Page 24 of Running from the Orc
She shrugged, more at ease than I could remember. “I am to be Drakolt’s Mate. His partner. ‘Tis important his people see me as such.”
I had spent more than a sennight living among those people, and I knew for a fact that what was planned would be considered normal. Still, I shook my head and clucked my tongue.
“Och, he will claim you as his Mate in front of all of them and your joining willdefinitelybe solidified in their mind.”
Mayhap not in Father’s, but that was Sorcha’s problem as the oldestsister.
“And a son, you say?”
Sorcha nodded, closing her eyes as she tipped back into the tub. “Gelma has seen it. My son will unite our people.”
“A nephew,” I mused. I was not surprised; if Sorcha and Drakolt had been up tohalfthe things the orcs got up to, she would absolutely be impregnated tonight as the holy woman foretold.
“Now,” Sorcha commanded, reaching for the sweet-smelling soap similar to the ones I had helped mold. “Tell me about your journey with that handsome charmer.”
Our conversation took us past sundown, with my older sister suitably outraged and understandably embarrassed about what Varkaan had done to me. What I hadenjoyedVarkaan doing.
But soon enough, ‘twas time for her future to begin.
“Promise you will not watch tonight,” she demanded, holding my hands.
I hid my shudder. ‘Twas one thing to spy on orc couples consummating their love…another thing to watch my sister publicly fooked by the chief.
“I swear.”
When Gelma joined us, her words seemed to comfort Sorcha. She spoke of pleasure and joy and the future, which sounded so different from the speech ondutywe had received when we had beenbundled off to fulfill one of Father’s betrothal contracts.
The way the old woman spoke of the future here among the Bladesedge people, I could tell comforted my sister. Sorcha wanted that future.
You want that future.
I gasped in realization.
Ididwant that future. Here in this village with my sister and Effie…
And Varkaan.
They had turned to me, and I needed a way to ask what I was afraid to hear.
“Gelma, what does it mean when a male—I mean, when Drakolt’s eyes glow green?” When Gelma raised her brow with a knowing smirk, I hastened to explain away the question, “Sorcha told me Drakolt’s eyes sometimes glow green.”
As if Varkaan’s had not done the same.
“Ahh, ‘tis the Mating thrall.” She explained to Sorcha, then turned to me. “A male can fight it, my daughter, but once the goddess has chosen his Mate, there is naught he can do but accept it.”
“A Mate,” I whispered, remembering whatVarkaan had told me.
Gelma nodded. “It is no’ just a partnership, but aknowing.” She brought her fist to her stomach. “Here.” She moved it to her chest, then her forehead. “Here. And here. Your body, mind, and heart recognize yer Mate, even if you dinnae want to.”
Recognize yer Mate.
Varkaan’s eyes had glowed green when he fooked me with his tongue. When he had held me so tenderly after.
Was that what this spark between us was?
Was I his Mate?
Long after Gelma had taken Sorcha away, and I heard the cheers of the gathered clan, I sat on the edge of my cot and stared down at my hands.
