Page 28 of The Orc's Wife

Una described Urzulah’s visit in quick, detached words, turning the bowl in her hands nervously. When she finished, Urgan brought his hand to her neck and gently stroked the red skin.

“She’ll pay for it,” he said quietly.

Una nodded once, her hands clasped around the bowl now.

“I know.”

Urgan looked at her food. Grain boiled with meat and vegetables. The bowl was almost full.

“Wait for me. I’ll take care of you,” he said, trapping the guilt and rage inside for now. She needed him, and this time, she had suffered through his fault, not hers.

And whatever Oriana said, she was right. He needed to make it up to Una.

He washed his hands and quickly plunged into the bathtub, washing the sweat and exhaustion of the busy day and night off himself. When he returned, Una was sitting in the same spot, still not having touched the food.

Urgan put on a loose shirt and sat down by her side, his skin still damp from the bath. He took the bowl and spoon out of her hands and sniffed the food. His own stomach growled, but he ignored it. He would eat later.

Now, he was slowly feeding Una, putting spoonful after spoonful into her mouth. They were sitting in silence, and she was eating from his hand like an obedient pet. Urgan thought he would enjoy it, but the woman by his side, so placable and silent, wasn’t like his Una at all.

When the last morsel of food disappeared in her mouth, and she drank deeply from her cup of wine, Urgan picked Una up and sat her in his lap.

She was avoiding his eyes. Not a good sign.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Are you angry with me? You have every right to.”

Una shook her head once. He waited in silence until she finally sighed deeply and looked at him straight.

“Why you not tell me your mother died in childbirth?”

Urgan held her closer to himself, feeling the ache of old scars at her words. But those scars had healed. He could speak about it calmly, albeit with sadness.

“Because this hasn’t come up yet in our conversations.”

Una shook her head, her eyes now fierce. Urgan almost purred at the familiar fire in her eyes. Even if directed at him, it was delightful.

“But it come up! It did,” she hissed, poking him in the chest. “When I afraid of mating and you say, our races compatible to mate and breed. But your mother die in childbirth. So how this compatible?”

Urgan shook his head.

“I know what it looks like, but my mother didn’t die because she was carrying an orc child. She had an illness which caused her to be weak and gave her pain when she moved too much. Oriana prepared her a regimen to help her get stronger, but my mother refused. That was why she died. If she had been carrying a human child, she might have died as well.”

Una stared at him for a moment, taking in his words. Urgan was watching her calmly. She was strong enough, he had seen it from the start. And even if she hadn’t been, Oriana had helped smaller and frailer women bring orc cubs into the world.

What he had told Una was true: he believed she could carry and birth his cubs. No harm would come to her through this.

“What’s Oriana’s regimen?” Una asked finally, her body softening against him.

Urgan was tracing circles on her naked back, reveling in the softness of her skin.

“She will train you to get stronger. And she has some oils that she uses for softening the body to open it for the baby to come out. And some herbal concoctions… I don’t know all the details, but I know one thing: all mixed couples in the capital have been using her regimen ever since I was born. In that time, not one mother or child died. Oriana is also a midwife.”

Una gasped in awe.

“This is… wonderful. Not one woman died.” She frowned, watching him. After a moment of hesitation, she asked: “So… your mother not listen to Oriana and that’s why she died?”

Urgan sighed and shook his head.

“That’s what Oriana says. I don’t know. But I know one thing: I didn’t make you my mate so you would die. I did it knowing that I could take good care of you. And I regret that I failed today.”

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