Page 11 of The Orc's Wife

“I’m tired,” I said, trying to sound snotty and entitled. “Is there any place where we could stop and drink something on our way back? You’ll drink with me because I hate drinking alone.”

Mina gave me a sly look, and then giggled.

“Perfect. Yes, there’s an outdoor tavern. A lady shouldn’t go inside a place of drink, but it’s respectable to drink outside.”

I shrugged and let her lead the way. We had to cross the street again, but the traffic was slower now, so it wasn’t as terrifying. A few women were walking along the street with buckets, pouring water on top of the spots where horse droppings had been freshly cleaned away.

I put a hand on Mina’s shoulder.

“Why is everyone cleaning everything?” I asked with a frown.

It was strange. The city was bizarrely clean, not a speck of dirt on the road and the walls, no trash, not even fallen leaves. It was a city, after all, where so many orcs and people were living close together. Such masses of living creatures were bound to produce a lot of dirt, but there was none to be seen.

“Because orcs hate bad smells,” Mina said with a sniff of contempt. “Those delicate noses of theirs can’t bear the stench of rotting trash or horse dung. Why, when it’s the time to fertilize the fields, orcs will never go out there. They stick to the city walls or go to the woods or the lakes, but never step near the fields.”

I nodded, remembering the conversation I had had with Urgan and his men when we were traveling to the city. They really hated bad odors. A pang of pain pierced my chest when I remembered Zadran and Kluga who had joked about the smell of wet dogs and rotting fish.

They were dead now. Killed by the ragghits the Imperator had secretly sent to hunt Urgan.

I shook my head, chasing the thoughts away to focus on the present. We were almost to the tavern now, and I welcomed the thought of rest and drink.

The outside tavern consisted of a few long but narrow tables and sturdy benches. I sat down, eyes squinting in the sunlight, Mina’s basket next to me. She went inside the dark building to get our drinks, and I was waiting and sweating.

After riding through the cool woods and sleeping by the fire or wrapped up in Urgan’s body heat in the cold nights, I found this sudden bout of warm weather in the fall surprising and so very uncomfortable.

I unbuttoned a few top buttons of my dress and rolled up my sleeves, the way I’d do in my village, working in the fields on an especially hot day. It barely even helped, but at least a cool breeze was now blowing over my mating mark. The wound was at the itching stage of healing, and it took all of my willpower not to scratch it.

The sun was beating down on my head now, and I looked around dazedly. I started. A man was standing opposite me, just behind another table, and sneering at me. He was bald but didn’t look old. His strong arms, a powerful build, and simple, dirty clothes spoke of hard work, probably in the fields.

“What are you looking at?” I asked, grumpy from the heat, impatient for Mina to return.

The man whistled, one long, ominous note, and stepped over to me. I stood up, squaring my shoulders to face him. I didn’t like the look on his face.

“I am looking at an orc’s whore,” he said, his voice pleasant despite his sneer. For a moment, I couldn’t understand what he was saying. The heat had turned my mind into mush, and his polite voice belied his words. That was why I was just standing there like a wooden doll, staring dumbly at the man who had just insulted me in the worst way possible.

I should have gone inside the tavern and found Mina. Or run back into the palace.

I should have realized what the whistle meant.

“Do you know what we do with whores like you here?” he asked, that voice still pleasant, although an edge was creeping into it. “Whores who scorn proper men and lie with beasts deserve the worst. You deserve to have your face pushed into the mud, your clothes stripped from you, and your back whipped until you beg for death.”

Something switched in my head, realization finally sinking in. This man was threatening me now. I was trapped between the bench and the table, and he was standing on one open side, blocking my escape. I started shuffling to the other end… where another man was standing.

Oh no.

Thatwas what the whistle had meant.

“Mina!” I screamed, looking wildly around. Oh no. Two more men were coming in my direction, dressed like the two who were blocking my way now, in simple field workers’ garb. “Mina!”

She emerged from the doorway, two pewter cups in her hands. When she saw what was happening, she dropped them on the ground and took off running. I was watching her back, my mouth hanging open, until the bald man reached for my throat. His hand wrapped loosely around it, as if in a caress, but the gesture still paralyzed me with terror.

I gulped, panic coursing through me. How was I supposed to run now, when I was surrounded?

And there was no one close to us, I realized. Only minutes before, the street had been bustling. Now, it was empty. It was as if the passers-by had seen what was happening and cleared away not to bear witness.

There was no one to help me.

“Let me go,” I pleaded, looking straight into the bald man’s eyes. “When he finds out that you did anything to me, he will rip you apart and…”

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