Page 24 of Orc's Little Human
Fear has settledinto my bones like winter cold, and it's still there hours later when I hear Korrath's heavy footsteps approaching the longhouse. I'm sitting by the fire, trying to focus on mending one of Thali's tunics, but my hands shake so badly I keep pricking my fingers with the needle.
Thali notices, of course. She's been watching me with worried eyes since we returned, though she hasn't said anything. Smart girl—she knows something's wrong even if she doesn't understand what.
The door opens and Korrath steps inside, bringing the scents of weapon oil and cold air. His golden eyes sweep the room, taking in the domestic scene, before settling on me with uncomfortable intensity.
"You're shaking," he observes, his voice carefully neutral.
I set down the needle and thread, hiding my trembling hands in my lap. "Just cold."
"The fire's hot enough to melt iron." He moves closer, and I catch the way his nostrils flare slightly. Testing the air for signs of distress, reading emotions the way a hunter reads tracks.
Thali looks between us, clearly sensing the tension. "I'll go organize my stones," she announces, gathering her collection and disappearing into her room with the door closing behind her.
Smart girl. She knows when adults need to talk.
Korrath settles into the chair across from me, his massive frame making the furniture creak. "What happened?"
"Nothing happened." The lie comes automatically, a reflex born from years of surviving by keeping my mouth shut. But my voice cracks on the words, betraying me.
His eyes narrow. "Try again."
I want to tell him. The urge surprises me with its intensity—this desperate need to share the burden, to let someone elsecarry the weight of fear for just a moment. But admitting weakness feels like handing him a weapon to use against me.
"We ran into some of your guards on the way back from the river," I say finally. "They were... curious about your protection."
Something dangerous flickers behind his golden gaze. "Which guards?"
"Does it matter? They didn't actually do anything." I stand abruptly, needing to move, needing to burn off the nervous energy that's been building all afternoon. "Just made it clear that they think you're making a mistake keeping me alive."
"Their opinions carry no weight."
"Don't they?" I whirl to face him, anger finally overwhelming caution. "Because from where I sit, it seems like a lot of people in your clan think the same thing. That I'm some kind of weakness you can't afford."
Korrath rises slowly, his full height casting shadows across the room. But instead of the intimidation I expect, there's something almost careful in his movements. Like he's trying not to spook a wounded animal.
"You're under my protection," he says quietly. "That should be enough."
"Should be." The words taste bitter. "But it's not, is it? Every day I stay here, every day you don't kill me or break me or whatever it is they expect, your authority gets questioned a little more."
The fire crackles between us, casting dancing shadows on the walls. I can see weapons gleaming in the flickering light—constant reminders of the violence that rules this place.
"So why?" The question tears itself from my throat before I can stop it. "Why keep me alive if it's causing you so much trouble? What's the point?"
He doesn't answer immediately, and the silence stretches between us like a blade. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough with something I can't identify.
"I don't know."
The honesty in those three words hits me like a physical blow. I'd expected lies, or threats, or cold calculation. Not this raw admission of uncertainty from a man who radiates absolute control.
"That's not good enough," I whisper. "Not when people are talking about putting me down as a favor to you. Not when your own guards think I'm somehow corrupting you."
"They're wrong."
"Are they?" I step closer, close enough to see the flecks of bronze in his golden eyes. "Because I look at you sometimes and I see something I don't understand. Something that shouldn't exist between a war chief and his prisoner."
The air between us feels charged, electric with unspoken tension. I can smell the metallic scent of magic that always clings to him, can see the way his pupils dilate as I move closer.
This is dangerous. Everything about this moment screams danger—from the way he's looking at me to the rapid pulse I can see beating in his throat. But I can't seem to stop myself.
