Page 15 of Tryggred By the Orc

Ebennearly dropped the pestle he’d been holding —Tryggrwashere— but somehow he caught it again, and set it down with a clatter. “Oh,” he croaked, and he couldn’t help his inhale, dragging in the sweet, stunning scent swarming through the air. “I—Idid rest.Alot.”

Tryggrcocked a brow, as a wry smile pulled at his mouth. “Thingabout resting, though,” he said, “is that you gotta keep doing it,Ka-esh.”

Hisvoice was mild, butEbencould still feel the faint twinge of reprimand beneath it, and he couldn’t suppress his reflexive wince, or his fervent, awkward nod.WhileTryggrjust kept looking at him, shifting on his feet, something moving in his eyes thatEbencouldn’t at all read.

“Healingall right, though?”Tryggrasked now, a little gruff. “An’ you haven’t gone back for any more ruts or lashings, have you?”

Ebenwinced again, and gripped his shaky, sweaty hands at the solid wood of the workbench. “N-no,” he gulped. “N-not yet.”

Andwait, why had he said that, it sounded like he wasplanningto go back to thedýflissa— was he? — and he shook his head, opened his mouth.Butnothing came out, andTryggr’seyes shifted again, his arms smoothly folding over his chest.

“Well, take it easy in there next time, ach?” he said coolly. “Notmuch relief if it brings you real harm, is it?An’ keeps you running back for more?”

Eben’swince felt like a flinch this time, and he couldn’t help his reflexive glance downwards, towardTryggr’slegs.BecauseEfterarhad said he’d torn a ligament fighting in the arena, hadn’t he?Andyes, yes,Tryggrwas clearly favouring his left knee, betraying a faint hiss as he again shifted on his feet.

“M-mayhapIcould say the — the same,”Eben’shoarse voice stammered. “Aboutthe — the arena.”

Andcurse him,cursehim, because that was disbelief flaring acrossTryggr’seyes, followed by a sudden, dark disapproval. “Notthe same,Ka-esh,” he snapped. “Thearena’s part of myjob.Wetrain to keep kin like youKa-eshsafe.Tohelpyou.”

Oh.Partof his job, helping orcs likeEben.Weakorcs,Tryggrmeant, foolish orcs, orcs who got themselves needlessly injuredin thedýflissa, and therefore required impromptu feedings for their health.Andof course it didn’t mean anything, it had never meant anything,Ebenhad been dreaming, delirious,never trust aSkai…

“Iknow,” he finally whispered, his voice cracking, his prickling eyes dropping to the workbench, to the mess of herbs he’d somehow made upon it. “Iam s-sorry, sir.”

Therewas a moment’s brief, horrible silence, during whichEben’slip began badly quivering, betraying him, no, no, no.Andhe was about to abandon it all, to rush pastTryggrto the door, when something grasped his arm.Something— oh.Tryggr’shand.

Eben’sfearful eyes darted up, blinking at whereTryggrwas grimacing, and running his other hand against his hair. “Noneed to apologize,Ka-esh,” he said, a little rushed. “Didn’tmean to snap at you.It’sjust” — he grimaced again, shook his head — “Ibusted this knee in there the other day, and it’s making me ornery, ach?Bosstook me off duty scouting, and he’s had me resting and doing rubbish jobs ever since.Saysstarting tomorrow, he’s putting me to work helping his woman in thesculleryinstead.Doinglaundryand shit.”

Wait.Amidstall this,Ebenhad almost entirely forgotten aboutAlmaand her plight — and she hadn’t shown up in the sickroom all day, had she?Wasthat because — she’d gone to work in the scullery?AndDrafliwas now sendingTryggrtohelpher?Doinglaundry?!

“IsAlma— well?”Ebenasked, his voice a croak. “Wellenough to be — doing laundry?”

TryggrshotEbena look he couldn’t all read, and then abruptly released his grip onEben’sarm. “Guessso,” he said, without enthusiasm. “ThoughIs’poseI’llbe the one to keep an eye on her again to make sure, ach?”

Right.Becausethat wasTryggr’sjob, and that was all.Keepingweak kin safe.Tothe point whereDraflihad ordered him to do it, and…

“AndDraflistill truly wishes to… helpAlma?”Ebenasked, before he could stop it. “Andhave her… stay?”

Histired brain was belatedly dredging up the last he’d heard about this, whenTryggrhad suggested thatDraflimight makeAlmaan offer, to keep her close and safe.AndTryggrtwitched a nod, though something sharp and strangely bitter flared through his scent, and his eyes shifted pastEben, narrowing on the wall behind his head.

“Ach,Bossmade her the offer,”Tryggrsaid flatly. “Gother a room of her own in theGriskwing, gave her plenty of goods and credits — and then he took her to bed with him and his mate, too.Coveredher all over with their scents, made sure she found joy in it.”

Wait.Truly?Draflihad takenAlmatobed?Withhim,andBaldr?Afterhe’d tried tokillher?

ButTryggr’sface looked a little mulish, now, his nod decisive and firm.Andblinking at him,Eben’slonging was suddenly far too close, surging hard in his belly.Becausewhat would it be like, to have a fierce, handsomeSkaiwatching over you, giving you gifts, taking you to bed, making sure you found joy in it…

Tryggrwas fully frowning now, his claws tapping at his biceps, his scent even sharper than before.Andtoo lateEbenrealized he was just foolishly standing there staring, and reeking of hunger, or perhaps even jealousy.

“But,” he croaked, before he even caught it, “Draflistill does not even…likeAlma, ach?Ortruly want her, in his bed, with his mate?Notafter how she has come between him andBaldr, with the scent-bond?”

ButTryggr’sfrown only deepened, and he jerked a dismissive-looking shrug. “Ithasn’t been the best start,Iken,”he said flatly. “ButI’mtold the woman’s sweet and loyal, and a hard worker — and eager to please and obey in bed, too.Alljust asSkailike best, ach?Soif she can keep it up, showBossshe’s worth his time,Iken he’ll come around.”

Oh.Oh.Sweet, and loyal.Ahard worker.Eagerto please and obey in bed.Alljust asSkailike best…

Eben’sheart was erratically pounding again, his eyes still frozen onTryggr’sface.OnwhereTryggr’sfrown twisted, tightened, as he jerked a swift, limping step backwards. “Well, glad you’re feeling better,Ka-esh,” he said. “Bestof luck with — not sleeping,Is’pose.”

Withthat, he spun and strode for the door, his shoulders very straight, his steps lurching with his limp.Andit wasn’t until he’d vanished into the corridor thatEbenrealized it, recognized part of what had held him so caught, so transfixed, so foolish, that entire time.

Tryggrhadn’t borne any other fresh scents.Noteven after so many days, after he’d returned to the arena.

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