Page 27 of Orc's Mate

This world was much bigger—and more dangerous—than I’d ever realized.

Chapter15

Odik

We left the city behind and flew over the sea.

“Where are the islands?”

“We’ll fly for a bit longer before we see them.”

“They’re far from the city, then. And you said you grow your own food.”

How could I tell her we got by as best we could, that we were a people struggling to survive? We had incredible wealth and not only in the joy we took from living on the island, but from the precious stones we mined in the sea around us and within the land itself. But the one thing we needed; we couldn’t buy.

“I hope you’ll be happy with us,” I said instead of what I should. She’d see and for these final moments, I wanted to hold her and drink in the optimism that rose from her smooth skin. All too soon, I’d have to rip off the sheen and expose her to what the rest of us lived with.

“When I left the fortress, I said goodbye,” she said. “I determined right then to only look forward.”

“You’re very brave.”

“I’m resourceful. I’ve had to be all my life. Zur was good to me. He was the father I needed. And as he grew older, I took care of him like he had me. But he’s gone now.” Her voice hollowed out with pain. “How could she do that to him? He was good and kind, and he never caused anyone harm.” Her body shook as she wept, but she remained silent even in this, as if she’d long since learned not to draw attention.

I tightened my arms around her and murmured soothing words, though I couldn’t tell if they helped. She needed to mourn, and that was often a solitary thing. I’d done the same when I lost my parents during the shayde attack. Then, my people needed me to step in and take his place, not wallow in my sorrow.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said.

“Why?”

“For crying. I should lift my chin and find the strength to live like Zur would’ve wanted.”

“There’s nothing wrong with giving in to your pain.”

“Weeping serves no purpose.” She said it with a thread of strength in her voice.

“Your words or . . .?”

“Zur held me when I was little, and I cried. I did that much too often. But no, he never told me I couldn’t mourn. Others did, however, and their mean words sunk through my skin and latched onto my bones.”

A growl ripped through me. “You’re saying other children mocked you.”

She tensed in my arms, and I wondered if she thought I’d someday reject her like almost everyone else. “Not just children.”

I shook my head, but I knew enough adults who’d behave the same. Sadly, not everyone was eager to extend kindness to others. “Some people are foolish. They make assumptions based on someone’s surface, never looking hard enough to see the core of the person inside.” I rested my chin on the top of her head. “You’re incredibly strong, Eleri. You’d have to be to survive what happened when you were small. Look at you, not allowing those in the village to convict you of a crime you didn’t commit. You left, which was wise. That also took strength.”

“I did what I had to.”

“That’s all we can ever do.”

She was quiet a long moment, perhaps processing my words. “Do you ever cry?”

“I haven’t for such a long time, I’m not sure I remember how.”

“Why not?”

I shrugged. “I’m the caedos of my clan. I need to remain strong for them if not for myself.”

“Zur told me all emotions are equally valid.”

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