Page 47 of The Orc's Wife

But as soon as all our work was done, I sat down on the floor, staring into the fire and shaking.

Urgan was dead.

And it was all my fault. If I hadn’t been lying to Urzulah, she wouldn’t have gone to see him. She wouldn’t have killed him. Urgan had died because of my actions.

Laya and Nat were speaking to me, but I couldn’t hear them. No, I didn’t care to hear them. There was nothing they could tell me that could make the black empty pit inside me go away. So I just sat there, unresponsive, until they left me alone.

I had been sitting like that for a long time. The fire died down to embers, and still, I couldn’t shake the hopeless stupor off myself. Even the thought of the child that could be growing inside me, a child I still couldn’t really believe was truly there, wouldn’t pierce the darkness.

I should have been making plans. Setting up protections for myself and my unborn child. Scheming how to hide Urzulah’s death. Thinking how to let Oriana know what had happened.

But my mind didn’t work properly.

Finally, a loud crash jolted me out of the darkness. I looked around wildly. Laya was throwing stuff onto the floor, turning low tables and stools, throwing glass sculptures into the fireplace.

“If someone comes asking about her, we’ll pretend to be cleaning the mess after one of her fits,” she explained, pushing sweaty hair out of her face. “We’ll say she had just stormed off somewhere. It will buy us some time. Enough, hopefully.”

I nodded, staring at her.

And then, I was up on my feet, my lips pulled back in a snarl. I took hold of one of Urzulah’s knickknacks, a metal ornament that looked like a crown, and threw it on the floor with all my might. It gave a satisfying clang and bounced off the floor, hitting the bed.

Laya handed me a beautiful goblet carved from bone, and I threw it, reveling in the dull crack of breaking bone.

Destruction consumed me, and I slipped into a blissful state of deep peace, which felt how I hoped death would feel.

Chapter 15

Urgan

He was floating in murky, dark waters, blissfully unfeeling, almost free. Sinking slowly, he let himself fall, relaxing. Waiting patiently to hit the bottom or dissolve in the water.

But there was a flicker above him, sending sparks of annoyance to his mind. Why wouldn’t they leave him in peace? It flickered, like a will-o’-the-wisp, a small, distorted light, a voice from far away.

It wouldn’t let him go. The flicker of light or sound, or something else entirely, kept pulling at his mind, dragging him up to the surface. Urgan didn’t want to emerge. There was nothing there for him. Una wasn’t there.

At the thought of Una, his numbness broke like ice under a heavy boot. The pain returned, making him mad with sadness and helpless anger. If only he could shake off the chains. He would get to her, even now. He would crawl to her feet.

But the chains held firm.

He was back in the cell, his shoulders hurting so much he opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. His throat was parched, and he didn’t have enough air in his lungs to make a sound. He tried to take a deep breath, but a pain bloomed in his chest. Instead of a scream, a wracking cough came out.

“I know you’re alive. Come on. I’m here to help you,” said a voice. It sounded strange, loud and then suddenly quiet, as if someone was speaking right into his ear and then moving out of his reach.

Urgan cracked one eye open, but he saw nothing in the darkness of his cell. Yet, the air smelled different. Not as stale and disgusting with the stench resulting from his long confinement.

And it moved, the slightest whisper of a breeze caressing his temple. The door to his cell was open. He focused, calling on the last dregs of the iron will that had helped him push through the torture without saying a word. It was still there, his discipline. His hard resolve. Almost extinguished, but it was there.

As he focused his eyes, he finally made out the shape of a woman. Could it be Una? But no, he wouldn’t be fooled twice. She smelled different. Yet, she wasn’t Urzulah.

“I want to help you,” she said again, a tremor in her voice.

His sluggish senses picked up another tang: the sour smell of human fear. She was terrified. So why was she here?

“But I must know first: did you ever rape a human woman?”

He blinked at her, the fog in his mind growing thicker. He couldn’t understand why she was asking him this. Why would he rape anyone? He only needed Una, and he would never hurt her.

“Answer me!”

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