Page 47 of His Orc Lady

“Funny,” Vark comments. “My first suggestion would be to tie him up and throw him in a dungeon for a day or two so he comes to his senses.”

“No,” I yelp, a touch too loudly. “No one will be exiling Owen—or tying him up.”

The king’s eyebrows climb up. “All right then, he’s yours to deal with however you like.”

His words add fuel to that small flame of hope that’s been growing steadily for days now. I need to tell Oweneverything, but first, I owe these people—my closest family—the truth. I’ve been hiding it for so long, but now that I’ve confided in Steagor and Poppy, then Owen, the story should be less painful to revisit.

At Steagor’s encouraging nod, I launch into my tale, beginning right where I did with Owen. Steagor might think he knows the full truth, but he doesn’t, and he hangs on my every word, the same as Vark, Gorvor, and Dawn. I keep the story short, though, because they—with the exception of Dawn—lived at the palace, and they know about my parents.

By the time I’m done, Dawn’s big hazel eyes are shiny with tears, and Gorvor is staring at me, clearly aghast. Vark stands and paces away from me, then back again, his long legs carrying him this way and that around the room.

“How did I not notice?” Gorvor’s voice comes out hoarse, barely audible. “Mara, I’m so sorry. I should have done more. I should have helped you with your mother before it was too late.”

I release a long, shaking breath. “It wasn’t on you, Gorvor. You were dealing with other things back then, important things that ended up saving half our clan, remember? You were trying to prevent your godsdamned father from ruining everyone.”

“Still.” He shakes his head. “I had no idea you’d become so afraid of the outside world. And this is why you haven’t told Owen he’s your mate yet? You’re afraid he won’t like that and might leave you here?”

“Aye.”

Vark stomps closer, takes my hand, and pulls me to my feet. “I’m sorry, too, for my part. You were always a friend to me and to my Hazel, and I haven’t been paying enough attention.” He wraps me in a tight hug. “If you ever want to revisit that idea I had earlier, let me know.”

I pat him on the back. “Thank you, but I don’t think it’ll be necessary. He’s a good man, you know.”

“I’d love to have you both over for dinner,” Dawn says. “Once you’ve, ah, settled in a bit.”

Gorvor is still staring at me, his expression grave. “Would you like help? In going outside again, I mean.”

My first impulse is to deny him. My muscles lock up at the thought of having to step under the open sky again. But I also want to see what Owen’s life is like outside of these earthen walls. It hardly seems fair that he should completely leave his family and profession just to stay here with me. Besides, he’s human—he needs the sunlight, as the human women of the clan have explained to us.

“I might,” I hedge finally. “But I do need to talk to Owen first.”

“Of course.” Dawn pats her mate’s cheek as if to calm him. “We’ll let you take things at your own pace. But we’re here if you need us.”

“We all are,” Steagor adds.

I pour myself another cup of tea and settle back in my chair. “That’s all I have to share. Forgive me for taking over our meeting about Ozork.”

Vark sits again and frowns at Gorvor. “Whereishe? I thought he’d be here, given that this concerns him.”

Gorvor sends me one last thoughtful look, then lets out a sigh. “Aye, he thought differently. He said you all needed an opportunity to reject his proposal without him being in the room. So I sent him off to Torren’s to commission himself a seal worthy of a duke.”

“Why would we reject the idea?” Steagor asks, his dark eyebrows drawing together. “It’s a good one, and it solves his problem.”

Dawn smiles softly at the king. “See? I told you both they’d be delighted.” She gets up from his lap, dusts off her skirts, takes the chair next to Gorvor, and pulls a ledger closer to her on the desk. “Now, we should plan?—”

“A moment, please.” Gorvor places his hand gently on top of hers to stop her. “They need to choose for themselves.”

Choose what?

I glance at Vark, but he seems just as confused. Steagor leans back, crossing his massive arms over his chest, waiting for the king’s explanation.

“Besides Ozork, the three of you have been my closest friends over the years,” Gorvor begins. “My family, when the rest of my blood turned their backs on me. My counselors, my support.”

I hadn’t thought of it that way. But Gorvor had lost his family, too, maybe even before we left the old kingdom. His father had abused and nearly killed him, his mother refused to even speak to him, and his younger brother…

Well, Charan might have changed his tune in the recent years, especially since his cronies had been the source of the attack on Dawn when she first arrived at the Hill, but that doesn’t mean they’ve suddenly become close again.

Gorvor grips Dawn’s hand tighter, and she shuffles her chair closer to his, no doubt feeling his distress. Something warm blooms in my chest at the sight of them. She has become his family—and gave him a son they both love dearly.

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