She let that hang in the air, smiling serenely toward them, before kneeling to pet Mr. Stinkles. Making the men take more steps backwards, except for the handsome captain, who was still clearly trying to collect himself. “R-right, then,” he said, with a curt nod, and a speaking glance back toward his rapidly retreating men. “Well, if we have any further questions, we’ll let you…”
His voice faded, his eyes sliding to something behind Raye, holding with surprising intensity. And when she followed his gaze backwards, she found — goddess damn it. Othan’s big, distinctive drum, sitting tucked under the bench by the table, where she hadn’t even seen it. Fuck.
“Oh, yes, and did I tell you, I’m musical, too,” Raye said, too quickly. “I found that at a market last month, would you like to hear me —”
But her voice frayed, choked, because — there was Othan himself. Lurching out from the fireplace, and staring stunned and blank toward the doorway. Or rather, toward the handsome captain still standing there within it.
Raye hissed through her teeth toward Othan, shot him a disbelievingwhat-the-fuck-are-you-doinglook — but he didn’t move, or show her any acknowledgement. And instead, his eyesstayed locked on the man in the door, while the man stared straight back at him, unmoving, his face almost as pale as the white clouds in the sky above him.
“Othan?” the man finally breathed, and Raye gaped toward him, her brows furrowing. Did this man…knowOthan? He did, surely? And Othan knew him?
But Othan nodded, fast and jerky, his face deeply flushed. “Ach,” he whispered, running one hand over his mouth, while his other hand adjusted the — the growingbulgein his trousers, goddess damn it. And the man’s staring eyes had dropped to that too, his face suddenly swarming with red, his head shaking back and forth.
“N-no,” he hissed, squeezing his eyes shut, stumbling back from the door. “No. I’m —engaged. I —”
He whirled around and rushed away toward the other two men, his back very straight, his neck still splotched with red. And after barking a few clipped orders about their next location, he stalked off through the trees, his hand tightly gripping his sword hilt, the other two men trailing behind him.
At least he hadn’t told the other men about Othan, or spurred them to attack, but once Raye had shut and barred the door again, she whirled to glare at Othan’s face, while the rest of the band’s orcs swarmed up into the room. “What the hell, brother!” she exclaimed. “We have a plan! You can’t just barge up here, and start petting the pole in your trousers!”
But Othan hadn’t betrayed any signs whatsoever of hearing her, his face gone increasingly haggard and wan, and Egil strode up beside him, gave a sympathetic pat to his arm. “Ach, so he is the human scent upon you,” he said. “Is he hunting you, mayhap? Following the call of the bond?”
Othan had already begun to shake his head, but then he blinked and swallowed. “I am sure… he would not,” he replied slowly. “He is…engaged, he said. To bewed.”
“Ach, and mayhap not happy about this, if he is here hunting you,” Egil said cheerfully. “Take heart, brother, and have a sweetcake.”
Othan numbly accepted the sweetcake Egil swiped from the counter, while Kalfr and Gaelfr — who had both paused to listen to this, too — now strode over toward Raye at the door. Gaelfr eased up close beside her, stroking both hands rapidly against her, as if making sure she was still intact, while Kalfr leaned in to inhale at her throat, and waved behind him for Rurik.
“All good,sæta?” Kalfr asked. “They did not vex you, or threaten you, or aught else?”
Raye shook her head, and only half-noticed as Rurik came over too, and began healing the pockmarks on her face. They were only superficial lesions, easy for Rurik to both make and heal, but even after a dozen times doing this, Raye knew both Kalfr and Gaelfr still didn’t like it — didn’t like seeing her look wounded, didn’t like her greeting the men alone, didn’t like putting her in such danger.
But Raye was thebyrgi’s watcher, and she was still fully committed to Kalfr’s goal of making a new kind of band — one that wielded its cleverness and ingenuity to overcome its foes, and took advantage of each member’s strengths and skills. For this particular endeavour, alongside Rurik’s pockmarks, Fengr had sensed the men’s numbers and approach, Egil had scented their origins, Eyolf and Iyolf had handled the pets, and Grum had baked the sweetcakes — which, Raye had learned, often came in handy when diffusing such incidents, since most travelling men were hungry, and were often willing to overlook certain irregularities in exchange for delicious fresh treats.
So despite Kalfr and Gaelfr not liking this, Raye had held firm to her role and her power, and asked for their trust, and their support. And they’d both freely given it, though Raye could admit to a pang of guilt every time — especially about Gaelfr,who had become even more obsessively protective these past months, and considered it a great personal affront to see Raye in any kind of danger. And who, even now, was still frantically caressing her all over, while growling irritated orders at Rurik to hurry up and heal her faster.
“I’m fine, Gael,” Raye told him with exasperated fondness, circling her arm around his waist. “Although” — she met his eyes, gave him an impish grin — “I’ll admit, Iama little thirsty, if you don’t mind?”
It was always the easiest way to settle him again, and his eyes flared with hunger and relief as he straightened and nodded, and began tugging her toward the back bedroom. While Kalfr fondly chuckled behind them, and told them he would go keep an eye on Svein, who was still down below with Julian, finishing his morning lessons.
Raye gratefully called back her thanks as Gaelfr herded her into the room, and guided her down onto her side on the bed, so he could carefully lie down the other way beside her, and fit them both together. It was a variation of the way they’d done it that early memorable night at her cottage, and one they’d often returned to since — and Raye moaned at the familiar rich taste of his seed on her tongue, and the shimmering thrill of his own tongue lapping between her legs. Tending her with astonishing sweetness, offering her all his kindness and fealty and care, while wielding his own power, too. And Raye was more than happy to meet him in it, to trust him, to welcome all his scars and his gifts, and offer up her own in return.
“Thank you, Gael,” she murmured afterwards, shoving up to sit on the bed, stroking at her satisfyingly full belly. “I’m so blessed to have a mate who takes such good care of me.”
Gaelfr answered with a dismissive grunt, but he looked undeniably pleased, and his hand settled against hers, stroking with palpable reverence over the ever-growing roundness of herbelly. And as he shifted closer beside her, Raye could easily scent his peace, his contentment — and she could feel it, too, just as strong as her own.
It was another gift he’d helped to give her these past months, and it had happened so gradually she’d scarcely noticed — but at some point, she’d realized that she could scent when Kalfr or Gaelfr were near, and she could even sense how they felt, too. Whether it was peace, or pleasure, or hunger, or fear, or pain. An awareness that felt almost overwhelming, sometimes, enough that she would feel compelled to go offer her help and comfort, and do all within her power to draw out her mates’ peace and pleasure again. Just like Gaelfr had warned her about, all those months ago, and she now held a deep, abiding understanding of why he’d felt so driven to help and heal his woundedástvinur, no matter the cost.
But she knew it had drawn them all closer, and deepened their bonds with each other — and alongside it, just as Aulis had promised, she’d gained some other helpful gifts, too. One day, a few months before, she’d entirely forgotten to take the lamp when she’d gone downstairs, and she’d still been able to see underground, enough to navigate through what should have been pitch-darkness. She’d also found that her overall sense of smell had significantly improved, which had proven very helpful when cooking and gardening, and somewhat less helpful with pregnancy-related aversions and nausea — but luckily, all Gaelfr’s feeding seemed to help with those, too. And despite the fact that Raye was carrying two apparently large and hungry orc sons, she’d still felt remarkably healthy and energetic throughout her pregnancy, and she’d continued her daily training, though with several modifications from Gaelfr for her safety.
“Should you wish to rest further for a spell,sæta?” Gaelfr asked now, still stroking at Raye’s belly. “Or have a second round, mayhap?”
It was a surprisingly appealing thought, but Raye wryly smiled at him as she tugged him up to his feet. “You know I’d love to,” she said, “but Kalfr and I didn’t get a chance to do our survey yet, and we still have so much to get ready today. Our guests will be arriving before we know it.”
She was referring to the event they’d all been planning for weeks, now — a proper Bautul Brawl. Which was apparently not only a fighting tournament, as the title would suggest, but also a clan-wide event, held beneath the full moon, that featured music, dancing, performances, blessings, and of course, as much delicious Bautul cooking as you could eat. The Brawl was another one of the lost Bautul traditions that Kalfr had unearthed, and since it had been typically hosted by a band at theirbyrgi, of course Raye and all the band had eagerly joined Kalfr in planning to host one again, the first in apparently over a hundred years.
“Ach, ach,” Gaelfr grumbled, but Raye could scent that he wasn’t really disgruntled, and he nudged her toward the door, his hand slapping lightly at her arse. “But if you feel even a little weary in this, you will come to me. Atonce.”
It was an order Raye might have once tried arguing, but now she only smiled fondly at him, and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Of course I will, Gael,” she murmured. “Thank you.”
