It was unquestionably foolish, and surely out of place, inserting herself where she had absolutely no business being — but Kesst had blinked at her, once, twice. And suddenly his face was twisting into something much like chagrin, or regret.
“Ah,” he said, with a wincing little smile. “Right. Welcome to Orc Mountain, sweetheart. Aren’t you glad you came?”
20
Aren’t you glad you came.
For another fraught, frozen instant, Geva blinked at Kesst, her heart hammering against her ribs, her voice locked in her throat. Until he smiled again, even more regretful than before.
“There’s no need to look so stricken, sweetheart, I swear,” he said, with an obvious attempt at lightness. “Things are much better around here these days. And at least I was of age, and luckily” — his eyes angled toward Efterar beside him — “Ilovefucking. The bigger the better, hmmm?”
Efterar twitched an affectionate little smile back toward Kesst, but there was an unmistakable sadness in his eyes, too. Suggesting, perhaps, that what Kesst had faced in Rathgarr’s absence had indeed been just as horrifying as it sounded, and that Kesst diminishing it, downplaying it like this, was perhaps nothing new.
And beside Geva, Rathgarr was looking as though he’d followed that too easily too, his face gone even paler, his mouth opening and closing. And gods, they had to say something, Kesst wanted them to say something,something, and Geva gulped down air, and gave Rathgarr’s cold, clammy-feeling hand a tight, sustained squeeze.
“Er, so, I’m Geva,” she managed, her voice someone else’s. “Geva Okoro. It’s so lovely to finally meet you.”
“Solovely, I’m sure,” Kesst said, but there was no malice in his voice now, only that same dry regret. “I’m Kesst, Rath’s surly little blood-brother, as I’m sure you’ve realized. And this” — he nudged at the big, heavy-featured orc beside him — “is Efterar. My mate, and Orc Mountain’s Chief Healer.”
Geva briefly considered extending her hand, but instead clenched it against her heart, the way Rathgarr had done. “Very happy to meet you, Efterar,” she said, pronouncing the unfamiliar name as carefully as she could. “Are you from the Ash-Kai clan, as well?”
Efterar’s thick brows rose, but he nodded, and made the same gesture in return. “Yes, I am,” he said, also without any trace of an accent whatsoever. “But I was raised in Salven, rather than here at the mountain. How about you? Where are you from?”
Geva swallowed down her reflexive twitch at the too-familiar question, which so often carried pointed undertones, and attempted another smile. “I was born and raised in Wolfen,” she replied, “but I’ve spent the last few years living in the north of Tlaxca, and working there as a governess.”
This Efterar gave a nod and a careful smile at that, though his eyes had angled back toward Kesst, who was eyeing Geva with rather unsettling intensity. “Wait, you’re agoverness?” he echoed. “You really mean to tell us thatRathactually fell in love with aschoolteacher?”
He was jabbing his claw at Rathgarr again, who — despite having regained a little more colour in his face — was still an unmoving, unhelpful lump beside her. And once again, Geva had to shove down that ridiculous twist of uncertainty, of misery, he’d had a hundred lovers, one month, this was her job,damnit —
“Believe me, I was just as surprised as you are,” she finally said to Kesst, her voice passably light. “But I was trapped working at a truly terrible post, for absolutely abhorrent employers. And Rathgarr” — she shot a smile toward his stiff, still-frozen face — “saw my distress, and offered to help me.”
Rathgarr gave no indication of actually having heard her, but that was surely interest in Kesst’s eyes, or maybe disbelief. “Really?” he demanded, with palpable skepticism. “So what, Rath, you’ve spent the last sixteen years jaunting willy-nilly around the realm, searching for lonely, down-on-their-luck women to ‘rescue’?”
There was an unmistakable edge on his voice, and Geva bit back her wince, her unnerving realization that she still had very little conception of what Rathgarr had actually done with himself, all those years. Had he truly spent the entire time running about stealing? Seeking out unsuspecting women to share his bed?
But Rathgarr still wasn’t speaking, his eyes still arrested on Kesst’s face, so Geva cleared her throat, and desperately attempted a wry smile. “Er, well, I’m quite sure he had no intention whatsoever of rescuing me, at first,” she said, with what she hoped was a teasing glance toward Rathgarr’s immobile profile. “But the more we got to know each other, the more we began to appreciate one another. He says it’s the proper Ash-Kai way, to find the ill-treated person you like best, and keep them safe and content.”
There was another instant’s silence, in which Kesst and Efterar exchanged a long, unreadable look — and then Efterar snorted, while Kesst let out a choked, reluctant laugh. “Right, I suppose we’ll give you that, Rath,” he said, raising his chin as he glanced toward Rathgarr again. “Well, do you have anything else to say for yourself, then?”
But beside Geva, Rathgarr still hadn’t moved, or spoken. And when she gave him another surreptitious little nudge, he seemed to snap all over, yanking awkwardly for his pack, and fishing furiously around inside it.
“Ach,” he said, in a strangled-sounding voice, as he thrust something out toward Kesst. “A gift, brother.”
It was a small, long, narrow item, tightly wrapped in cloth, and Kesst carefully took it, a wary, watchful look in his eyes. And once he’d flicked off the cloth with his claws, Geva realized it was the dagger. The beautiful, jewel-studded dagger that Rathgarr had stolen from the Fitzwalds.
“Oh,” Kesst said, his voice blank. “Father’s, isn’t it?”
Rathgarr fervently nodded, a sudden, strange twist on his mouth — but then Kesst swiftly re-wrapped the dagger, and shoved it back toward him. “No, thank you,” he said smoothly. “I have no desire whatsoever to brood over gaudy heirlooms from our witless brute father. I think you’d be better off keeping this for yourself,brother.”
Geva couldn’t hide her grimace, her uncertain glance up toward Rathgarr’s face. Toward where he looked truly ill now, and he hadn’t even reached to take the dagger back. And gods, were they truly going to fight over this too, and Geva somehow reached and plucked the dagger from Kesst’s hand, flashing him an apologetic smile.
“Perfectly understandable if this isn’t your preference, of course,” she said. “I know Rathgarr’s brought you a variety of other gifts as well, since he very much wishes to —”
“No,” Kesst hissed, not even looking at Geva now, his eyes again narrow and flinty on Rathgarr’s face. “No gifts. No bribes.No coin. You need to know” — he raised his chin higher — “there isnothingI need from you, Rathgarr. Nothing I haven’t found on my own, these past sixteen years. You know, you’re damned lucky” — Kesst’s voice deepened into something darker, colder — “I’m even lowering myself tospeakto you right now. Not a single apology? Not one explanation?Nothing?! It was sixteenyears, you uselessarsehole, without one letter, without even a damnedFarewell, good luck, I hope you don’t DIE!”
The words felt almost like blows, striking powerfully against Rathgarr’s faintly flinching form, but Geva was almost resigned to his ongoing choked, desperate silence, to the horrible, visceral misery contorting his face.
“I am — sorry,” he gulped at Kesst, too loud, far too late. “I am sorry. I —”
