"One more minute," he said.
The yard was chaos.
Mab stood near the stable doors, wrapped in her gray dress and her mended stockings and her cracked leather belt, andwatched thirty orc warriors prepare for a three-day mountain crossing.
Horses stamped and snorted, their breath fogging in the cold air. Sturdy mountain ponies with shaggy coats stood in a line while warriors loaded them with supplies. The salt pork and flour from the stores. Rolled blankets and tents. Weapons wrapped in oiled cloth.
And in the center of the yard was Varek.
This was the first time she'd seen him like this, in command, surrounded by men who looked at him with respect. He moved through the chaos like it organized itself around him. A word here, a gesture there. A warrior would approach with a question and Varek would answer without breaking stride, his voice carrying across the yard in short, certain fragments.
Mab watched from the stable doorway and tried to reconcile this man with the one who had taken her apart so thoroughly yesterday and then held her through the night. The same hands. The same voice. But out here, he was someone else entirely. Someone who belonged to the world rather than to her.
"He's showing off."
Mab turned. Drogga had appeared beside her, his arms full of saddlebags, his grin wide enough to show his tusks.
"He's not," Mab said.
"He is." Drogga shifted the bags to one arm and gestured toward the yard with the other. "He wants you to see him being a war-leader. Wants you to know what you're getting."
"I already know what I'm getting."
Drogga's grin sharpened. "Do you?"
Mab felt the heat climb her neck as Drogga laughed.
"What about you?" Mab said, too quickly. "Do you know what you're getting?"
He hefted the saddlebags again and looked thoughtful. "A sister, I suppose."
The word hit her before she could brace for it.
Sister.
"I meant the dog," she said quickly.
Drogga blinked. "What dog?"
"The brown bitch from the gate post. She had puppies. Five of them." Mab kept her voice level. "Varek said we could bring them. He also said you'd be carrying them."
Drogga's expression cycled through several stages. Confusion. Dawning horror. A glance toward Varek across the yard, who was very deliberately not looking in their direction.
"Five puppies."
"And the mother."
"Five puppies and the mother."
"Annie doesn't want to leave them."
Drogga's eyebrows rose. "Fine. I'll figure something out. We've got a supply cart for the heavier goods. She can ride there with the puppies, bedded down in blankets. Annie can sit with her and keep her calm."
"You don't mind?"
"Mind?" Drogga looked at her like she'd said something absurd. "A loyal dog is worth her weight in gold. And Annie needs something to care for. Something that needs her."
Mab thought about Annie in the stable, crouched three feet from a dog who expected nothing but cruelty. About Tibbs with his mother's name-disc hidden in his pocket, the only thing he'd saved from a life that hadn't saved him.
