“Careful, poppet,” said the orc, with a cool lightness that scraped and strained against Geva’s heaving stomach. “Are you always this skittish, to be falling over your own feet?”
He was mocking her again, laughing at her again, and Geva furiously shoved away from him, and grabbed unseeing for her satchel. And it was only once she’d turned her back to him, her satchel clutched to her chest, that she could find her voice again, find words to say in the abject, clawing misery.
“One month,” she choked. “One month, orc, and then I never, ever want to see youagain!”
And before he could reply, she stumbled toward the door, and rushed out into the waiting darkness, alone.
8
Geva only made it halfway down the back stairs before she’d slowed to a stop, squeezing her eyes shut, gripping her satchel tighter to her chest.
She had no idea where she was going. No idea where the other servants might be. No idea how she could possibly leave here without raising suspicion, without being seen or caught or…
“Ach, this way is good,” cut in the orc’s low voice behind her. “I ken those other humans have all gone to the wine-cellar, and there are no more within scenting distance.”
Right. Soconvenient, that this horrid bastard could apparently only smell people when it suited him, but Geva nodded, and began moving again. Keeping her gaze straight ahead as she crept down the stairs, and out the servants’ side door, into the bright afternoon sunlight.
One month, her whirling thoughts repeated, as she drew in deep, shuddering breaths of fresh cool air. She would put up with this foul snake for one month, and then leave this cursed continent behind forever.
“This way,” the orc said, as he brushed past Geva, and strode toward the small patch of overgrown forest — likely once a garden — that surrounded the Fitzwalds’ house. “We ought to stay hidden until we are well past the village, ach?”
Geva gave another grudging nod that he couldn’t see, and hurried to catch up to his big striding form. “And then where?” she made herself ask, her stiff voice still not her own. “Southwest, you said?”
“Ach,” he replied, giving a curt nod over his shoulder as he slipped into the dense line of trees. “It shall take five more days on foot, I ken, to reach Orc Mountain.”
Wait. Geva’s mouth fell open, and she stumbled to a halt, just within the edge of the forest. “Orc Mountain?” she echoed, her voice shrill. “You’re taking me toOrc Mountain?!”
A flare of piercing, ice-cold fear flashed up her spine, because this damned devious orc hadnotsaid anything about Orc Mountain… had he? And while Geva had always attempted to ignore the worst rumours about the orcs, the terrifying tales were already here, swirling through her thoughts with an alarming vividness they’d never carried before. Orc Mountain was a huge, horrifying death-trap, a labyrinth of inescapable tunnels and mines, brewing filth and blight and disease. And of course, it was overrun by countless packs of greedy, violent, slavering orcs, desperate for gold and power and sons.
And once a woman entered Orc Mountain, she would never come out again.Never.
“Ach, Orc Mountain,” the orc was saying, frowning at Geva over his shoulder. “I told you I travel to the home of my kin, ach? Where else do you ken this should be?”
Geva’s mouth was opening and closing, her eyes goggling at his back. “Well — why wouldyouassume any woman would volunteer to go to Orc Mountain?” she spluttered. “You can’t honestly think I want to risk mylifefor this job? Or that I want to risk getting snatched away from you by someotherorc whodoeswant a son, and then find myself pregnant and trapped in Orc Mountain forever?!”
The orc whirled fully around to glare at her, clearly about to respond in kind — but then, to her vague surprise, he winced, and glanced away. “Your life shall not be forfeit,” he said flatly. “And you shall not be trapped or stolen, or filled with a son. I told you, you shall bearmyscent, and this shall keep yousafe. So long as you scent of me, no other orc shall touch you.”
Oh. Geva still felt cold and shivery all over, her eyes searching the orc’s set face. “But how can you be sure,” she managed. “There’s only one of you, and likely thousands of them, and —”
She couldn’t finish, biting her lip, and before her the orc visibly exhaled, his shoulders sagging. “There is no need to fear, woman,” he said, his voice low. “I cannot swear we will face no danger amidst this, but I shall do all within my power to keep you safe. I swear this to you.”
His sharp-taloned hand was on his sword-hilt again, flexing with genuine-looking purpose. And Geva found herself blinking at that, and then up at his eyes. At their sudden, surprising determination, dark and distant and strangely unsettling. Suggesting that… this meant something to him. Something important.
“You’ll forgive me if I remain skeptical,” she replied, her voice still damnably weak. “I mean, you’ve already threatened to kill me yourself once today, remember?”
The orc’s eyes briefly dropped to Geva’s throat, while something she couldn’t read passed across his face — but then he spun away again, striding deeper into the trees. “I always begin with this threat,” he said, over his shoulder. “It makes the work far faster, you ken. Had it gone as I meant today, I would have then bought your silence with some foolish trinket, and we should all now be content.”
Wait, really?! Good gods, this uttercretin, and Geva glared at his diminishing back, at that huge black cloak billowing out behind him. At where — she blinked — the cloak whirled sideways, and then upwards, into the low branches of a nearby tree. And when he leapt down again, he was now in possession of a huge, heavy-looking leather pack, and — an apple?
“Here,” he told Geva, holding out the apple, which he’d apparently stabbed onto hisclaw. “We have much ground to cover before nightfall, ach?”
Geva eyed the apple for an uneasy instant, but then gingerly plucked it off his claw, and took a careful bite. Earning a short, approving grunt from the orc, who then spun and strode off again.Leaving her to stumble along behind him on a narrow but serviceable path, eating her apple, while also trying in vain to keep her voluminous skirts out of the surrounding greenery.
But the apple was helping, Geva could admit, and so was the fresh air, and the quiet forest all around — and maybe, maybe even that fervent-sounding promise of his.I shall do all within my power to keep you safe. And she found her breaths steadily coming deeper as she walked, her frazzled thoughts settling back into a grim, resigned determination.
She was looking forward. Doing the next thing. Leaving the Fitzwalds, taking on a new job, and then sailing across the sea. And all she had to do — her eyes narrowed at his steadily striding bulk ahead — was pretend to care for this belligerent orc. For one month. At Orc Mountain.
And the better job she did of it, the more he would pay.
