Page 22 of The Widow and the Orcs

Louisablinked her wet eyes atKillik’sface, and attempted to protest — but he clamped his claws tighter against her hand, the pain a distant reassuring whine beneath her skin. “Nomore,” he said flatly. “Ach, you speak and scent just as he did last eve!Iam weary of this, andIhave no wish to tend toyouall day also — and ach,myprick should not grow hard for you after all this, either!Youare a strong, capable, comely woman, so you shall stop this whining and pitying, andlisten!”

Foran instant,Louisacould only stare blankly toward him — wait, was he implying that he might have consideredtendingto her, if he hadn’t already done so toUlfarrall night? — and she didn’t miss the wince on his mouth, his purposeful glance toward the wall beyond her.

“Thereis naught amiss with you,” he repeated, flatter and slower this time, as if he were speaking to a child. “Wolflonged for this.Helonged for you.Andhe only left because he thoughtyouhad no wish forhim!”

Louisagrimaced, swallowed, wiped at her wet eyes.Becausegods, she’d wantedUlfarrso damned much.Inthat moment, she’d wanted him even more than the coin, or the land.Shewanted so desperately to escapeLordScall, forgetLordScall, forever.Andif anything could shoveLordScall’sloathsome ghost out of her life, surely it would beUlfarr.Withhis gentle hands, his sweet scent, his sad wounded eyes…

Buteven the thought madeLouisa’seyes well up again, her head shaking. “OfcourseIwanted him,” she croaked. “AndI’dbe happy to tell him so, but — he surely won’t evenspeakto me again, after all this.”

ButKillikonly scoffed, and rolled his eyes. “Ach, why do you kenIam here?” he drawled. “Tolaze about and pass the time with you?Tokick up a merry lark with you?Ormayhap to make you squeal upon my wolf’srassjaagain?”

Louisa’srelief instantly plummeted, into something damnably like hurt, like shame.OfcourseKillikwouldn’t do such things with her, and she already knew that, didn’t she?Andgods, she would not weep again, not over him, and it took all her willpower to hold her head high, to ignore the painful heat again burning in her cheeks, behind her eyes.Shehad to try.

“Areyou saying you’ll take word back toUlfarrfor me?” she managed, through her constricted throat. “Aletter, perhaps?”

Somethingshifted inKillik’seyes, but then he shrugged, glanced away. “Ach, if you truly wish for this,” he said. “Ifyou choose to write to him, of your own will.Itshall have naught to do with me.”

AndmaybeKillikstill didn’t want it, maybe he’d still rather haveUlfarrall to himself — or maybe he still thoughtLouisadidn’t mean it.Maybehe thought she hadn’t really wanted it, either.

“Iunderstand,”Louisasaid, the determination firm in her voice, in her belly. “OfcourseI’llbe happy to write him.Atonce.”

Shedidn’t wait forKillik’sreply, but instead lurched past him for the writing desk.Whereshe yanked over her quill, and a fresh sheet of paper — and then stared blankly down at it, her hand hovering over the page.Gods, what was she supposed to write?Iwas afraid of you?Youreminded me of my vile dead husband?Oreven more shameful,Idon’t know how to do this anymore?

“Writehim the truth, woman,” cameKillik’slow voice behind her. “Heshall not condemn you for this, andIken it would do you both good.”

Right.Louisanodded, swallowing hard, and then put her quill to the page, and began writing.Makingher letter as clear and heartfelt as she could, despite the way her hand kept trembling on the quill.

Ihad a lovely evening with you, and shall never forget it,she wrote.AndIdeeply regret ifIhurt you or insulted you during our time together.Iwould be honoured if you might be inclined to see me again, but of courseIunderstand and accept whatever decision you might choose to make.

Asshe wrote,Killikkept hovering behind her, blatantly reading every word over her shoulder, and after a baleful glance up toward him,Louisadrew in breath, and wrote out a little more.Explaininghow her past experiences in such matters had not always occurred in a positive light, and how she perhaps hadn’t realized — she had to pause and rub at her prickling face, as the memories burned through her thoughts — how that might carry forward in unexpected or unwelcome ways.

Iam most sorry to have visited my own fears upon you, she wrote, her breaths now heavy enough to flutter the page beneath her.Youshowed me unwarranted patience and generosity, and you deserved far better.Nomatter your decision upon this,Iwish you only the deepest happiness and peace.

Ingratitude,Louisa.

Shewas still blinking hard as she blew the ink dry, and thrust the letter up towardKillik.Towardwhere he was now eyeing it — and her — with distinct, uneasy suspicion. “Avery pretty letter,” he said, clipped. “Ach, are you some sort ofscholar, in secret?Onewho hides indoors and studiesbooksfor fun, and then chatters about them to all you meet?”

Hesounded almost offended, his nose wrinkling with distaste, andLouisablinked at him, and shook her head. “Gods, no, of course not,” she snapped back. “Butit was forced onto me as a child, for writing pretty letters is a major portion of a lord’s wife’s miserable existence.”

Anunmistakable relief passed throughKillik’seyes, and his gaze lingered onLouisa, for an instant too long.Andwith a flick of movement, he produced yet another handkerchief, which he raised to her face, wiping at her hot cheek.

“Ink,” he said, the curtness of his voice at strange odds with his gentle, still-wiping fingers. “Shouldnot wish to leave you walking aboutlookinglike a scholar, then.”

Louisablinked again, her skin tingling beneath the bizarre, quiet carefulness of his touch.Andshe wasn’t moving, or even trying to get away, andKillikwasn’t stopping, either.Hisexpression shifting as his breath slowly exhaled, shuddering against her skin.

“Thisletter shall help,Iken,” he finally said, as he dropped his hand. “Ishall bring you word ofWolf’sanswer.Andalso, asIvowed” — he plucked a jingling bag out of his pocket, and dropped it onto her desk — “your first payment.”

Herfirst payment?Louisastared at it for a moment, uncomprehending — but right, right, the contract had promised twenty percent after the first night, and eighty percent at the end of all ten.AndhadKillikstill counted that as the first night, after all?

ButwhenLouisaopened her mouth to ask,Killikhad already spun around, and stalked for the door.Closingit behind him with a decisive thud, and leaving her sitting there staring after him, still breathing too hard, her heart kicking unevenly in her chest.

Maybethere was still hope.Maybethey could still make this work.Andif nothing else — her shoulders sagged, her breath exhaling —Killikhad given her this.Thepayment.

Sheopened the bag with trembling hands, and counted it all out once, and then again.Andyes, yes, it turned out to be exactly as much asKillikhad promised.Atruly shocking amount of coin, more than she’d seen at once in many, many years.

Itwas enough to prod her back to her feet again, and she washed at the basin, and put on her best day dress.Andthen, after a quick bite of breakfast with her staff and the children, she saddledMay, and headed back into town.Firstto her bankerBycroft, who tookKillik’scoin with palpable confusion, but then informed her it would be enough to cover her staff’s monthly salaries, her debts’ current interest owing, and even a little of the principal, too.AndnextLouisawent to her usual lawyerMatts, and asked him to review a copy ofKillik’scontract — with a few key points removed — and to ensure there were no possible loopholes, or looming legal quagmires.

Butit all seemed sound enough —Killikhad clearly done his research — andLouisaheaded home with a grim, resigned gratefulness.Herstaff were paid.Herproperty was safe, for now.AndifUlfarragreed to come back — and if she could manage to spend the next nine nights with him without panicking — she could still do this.Right?

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