Page 48 of The Orc's Thief
“It’s complicated.” I glance behind us to make sure Cricket is still following and to buy myself a moment to gather my thoughts. “Do you know anything about our history?”
Tessa shakes her head but doesn’t call me out for asking a question of my own.
“The Bellhaven Clan, where I’m from, settled in the mountains north of the Duchy of Ultrup,” I explain. “But we’ve only existed as a separate clan for about fifteen years, ever since our king, Gorvor, left the Stonefrost Clan’s territory in search of a better future.”
“I didn’t know that,” she says. “When I arrived in Ultrup, I saw orcs from time to time, but I never tried to steal from them. They looked like trained warriors.”
“We are, for the most part,” I agree. “At least, that’s how it was in the old clan. King Trak, Gorvor’s father, spent his long reign conquering other orc clans and folding them into his own. He demanded loyalty from the warriors he defeated, took in those who swore to him, and killed the rest. Women were treated like a resource. They were offered first to his advisors, in case any were their true mates, then put to work in the great Stonefrost Fortress.”
I don’t remember much about life in the old clan, apart from the constant combat training. That had consumed my every waking hour until we left. But Idoremember my parents’ worry that Irrin, still unmated at the time, would catch the eye of some older noble and be carted off to be a concubine, or worse.
“So returning to the old clan wasn’t an option,” Tessa says softly. “But we’re traveling toward the Stonefrost kingdom now.”
I offer her a small smile. “I know. I’m hoping that whatever business you have in these parts, we won’t have to cross the border. My former clanspeople won’t take kindly to one of the Bellhaven orcs trespassing on their land.”
She’s silent for a long while, and I take the opportunity to study her, the woman the Fates have chosen for me. I memorize her profile: the slightly upturned nose, the freckles dusting her skin, and the way her auburn hair escapes its tie in the wind. My gaze drops to her hands, and I curse inwardly. The salve I gave her helped, but the burn marks remain, a mottled pattern on the newly formed, still-pink skin.
I grip the reins tighter, overwhelmed by the sudden desire to return to Ultrup, find Damen, and punch him in the face for designing a safe that dangerous. It doesn’t escape me that Tessa is the one who broke into his mansion, yet I’m angry at the man instead.
“Has no one tried to return since you left?” she asks finally, breaking the silence. “From your clan to theirs, I mean.”
Grimacing, I recall the disaster from a few years ago. “No, but Prince Charan, heir to King Trak, came to visit our clan with a few of his warriors. They kidnapped the queen, and several people were killed by the end.”
Tessa stares at me, her eyes wide. “Wait, so this prince kidnapped…his brother’s wife?”
“Well, it was his men who hatched a plot to destabilize our kingdom, so he wasn’t directly responsible, but the event still soured relations between our clans.” I glance east, into the forest, as if I could see past the hills and marshes to the mountains that shelter our old home. “Not that things were good to start with. We haven’t heard anything from them since Prince Charan left Bellhaven. It’s been a few years, so it’s possible he’s king now.”
Or there’s been a coup, and one of the old king’s generals has seized power and is forming plans to attack again. It’s impossible to know. King Gorvor had considered sending scouts east to find out what’s been happening, but he didn’t want to risk anyone’s life needlessly.
“Maybe I’ll be able to report back,” I finish. “If we come close enough to the border, that is.”
It’s a prompt for Tessa to tell me what this trip is really about, besides escaping from Ultrup. But she remains guarded and offers nothing more.
“I think it’s my turn to ask a question,” I tell her.
Her gaze sharpens. “No, I still—” She pauses, thinking through our conversation, then sighs. “You’re probably right. I used mine up, didn’t I?”
“You did.” I grin at her, enjoying the way she holds my gaze. “What do I smell like to you?”
“What?”
A slow flush creeps across her cheeks, and she turns her face away, ducking her chin.
I guide Pip a little closer to her mare, just enough to catch the sweet whiff of her scent. It’s enough to harden my cock and send blood rushing through my veins, but I retreat again, giving her space.
“What do I smell like to you?” I repeat, insistent.
“I don’t know,” she murmurs, still refusing to meet my gaze.
“The truth, Tessa.” My voice drops low, an admonishment, though anticipation thrums beneath it.
She finally lifts her chin and meets my eyes with a defiant glare. “Cedar. I think. And something lemony and sharp.”
“Hmm.” I lean back, trying to imagine the scent. “Not bad.”
The fact that she knew exactly how to answer is all the confirmation I need—we reallyaremates.
Her eyes narrow. “That’s it? That was your question?”
