Page 27 of Bred By the Orc
They believed the clan and family was the most important structure, and they were loyal and honorable to those they loved.
Loved.
Much of what the orcs believed came down tolove, and I couldn’t deny that was compelling.
When I emerged, sputtering, from the rinse water, Roxanna was speaking. “And have you noticed where you are? This is the chief’s home, Sorcha.”
As she stepped from the tub, I did my best to peer around the simple hut. “I did not know,” I admitted, allowing my sister to wrap me in awarm, dry tartan. “Drakolt said naught when he dropped me off with you.”
“Och, he said plenty,” Roxanna said with a sparkle in her eyes. “You just did not notice. Come sit in front of the fire so I can dry and plait your hair.”
‘Twas comforting to chat with my sister as her leisurely brush strokes relaxed me. I could even forget what was coming. She told me of her journey with Varkaan, and while I wasn’t certain I could forgive the smiling male for his actions, I had to admit Roxanna did not seem to mind them, judging from the way she blushed and changed the subject.
Hmm.
I told her of my time with Drakolt—aye,allof my time with him. Of his plans, and what he explained about Mating, and why he needed this alliance with our father.
“And you are happy to be his Mate?” my sister asked, pinning the small braid atop my head so it framed the rest of my curls. “Ruling here at his side?”
I hesitated. “’Twould be no different than my plans for Laird MacDonald.”
“Oh, I think ‘twill beverydifferent,” Roxanna snorted. “Your Mate will honor and cherish you, for one. If you can come to terms with these strange customs.”
But orcish life wasn’tthatstrange. I liked everything I had seen thus far…except what was coming. The thought of being spread wide in front of the people I was expected to rule was… My breath caught, my cheeks heated. Humiliating, aye, but also…
“I think…” I managed. “I think there might be some merit to orcish customs.”
Roxanna snorted and smacked my shoulder as she stood to fetch a clean chemise. “I thought so. All those nights readingA Harlot’s Guide to the Forbidden and Delightful Artshave turned you deviant. You areexcitedabout tonight, are you not?”
I pressed my lips together, determined not to give her the benefit of an answer, but her laughter told me she understood.
As I lifted my arms to allow her to slide the chemise over my head, the door opened. We both turned, and when Gelma stepped in, I will admit my stomach clenched. In fear or anticipation? Or both.
The wizened female shook her head. “Ye willnae need that, lassie,” she said, hobbling across the room, to where I was slowly rising, clutching the tartan about me.
I could admit that I liked this woman, who reminded me of what a grandmothershouldbe. Although she was stooped, she tipped her headback to hold my gaze as she took my hands, and there was a twinkle in those deep black pools.
“Sorcha, my daughter, tonight ye will become a queen. A chief’s Mate, and the gods have told me ye will have a long and happy life here among the Bladesedge Clan.”
I squeezed her hand, grateful for the support, even if ‘twas nonsense. “Thank you, Gelma. But the gods have told you many things, aye?”
“Aye, lassie.” Her eyes sparkled with humor. “Tonight ye will conceive a son, who will unite our clan with the Tarberts. More importantly, he will lead the Bladesedge Clan after ye and Drakolt go to yer rests. Our people will be safe and prosperous for decades to come.”
In that moment, I realized this was all I needed to hear. That my future was safe and happy. If I could embrace it.
“I…” I swallowed, took a deep breath, and forced myself to say the words. “I am scared.”
Gelma’s smile turned soft. “Dinnae be. Drakolt might be a male, but he isnae a complete idiot. Trust him.”
Trust him.
My eyes widened. “I do.”
As the old woman nodded in satisfaction, Roxanna interrupted. “Gelma, what does it mean when a male—I mean, when Drakolt’s eyes glow green?” We both turned to her, and my usually bold sister stammered and glanced down to mutter, “Sorcha told me Drakolt’s eyes sometimes glow green.”
“Ahh,” Gelma hummed thoughtfully. “’Tis the Mating thrall. ‘Twill come when he experiences high emotions relating to his Mate—fear, rage…need.” The last was said with a little wink my way, and when I blushed, she cackled.
“Now, come, lassie.” Gelma reached up as far as she could to wrap her arm around my shoulders. “I am to escort you to yer people.”
