lived the last two years was full of gossip and whispers and judgement, whereas here…
This place felt like someplace I would like to callhome, just as Matthias had suggested.
Frowning, I shook my head at my foolishness and punched the dough extra hard.
You are a prisoner of war, a captive. You cannot make a home here. ‘Tis your duty to escape, to go back to your world.
Then why was I making bread for Vrogul?
Not having any answers, I punched the dough again.
My mission to make his home more appealing worked, and he joined me for the evening meal for the first time. He sat across from me, his gaze on his food, not speaking much. The meal was good and he complimented me on it, but the company…
“Are you well?” I finally asked.
His eyes were sunken, his shoulders slumped, and although I was no expert on an orc’s coloring, he looked paler.
Vrogul glanced up at me, and I saw a pinprick of green in the center of each dark eye.
“Aye, lass.”
He picked up his spoon with a sigh, as if it were heavy.
“Just…” He rolled his neck, then his shoulders. When he winced, I understood. “No’ healing the way I ought to.”
Guilt pierced my stomach. I’d done this to him.
Aye, because he is your enemy!
Was. Hewasmy enemy, there on that beach.
