No. There was no way Geva would escape this. She had a motive. She had opportunity. And despite her best efforts, she’d never had good relations with the rest of the servants, and the tale of her thorough dressing-down from Mrs. Fitzwald would already have been making the rounds, poisoning them even more against her. And perhaps most damning of all, those cursed orcshadkept to that treaty of theirs. There hadn’t been any credible orc thefts — or threats — reported in the area inyears.
All of which meant Geva had very little time before being accused of this crime. Perhaps until nightfall. And once the full breadth of the theft was realized, she would be — she would be —
“Ach, my sweet,” broke in the orc’s voice, and when Geva’s wet, blinking eyes glanced up, she found the orc carefully watching her. His head tilted, his dark gaze unreadable, as his big hand smoothly tucked her life’s savings, her very last hope, into his belt with all the rest. “Do not weep. You are a clever woman, and you have shown a cool head and strong mettle, ach? You shall soon find another way to earn this coin again.”
But the dread and the disbelief kept curdling, cracking, breaking Geva apart, and she heard herself bark a loud, painful-sounding laugh. “You’re wrong, you cold cheating bastard,” she gulped, before she could possibly stop it. “You’re so,sowrong. You know nothing about me, or my life here. You have no idea what you’re doing to me, or how you’re ruining me! You’re ruiningeverything!”
The orc blinked at her, looking genuinely taken aback, and Geva laughed again, even as hot wetness finally spilled from her eyes, and escaped down her cheeks. “They’ll blame me,” she gasped. “They’ll blame me for all of it. I amfinishedhere, orc. And even when I run for the hills the moment you leave, do you think I will ever,everwork in education again? Do you think I’m just some nondescript, forgettable governess who will easily find another post under another name, without any references? Do you not realize how impossible that is, even without looking likethis?!”
She waved frantically at her face and her hair, at the distinctly Eziran features that would stand out in any busy marketplace in the province. While the orc just kept blinking at her, his brow now heavily furrowed, his head tilting further. But not speaking, not even attempting a response, and Geva made a sound that might have been a sob, or a scream.
“Thanks to you, my career is finished,” she choked out. “And now, I can look forward to running for my life, and living in poverty for the rest of my days!”
The orc’s mouth briefly contorted, his nostrils flaring — but then he squeezed his eyes shut, and turned his face away. “Ach,” he said, his voice gruff. “Then mayhap — here. Keep this, woman.”
He’d thrust her little bag of coins back toward her, and though Geva’s trembling hand instantly snatched it away, clutching it close to her heart, she couldn’t seem to stop weeping, or shaking her head. There was no way. This might get her to the next town over, it might keep her fed for a week or two, but then…
“It doesn’t matter,” she gasped, between sobs. “Nothing matters anymore. You’re ruining my entirelife. And I know it wasn’t much, but I’ve tried so hard, I’ve survived so long, and now it’sover!”
There was an instant’s thick silence, broken only by the sound of her gulps, the feel of her shaky hand swiping at her tears. Gods, what was she going to do, this foul orc needed to go the hell away, get out of her destroyed life forever, and then…
“Ach, woman,” came his low voice, sounding stilted, almost hesitant. “Do not — do not weep thus. Mayhap we —”
But at that very moment, there was a voice. A familiar voice. The voice of the Fitzwalds’butler. Calling for her.
“Miss Okoro!” it shouted, as the distinctive sound of footsteps thudded up the stairs. “Miss Okoro, are you up here?”
And it wasn’t just one set of footsteps, it was several, and Geva’s heart was reeling again, raging through her chest. What if the other servants found her with anorcin her bedroom? Oh gods, would he go off andkillthem?! Or — or even if he didn’t kill them, they would see, they would find out everything, she had to dosomething—
But before her, the orc had frozen in place, his hand clutching his sword-hilt, his wide eyes darting desperately around the small room. Searching for escape, for a way to survive this — but there was no other door, no windows, no way out.
They were trapped.Finished.
And without thought, without hesitation, Geva rushed forward, grasped the orc’s huge arm — and then she dragged him into the half-open wardrobe, and yanked the door shut behind them.
5
Geva was trapped with an orc in a wardrobe.
She couldn’t seem to stop trembling as she clutched behind her for the wardrobe’s back wall, her ragged breaths far too loud in the cramped darkness. And worst of all, this huge, deadly orc was far,fartoo close, his solid, rigid body pressed tight against hers, enough that she could feel the softness of his belly, could feel his hard chest hollowing as he exhaled.
“Miss Okoro!” the butler’s voice called again, even closer now. “Are you up here? The Missus sent word back, young Sir forgot his —”
The footsteps were just outside the room now, and Geva felt her body trembling even harder, shuddering between the solid wall and the orc. Would the servants be able to hear, would they see something wrong with the wardrobe, would they come over and fling the door open? And what then, would the orc retaliate, would he attack them with that deadly sword, it would be grief and misery and death, no, no, notagain, and —
And then something settled against Geva’shair. Something heavy and warm, and moving with careful, gentle strokes.
It was — the orc. The orc was —pettingher?
Geva should have elbowed him, kneed him in the groin,something— she did not need petting, and her hair didnotlike being touched — but instead, she felt herself… sagging. Breathing. The uncontrollable trembling finally fading a little, as that big, warm hand kept stroking her, again and again. Moving with slow, astonishing gentleness, as if it were soothing a particularly skittish cat.
“Could’ve sworn I heard that high-and-mighty governess screeching up here,” said another voice, nasal and waspish. It was one of the Fitzwalds’ footmen, and Geva shuddered again as the footfalls came closer, closer…
“Hearing her in your mind, now, are you, boy?” the butler’s deeper voice replied, with audible mirth. “Just be glad you’re not one of the Master’s brats, and stuck in the schoolroom with her scolding you all day.”
The footman gave a loud, contemptuous laugh, and they were clearly inside the room now, only a few steps away, oh gods. “Some good it does ‘em, too,” his nasal voice replied. “Those rotten kids are worse now than they ever were before. She’s been a bad influence on them, I think.”
The butler muttered some kind of agreement, but Geva couldn’t hear it, because the orc — who had leaned even tighter against her in the cramped darkness — had huffed a harsh, angry exhale, alarmingly close in her ear. The sound nearly a growl, almost as if — as if he wasoffendedon her behalf.
