"The men were out of line. I'm sorry. I'll talk to them."
I nodded, like an idiot.
"Rowena." My name sounded so strange in his lips. "We need…"
My heart drummed.
"...we need to talk about what happened to your feet."
I didn't know what to say, couldn't read mind-games in his silhouette. "I walked on them."
"I know. It's my fault that you got hurt like this. I'm used to traveling in rough conditions; it didn't occur to me that you wouldn't be outfitted. We shod our toddlers better than that." He took a breath. "You're not an orc, and your people are not orcs, and it was on me to remember that."
Was I supposed to nod? How was I supposed to respond to this?
"But Rowena…I need you to tell me when things are wrong. As my wife. I did not take you from your family so you could bleed through your shoes. I did not…make you ours so you could suffer."
He didn't sound angry. Just…tired.
"Your body, your wellbeing here, that is my responsibility. So please, tell me. Tell me if you hurt."
I almost laughed. It sounded like a joke. I would be pressed to name a part of me that didn't hurt right now. Perhaps my teeth? "Alright," I said. "I will remember." Even the mostgenerous men had limits. Best not to waste any crumb of goodwill till I was truly desperate.
He was quiet in the dark. "I should not be the one speaking to you about this. You should have…someone who knows something." He drew breath. "Your magic…"
My throat closed up.
"From the little I know, if your power is awakening, it will continue to awaken. And it will…it will sap your energy. I don't know if that means we need to feed you more, or if you'll need to rest, or…" he was fumbling. I almost couldn't follow what he was saying, just focused on, he would not lock me up. He would not send me back. "If you're more hungry, or you need to rest, please ask. We need you strong."
"Strong as a hostage, or strong as a sorceress?" I whispered.
He drew in a shuddering breath. "Both. You are both. But you are also one of us."
That was a moniker I had not expected; one of a band of orcs. "One of us."
A cloud covered the moon.
"I know you're running from something," he said into the dark between us. "I've seen the marks, and I know you were not eager to wed me because you were suddenly taken by my countenance. You flee something that maybe I cannot imagine now. I certainly couldn't have imagined you three days ago." He bowed his head, and the faint light of the stars concealed as much as it drew his features. "You don't have to trust me yet. But know, it was my pledge to keep you safe. I hope someday you'll tell me what we're running from."
I stood in the silence, digesting that. Khal didn't know this relationship would be over in maybe a week's time. He didn't know it was pointless to bother himself with a story he didn't need to know. "Thank you," I said. "You're…kind." I meant it. I had thrown myself to destruction for my sister, and maybe he was still kinder than me.
"You don't seem comfortable with the idea of someone carrying you."
"I'm not."
The moment stretched, only breaths between us. Was this it, then? Was this when he-
"We should go check on Tyralk." He cleared his throat, cleared his throat again.
"Oh," I said. "Yes. Tyralk."
I stepped into a hole and fell.
"Rowena! Are you alright?"
"I'm fine?—"
He lifted me out, and I thought of the awkward way one picks up a cat. He set me on my feet. "Did you hurt your leg?"
