Svein was watching her again, his sharp tooth biting his lip, as if maybe he expected her to refuse to fetch the wood, too — and Raye swallowed her sigh, and waved him toward the door. “Will you help me bring it in, love?” she asked, as steadily as she could. “Start the fire for supper?”
Svein’s eyes lit up again, and he dashed over to the door, and waited while Raye unbarred it. And together, they brought in every last stick of wood, first piling it up high beside the fireplace, and then lighting the fire together. And if nothing else, reminding Svein how to start the fire was at least a distraction, a thread of tenuous reassurance. He was still here. Gaelfr hadn’t taken him away, not yet.
But Raye still felt jumpy, uneasy, out of sorts, even once the fire began merrily crackling in the grate, and she held out her hands toward it, feeling its wonderful billowing warmth. And as the heat rolled over her, she had to blink back more stinging wetness behind her eyes. Gods, what had become of her, that she was weeping over a fire? Over having help from the dangerous enemy orc who had ruined her life?
She couldn’t stop glancing over her shoulder toward the door, either, as if waiting for Gaelfr to return — and she knew Svein was waiting too, his nostrils frequently flaring. “He won’t leave us again already, will he, Mama?” he asked. “After he promised?”
Raye almost couldn’t bear the doubt in Svein’s eyes, the glimmer of genuine fear. And again, she should have taken the opportunity to stop this. Should have told Svein that Gaelfr couldn’t be trusted, Gaelfr was a stranger, an enemy, he’d ruined her life…
“No, love,” she said, through her thick throat. “I don’t think he’ll leave yet.”
The flash of joy in Svein’s eyes was both relief and pain, enough that Raye almost hoped she was wrong. That Gaelfr would disappear out of their lives forever, and never come back.
But when Svein finally yelped and leapt up, racing toward the window again, something leapt in Raye’s belly, too. Gaelfr had returned, just like he’d said he would. And this time — Raye let out a shaky breath — he was carrying multiple dead hares with one hand, his other hand’s claws dripping bright red blood.
He didn’t pretend not to see them at the window this time, and curtly nodded toward them. “I should welcome your help with these, son,” he called, his deep voice carrying through the air. “Shall you come?”
Svein squealed with excitement and dashed toward the door, bouncing up and down as he waited for Raye to open it. And thenhe rushed over to Gaelfr in the garden, peppering him with an eager volley of questions. Where had he gotten the hares? How had he found so many? Had he used his claws to catch them?
Raye followed Svein out, and hovered a slight distance away with her arms crossed, listening as Gaelfr answered Svein’s questions without any sign of hesitation. Telling him how he’d scented for the hares, and tracked them, and used his claws to cut their throats. And once Gaelfr had set the hares down on the large flat stone Raye used for dressing, Gaelfr showed Svein how to use his claws to skin the hares, too. A messy business that ought to have turned Raye’s stomach, but instead, she just kept standing there watching, her heart thumping in her chest. What the hell was she doing, she still shouldn’t be allowing this, condoning this…
“You’re eating raw meat?” Svein exclaimed now, staring with mingled awe and envy as Gaelfr tossed several bloody bits of hare into his mouth. “But — Mama says that’s dangerous!”
He shot a guilty glance over at Raye, and for the first time in this, Gaelfr spared an inscrutable glance toward her, too. “Ach, raw meat is dangerous for humans,” he told Svein. “But not for orcs, you ken. We oft eat this, and it brings us no harm.”
Really? Raye’s thoughts flashed backwards again, to the memories of how Kalfr had often hunted game for her, too. But he’d never mentioned anything about eating it raw, had he? Or eaten any raw meat in front of her? Why hadn’t he at least let her know afterwards, for Svein’s sake?
But then again — her eyes briefly closed — was that something he might have tried to tell her, if she’d listened? Something he might have written in one of the many letters she’d burned?
If Raye wasn’t mistaken, that was another flicker of judgement, of disapproval, in Gaelfr’s glance up toward her. Whirling up more memories, now of all the times Svein hadwanted to eat raw meat, and all the times she’d refused. She’d helped keep her son hungry.I should never have dreamt he could find worse than you.
“I’ll go douse the fire, then,” she said, turning away, because gods, she was about to start weeping again. And she needed to escape, even for a moment, even if it meant leaving Svein alone with this horrible orc.
“No need, woman,” came Gaelfr’s voice, in a tone Raye couldn’t read. “It is yet good for our son to eat cooked food. And good for you, also.”
When Raye glanced backwards, Gaelfr’s eyes were flinty on hers, as if he had every right to call Sveintheirson, and to decide what was good for Raye to eat. And as if he had the right to look her up and down like that, and she still wanted to weep, to yell, to —
“This hare is now ready, woman,” Gaelfr continued, with a nod toward where he’d already cut a pile of meat into strips. “I should be grateful if you would help cook it for us.”
I should be grateful. The false kindness was almost worse than the orders, and Raye bit back her scoff — or maybe her sob — as she spun toward the cottage, and went inside to fetch a pan. And though she didn’t meet Gaelfr’s eyes when she stalked back out again, she could feel the weight of his gaze as he loaded up her pan with meat, and then dismissed her with a flick of his bloody claws.
But that was enough to make Raye hesitate again, her eyes darting toward where Svein was intently cutting up his own meat with his claws. “It’s not — safe,” she said, her voice harsh. “For Svein to be out here like this.”
There was an instant’s silence, a slump of Svein’s shoulders — and then a deep harrumph from Gaelfr beside him. “Our son is safe with me, woman,” he said flatly. “There are no otherhumans within scenting distance, and I shall always be scenting for this.”
He sounded very certain, and his face looked certain too, his jaw set, his brows raised, his eyes defiant on hers. “Svein can help me with the scenting, also,” Gaelfr added, softer. “It shall be good practice, ach, my son?”
My son. It again grated in Raye’s gut, but another glance at Svein found him looking thoroughly delighted by this plan, his nose already sniffing at the air. And he’d moved closer to Gaelfr, too, his body tucking against his side, while Gaelfr settled a hand against his shoulder.
The truth of it lodged in Raye’s throat, because they even looked like they belonged together, didn’t they? Their grey skin, their tall pointed ears, their claws, that same stubborn set to their mouths. As if… as if Svein trulywasGaelfr’s son. As if he’d been Gaelfr’s son, all this time. As if, despite all Raye’s desperate efforts, Svein would have been utterly thrilled for orcs to turn up, and steal him away from her, forever.
And Gaelfr could still do that, the instant Raye’s back was turned. He could still drag Svein away to Orc Mountain, where Raye would never see him again. This was still risky, stupid, horribly dangerous —
“Woman,” came Gaelfr’s voice, sharp with impatience. “If I wished to steal our son away, I would have already done this. But I did not, and Ishallnot, for” — his voice deepened — “I shouldneverbe so cruel as to part him from his kin thus!”
I should never be so cruel. It was yet another strike, another furious condemnation, and Raye’s only distant refuge was Svein’s hopeful little smile toward her. Not judging her, not even seeing her own actions in Gaelfr’s words. Her own cruelty. Her own failures.
It was all Raye could do to nod and turn back to the cottage without stumbling, and shove her way inside. Her eyes weresmarting, her hands shaking as she thrust down the pan of meat on the table, as the grief and fury and regret raged together in her gut. She’d failed. She’dfailed.
