Page 37 of The Orc's Wife

I just nodded, waiting for them to introduce themselves. But the blonde wasn’t done speaking.

“You know, she killed Claudia yesterday. After Urgan had claimed you, she was so angry. She was throwing stuff. Throwing food around. And when Claudia started cleaning up, she just walked up and – crack! – she broke her neck.”

The blonde started giggling nervously, muffled, gasping sounds of distress that finally breached through my wretched numbness. She was terrified of Urzulah, I could tell. So much that she was becoming sick in body and in mind.

The brunette hugged her more tightly and whispered to me: “I’m Laya, and this is Nasturtia. We call her Nat. She’ll be fine in a minute, after she calms down. You will, won’t you, Nat?” she asked, almost pleadingly. I sympathized with her helplessness. There was only one thing that could help Nat, it seemed: being away from Urzulah.

And that wasn’t happening.

Unless I did something.

In my hurt and the overwhelming detachment, the spark of my old passion burned hot like a star. I had dreamed of ending the orc rule once. I had dreamed of coming to the capital and organizing a human rebellion.

And then, I met Urgan.

I hugged myself, slowly starting to rock back and forth with the pain that was now back, filling my chest with knives.

Urgan didn’t want me. I hadn’t been good enough for him.

“Why are you sad?” Nat asked me, disentangling herself from Laya’s embrace. “You’re alive, aren’t you?”

I knew it sounded petulant and childish, but I said it anyway: “I’d rather be dead after what Urgan did.”

Nat looked puzzled, but Laya gasped softly.

“She doesn’t know.”

Nat nodded, wringing her hands. I noticed she had flaky, red marks there, probably from rubbing her skin so much.

“He saved you, silly,” Laya said. “As soon as you were led away, he was accused of betrayal and sentenced to death. They said he had been plotting to free human slaves… If you had been there with him, you’d have been dead now. Or… suffering.”

Nat shivered, and Laya rubbed her shoulders, making more shushing sounds.

And I couldn’t understand what they had just said. Urgan accused?

He had saved me?

Sentenced… to death?

It was good I couldn’t speak because in that moment I forgot we were supposed to whisper. I would have screamed. Laya must have seen something in my face, because she was now speaking to me, reminding me to be quiet, telling me it was all right, Urgan was alive, they were waiting with the execution until his army returned.

The word bounced in my head like a funeral bell.

Execution.

When Nat and Laya curled up together on one straw bed, I remained sitting, staring at the faint firelight slipping from Urzulah’s bedroom though the crack under the door. I still wasn’t crying, but the wonderful numbness from before was gone for good.

As it turned out, there was something worse than being rejected and brokenhearted. It was the certainty that someone you loved was suffering and getting ready for death. The inability to be there for him. The helplessness of being unable to save him.

And then, there was the hope, making it all so much worse. The hope that somehow, I could save him.

He was still alive. I was alive. The worst hadn’t happened yet.

When the firelight was distinguished as the fire in Urzulah’s fireplace died out, I was sitting in complete darkness and biting my fingernails. Finally, I could understand Urzulah’s words. She didn’t expect Urgan to be screaming her name in passion. She believed she was going to torture him herself.

Which meant, she would get to see him. And I could use that. I didn’t yet know how, but there had to be a way.

I was sitting there, my body going numb from exhaustion and sitting too still. I was plotting.

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