“I ken Ash-Kai are not all so bad after all, Papa,” Bram was gravely saying, to his big, scarred Grisk father. “They did not even seek to send me to war!”
Geva had thankfully thought to tuck away the wooden swords prior to this, promising they would safely await the Grisks’ return in the morning, and she waved goodbye to Bram and his father with as much innocence as she could muster. And soon nearly all the orclings were gone, and Geva was saying goodbye to Sune, using the palm-outfarewellsign Timo had shown her amidst the hubbub.
“Thank you so much for coming,” she told him, angling an uneasy glance up toward a forbidding, frowning Ulfarr. “It was so lovely to have Sune with us. And, he was the best in the class at hiding his scent! Not even Timo could consistently find him, right, Timo?”
Timo, who had been heading out the door with Varinn and Trygve, turned back long enough to make a purposeful-looking sign toward Sune, almost like a challenge. “Tomorrow, brother,” he said cheerfully. “My Grisk nose shall defeat your Skai sneaking yet, you shall see.”
Sune’s blank, inscrutable face hadn’t betrayed any kind of response to this, but at Ulfarr’s heavy hand settling on his shoulder, he twitched a little nod. And finally, Ulfarr and Sune turned and walked out too, leaving Geva alone with Jule and Grimarr, Grimarr now holding a boneless, softly snoring Tengil against his chest.
“That was spectacular, sister,” Jule told Geva, with a warm, beaming grin. “They loved it, and you areincredibleat this, you must know. I can’t tell you how much we appreciate it.”
Beside Jule, Grimarr was giving a slow, serious nod, his eyes glancing around the cheerful, messy room. “Ach, we thank you, sister,” he said, his voice very low. “This is… a great gift. One I would not have hoped to see, in my lifetime.”
Well. Geva’s throat felt too thick to speak, suddenly, though she managed a watery-feeling smile. To which Jule gave a knowing smile back, and then waved Geva toward the door. “Now, we’ll clean up,” she said, with that familiar stubborn glint in her eyes, “while you go revel in your accomplishments, all right? And maybe have a well-deserved nap?”
Geva attempted to refuse, but promptly found herself being escorted out of the room in Jule’s surprisingly powerful grip. And in truth, a nap did sound wonderful, and once she’d staggered back to their bedroom, she almost instantly fell asleep on the soft, warm furs, their sweet scent of Rathgarr drifting deeper with every breath.
When she awoke again, the faint daylight from above was gone, replaced by the soft orange light of the lamp, and the bed was sagging, as if beneath a heavy weight. Beneath Rathgarr’s weight, it turned out, and Geva yawned as she rolled over toward where he was sitting on the bed, and smiling down at her with surprising softness in his eyes.
“Weary, poppet?” he asked. “I have brought you some supper, should you wish.”
Geva perked up at that, and soon found herself sitting across from him on the bed, eating from the large bowl of remarkably delicious fried meat and vegetables he’d brought. “So how did it go with Kesst?” she asked him, between bites from her fork. “Did you two manage to get along?”
“Ach, this was the best so far,” Rathgarr admitted, with another disarmingly soft smile. “We made a meal together — this is some of what was left over — and then went to the Grisk storage-room. Those Grisk, poppet, given a few years of freedom and peace” — he gave a wry shake of his head — “they have gathered a hoard even greater than my father’s. And they say Ash-Kai are greedy!”
Geva consciously refrained from glancing toward his trove-room, and instead smiled back at him, and took another bite. “Did you buy anything, then?” she asked. “A new gift for Kesst, maybe?”
Rathgarr sighed, and shook his head again. “He would not hear of it,” he said. “And thus it seemed ill-judged to buy for myself, so” — he grimaced — “instead, we chose gifts for you.”
“Gifts for me?” Geva echoed, her voice unaccountably high-pitched. “Really? Like what?”
Rathgarr shrugged, his eyes now carefully intent on Geva’s supper. “A few more frocks,” he said, with an offhanded jerk of his head toward the wardrobe. “And… this.”
His hand had reached into his pocket, and re-emerged holding — Geva’s breath choked, her fork dropping into her bowl — something large, shiny, and glittering. A gold cuff, she realized, made of multiple intricate twining strands, with a stunning, sparkling red ruby set into it.
“Kesst thought it should match your wedding-ring,” Rathgarr said gruffly, as he thrust it into Geva’s slack hand. “He thinks very well of you, ach?”
Oh. Geva couldn’t stop blinking at the cuff in her hand, feeling its heavy weight, watching that ruby flash and sparkle in the lamplight. “But this — this must have cost you a fortune, Rathgarr,” she managed, over her very tight throat, and gods, it was so stunning, and she couldn’t pretend it was hers, she couldn’t. Any more that she could pretend the wedding-ring was hers, either, and —
“Ach, I have the gold,” Rathgarr said, a little too dismissively. “And Kesst says I ought to be gifting you more jewels, to keep you from running off, once you learn the truth of me.”
He accompanied this with a rueful half-smile, but Geva truly couldn’t move now, her panicked eyes darting between the cuff and his face. “But — you’ll want me to give it back, after?” she whispered. “Like the ring? When — we leave here?”
Gods, it almost hurt to say it, to bring that up again — and her faint, whispering hope that Rathgarr might argue it was decisively dashed by his careless, too-casual shrug. “We can speak of it then,” he said. “We yet have nineteen days, ach?”
Geva’s hard swallow was surely audible, her eyes entirely unable to meet his, but she made herself nod. Nineteen days. One step forward at a time…
But even once Rathgarr had set aside the bowl, and once again put his tongue to staggering, spectacular use, Geva still couldn’t stop thinking of it, not even as her body trembled with the aftershocks of his pleasure, his reward. Nineteen days. For his secret schemes, whatever they were. For his vengeance.
“Have you… made any progress, then?” she ventured, quiet, once Rathgarr was again curled up behind her in the dark. “On your… dramatic plans?”
Rathgarr’s body had gone still against her, his breath exhaling slow against her hair. But he didn’t reply, and the silence seemed to keep expanding, deeper and heavier between them. He didn’t want to tell her. Didn’t, perhaps, want to lie.
“You can trust me, you know,” Geva’s voice said, sounding far too plaintive. “I’ve kept all your secrets so far, haven’t I? Kept up our…deception?”
She winced at the word, at the continuing, thickening silence behind her, smothering all else between its weight. Until Rathgarr huffed a sigh, and drew her a little closer against him.
“You have been… perfect, poppet,” he said finally, his voice just as thick as the silence. “It is not… you, ach? It is just… all humans. All women.”
