Geva’s thoughts were straining to keep up with all this — had she just said they had apleasure-den? — but Rosa was still looking at her expectantly, waiting for an answer, so she squared her shoulders, and jerked a shaky nod. She was doing this to learn, wasn’t she? To try to be the best possible helpmate for Rathgarr? Even if there were…pleasure-densinvolved?
It had clearly been the right response, because Rosa was looking ecstatically pleased again, and excitedly waved Geva and Jule down yet another corridor. Until she’d halted outside the door of a dimly lit room, and gestured for them to come look inside.
And it was — well. A… pleasure-den. A room clearly dedicated to physical enjoyment, and to all the games one could possibly play to gain it. There were chains, and shackles, and a stunning variety of distinctly shaped implements, many of them strapped to the solid stone walls — and among them,usingthem, were orcs. Perhaps a half-dozen moaning, gasping orcs, writhing and driving against one another with shameless abandon. Wielding mouths, hands, claws,teeth.
Thankfully, it was difficult to make out most of the orcs’ faces, due to the fading light from the guttering fire — at least, until Geva’s eyes caught on the orc nearest them. He was bent over a bench, his head bowed, his shaky hands holding himself up on muscular arms — while behind him, another large, vicious-looking orc slammed his hips powerfully against his bared backside. And wrapped around that orc’s hand was a thick, heavy chain — and when he yanked on it, the kneeling orc’s head snapped up, revealing his flushed, sweat-streaked face, his gasping mouth, the thick steel cuff clasped around his corded neck.
Geva blinked, and then froze all over, because wait.Wait. Good gods, she recognized this orc. It was —
“Abjorn?” she gasped, without at all meaning to. “Really?”
But yes, it was most certainly him, Rathgarr’s eager, cheerful Ka-esh friend. And to her ongoing astonishment, Abjorn’s mouth twitched into a brief but delighted smile, one of his hands lifting to give her an enthusiastic little wave. An action which prompted the orc behind him to growl and yank fiercely at his chain, making Abjorn’s head snap back again, his throat hissing deep and low. And then he was clearly lost in it again, his eyes fluttering, his handsome face rapt with mingled pain and pleasure.
“Er, thanks, Rosa,” Geva choked out, her feet stumbling backwards into the corridor, her hands rubbing at her eyes. “That was — very — enlightening?”
Beside her, Jule laughed, and gave her a bracing clap on the back. “See anything you like?” she said cheerfully. “Perhaps you and Rathgarr can pay a visit later?”
Geva’s mouth opened and closed, her face flushing hot, and suddenly there was only a deep, sickening misery, clutching in her belly.DidRathgarr enjoy such things?Couldthat be another truth he hadn’t told her? Especially if such a close friend clearly partook of it, very freely?
But wait, no, Rathgarr liked soft women, sweet women, quiet women, who did what they were told. And gods, Geva didn’t know whether that was better or worse — or curse it, why she even cared. This was just a job, working for an arrogant orc who couldn’t even be bothered to meet her, the way he’d promised. One month, and then the sea.
And damn it, Jule had likely caught some of that, because she quickly cut in to thank Rosa for the tour, and was soon ushering Geva back up the corridor again, toward the rest of the mountain. Toward where perhaps Rathgarr would finally reappear, and explain what had possibly been so important, and why he hadn’t come, all this time…
“Do you still want to stop in to see Efterar?” Jule asked now, her voice careful. “It will only take a moment, I imagine?”
“Might as well,” Geva said, with a failed attempt at a smile, and therefore soon found herself entering yet another unfamiliar, firelit room. It was clearly a sickroom of sorts, and it was beautifully appointed, boasting multiple metal-framed beds separated by dividers, along with a variety of shelves and cozy-looking furniture. Several of the beds were occupied by sleeping orcs, and bending over one of them was Kesst’s mate Efterar. And — Geva froze — striding out from a back room was Kesst himself.
He was just as smartly dressed as the day before, wearing close-fitting leather trousers, long dangling earrings that glittered in the firelight, and a gleaming, intricate cuff around his bicep. But his handsome face was looking more drawn than before, and there were dark, heavy circles beneath his eyes.
“Oh,” he said, his lean body jerking to stillness, his tired eyes narrowing on Geva. “Hello. Where’s Rath? Already run for the hills again?”
Beside Geva, Jule cleared her throat, and gave Kesst a meaningful look. “Be nice, Kesst,” she said. “And we’re actually here to see Efterar, if he might have a moment?”
“Oh, ofcourse,” Kesst icily replied, as he waved furiously toward Efterar, and then whirled around, and stalked off again. Disappearing into wherever he’d come from, and Geva winced, and nearly made to call after him — but Efterar had quickly come over, and asked how he might be of assistance.
Geva’s throat felt horribly tight, her eyes still angling after where Kesst had gone, but thankfully Jule once again jumped in, and explained why they’d come. How Geva still wasn’t feeling quite ready for a son yet, and would appreciate his help in gaining a little more time.
“Yes, I’d be happy to help,” Efterar said, with genuine-seeming firmness, as his big hand slowly reached out, and hovered in the vicinity of Geva’s waist. And deep inside her, she could feel something tickling, shifting,moving.
“There, that should do it,” Efterar said after a moment, drawing his hand away. “Now just come back when you’d like it reversed, all right? And feel free to let me or Gwyn know if you have any questions or problems at all.”
Jule was smiling and thanking Efterar, as if this were all an entirely ordinary occurrence, but Geva was struck stunned and silent again, gaping at Efterar’s scarred, genial face. How thehellhad he just done that? Had he just — was he — why hadn’t Rathgarrsaid—
“Er, th-thank you,” she belatedly stammered. “I’m very grateful for your help.”
Efterar waved it away, though his eyes were perhaps a little too knowing on hers. “Is there anything else I can help with?” he asked mildly. “Any other questions?”
And gods, Geva needed to pull herself together. Needed to do a good job of this. To be a good helpmate, even if Rathgarr damn well didn’t deserve it. One month, and then the sea.
“Er, y-yes, actually,” she made herself say. “Rathgarr and I — we would very much love to spend some time with you and Kesst, and talk through some things.”
Efterar blinked, his brows rising, but he didn’t speak, so Geva drew in a breath, and soldiered on. “I know it’s all been very difficult, and of course we understand if Kesst isn’t ready to meet, or discuss it yet. But I also know” — her voice steadied, strengthened — “how much Rathgarr missed him, and how much he’s grieved being away from him, all this time. He was completely horrified by everything Kesst told us yesterday, and while he knows he can’t make amends, he will do whatever he can to try.”
Efterar was watching her very closely, his eyes wary but considering — and then he glanced, purposefully, toward the back corner. “Sweet-Fang?” he called. “Will you come, for a moment?”
There was an instant’s silence, and then Kesst stalked around the corner again, his mouth pursed, his shoulders very stiff. And when Geva opened her mouth to say it all again, he frantically waved his hands, and lurched into the circle of Efterar’s waiting arm.
“Yes, yes, I heard,” he snapped. “And if Rath really feels that way, why couldn’t he have come to ask me himself?”
