Page 15 of Orc's Forbidden Claim

“Home? Your home?” I ask and he nods. “Who are you?”

“I am Piada,” he says. “And you?”

“I’m Wren, this is Saylor,” Wren answers for both of us, and he nods.

“Good. We must travel. Can you walk?”

“Not with our feet bound like this,” Wren snaps, raising her feet to show off the ropes binding her ankles.

Piada pulls a knife from his belt, moves in closer, and slices the ropes free. A moment later he does mine. Blood rushes painfully back into my feet. The pins and needles feeling is so strong and so painful that I whimper. I clench my fists and teeth to keep myself from doing it again. My hands are still bound so I can’t rub them to ease the discomfort which is annoying and frustrating.

“Walk?” Piada asks.

“Do we have a choice?” Wren asks.

“Why do you want us?” I ask.

“Orders,” Piada says with a shrug.

He reaches out and grabs Wren by her bound wrists and pulls her to her feet. She wobbles and he places a hand on her arm, assisting until she is steady. Then he comes to me and does the same. I stomp my feet several times to get the blood flowing more easily. Finally, the unpleasant sensations ease up.

“It’s easier with our wrists free too. We might fall otherwise,” Wren says, holding her wrists up in front of him.

Piada stares for a long time then grunts and cuts the binds on our wrists too. He barks orders at the others, and they all move to obey. Except the one who groped us. He glares at Piada, crossing his arms over his chest. He barks in their gutturallanguage. Piada stops what he is doing, slowly turning to look at him. He walks over to the defiant Urr’ki who is a head taller than him.

Piada tilts his head back and says something. He doesn’t raise his voice, if anything it sounds like a harsh whisper. The defiant one does raise his voice, throwing his hands up in the air and waving them wildly around, ending with one hand pointing at me. I look over at Wren who is watching the interchange.

“This is bad,” I whisper in Common.

“Maybe not,” she says in the same. “Watch.”

Her eyes aren’t on the conflict now, she’s looking at the others. It only takes me one look to see that they are siding with Piada. They don’t do anything overt to give it away, but it’s in their positioning and in where they’re looking. All of them have their eyes on the defiant one and their eyes are not friendly.

I don’t know if I would have been able to judge any Urr’ki’s eyes as friendly or unfriendly before Khiara. But I’ve been with him enough now to feel confident in my estimation of their feelings. They don’t like the defiant one.

Piada says something, still in that harsh whisper. The other raises his voice so loud it echoes off the stone walls. The other Urr’ki move their hands to their weapons, waiting for a signal. Piada takes a step back from the defiant one. He tilts his head to the side and then says something in a normal tone of voice.

The defiant one opens his mouth in what looks like it is going to be a smart remark, but it is then that he sees the others. He may be stupid and a boor, but he’s smart enough to read the room and realize he’s severely outnumbered. He snaps his mouth shut and the defiance drains out of him in an instant.

Piada nods then barks orders. The Urr’ki move, three taking up positions behind us, three in front. In front of those, Piada and the defiant one take the lead. Piada puts his hand on the defiant one’s back and pushes him ahead, clearly intending him to take point.

“It could be worse,” I say to Wren, sticking to Common because I’m pretty sure the Urr’ki don’t understand our language.

“They’ll come for us. All we have to do is survive and slow them down if possible.”

I bite my lip and nod. Slow them down. Lovely. How do we do that? A shove in the back forces me into motion. I walk slowly but only a few steps after that and one of the guards pushes until I speed up. I glance at Wren. She has her head held high, imperious. Looking at her you’d never guess she was in the same shitty situation I am. Captured and being led towards certain doom. She exudes calm and control as if she is walking through a crowd of adoring admirers.

Jealousy rises. I’ve always been jealous of her, though I seldom admit it. Not even to myself. All of this has always come so easily to her. She has this naturally impervious armor that nothing penetrates. As one of her closest friends, not her best, that was always Ziva, but I was and am close, I know it’s not true that it doesn’t bother her. But her ability tolooklike it doesn’t is what I’m jealous of.

I have worked all my life to learn to school my face. To not show the hurt at the cutting words. The snide remarks. The sharp tongues of those who view us as no more than objects. To the masses, we were never human, not like them. We were things. Things for them to admire or to destroy as the whims of fancymight dictate and gods only know which way it might go at any moment.

Wren and Ziva, they walked through it and never let anyone outside see that it bothered them. Of course, in private all of us would talk about it. We would cry, love, and support each other. But my problem has always been I’m no good at lying. My face always gives it away.

This is stupid. Why am I chewing on the past? How do I slow our captors down? Or…

No. I can’t do that. What if I get caught? I dare to dart a glance around, taking in all the captors. None of them seem to be paying particular attention to us. We’re marching and that’s all they appear to care about. Can I? Maybe…

One more quick glance. Darting eyes, nerves rattling like a thousand ringing alarms but no, they’re all focused on marching. Trying to hide what I’m doing I slip a hand under my blouse, finding the ring in my belly button. I grasp it between thumb and forefinger, trying to loosen it with only one hand.

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