Page 33 of Orc's Little Human
Then his fingers find the neck of my tunic and I hear the sharp sound of tearing fabric. Cool air hits my collarbone, and I know—I know he can see the mark now, see the way the skin is red and blistered as if it's been burned fresh.
My stomach churns with a combination of pain and terror. My secret—the one thing that could get me killed if the wrong people learned about it—is now exposed for everyone to see.
"What kind of secret have you been keeping from us, brother?"
The voice belongs to Onog, and it cuts through the haze of pain like a blade. I force my eyes open to find him standing just a few feet away, his weathered face creased with suspicion and something that might be concern. Behind him, other warriors press closer, trying to get a better look at whatever they think they've discovered.
Korrath's arms tighten around me, shifting so that his broad chest blocks their view of the torn fabric and exposed skin. But I can feel the tension in his body, the way every muscle has gone rigid with the effort of maintaining control.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he says, but even I can hear the lie in his voice.
"Don't try to fool us." Mol pushes forward, his eyes bright with curiosity and calculation. "I've seen your blood magic a hundred times, Korrath. It's never acted like that before. Never responded to anything except your own will."
The other warriors murmur agreement, and I can see the pieces clicking together in their minds. They don't know whatthe mark means, don't understand the connection between neptherium ore and blood-forged magic. But they know something unnatural just happened, something that involves me.
"She's cursed," Mol continues, his voice carrying easily across the circle. "Has to be. Nothing else would explain why your magic flared like that when she appeared."
"Cursed," Onog repeats, and the word seems to hang in the air like a physical weight. "Or blessed. Either way, she's not what she appears to be."
I press my face against Korrath's chest, trying to make myself smaller, trying to disappear entirely. But there's nowhere to hide now. They all stare at me with expressions ranging from suspicion to outright fear, and I know that everything has changed.
My secret is out, even if they don't understand its full implications. They know I'm connected to Korrath's magic in ways that shouldn't be possible. They know I'm more than just another human captive.
And that knowledge could destroy us both.
I clutch at Korrath's shirt with trembling fingers, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm. Whatever happens next, whatever consequences we face for this moment of exposed truth, I know he won't let them take me without a fight.
The question is whether that will be enough.
16
KORRATH
The walk back to the longhouse feels like the longest of my life. Selene's weight in my arms should be nothing—I've carried fallen warriors twice her size from battlefields—but every step sends tremors through my chest that have nothing to do with physical strain. Her face is ashen against my shoulder, breath coming in shallow pants that make something primal and protective roar to life in my blood.
She hid this from me.The thought circles like a scavenger bird, picking at the edges of my consciousness. Whatever that mark on her collarbone means, whatever power flows between us when I bleed iron into existence, she knew. She's known this entire time and said nothing.
The betrayal should anger me. Should make me want to shake answers from her until she tells me every secret she's been hoarding. Instead, all I can think about is the way her skin blistered under my touch, the agony that twisted her features when my magic responded to her presence.
What did they do to her?
The mark looked fresh despite clearly being old—raised flesh that bore the distinctive pattern of deliberate scarring. Someoneburned that symbol into her skin with purpose, with intent. The question is whether she volunteered for it or if it was forced on her in whatever hell she escaped from.
Thali appears in the doorway before I reach it, her small face creased with worry as she takes in Selene's pale complexion and my grim expression.
"What happened?" she demands, following us inside with the quick steps of someone trying not to be left behind. "Is she hurt? Did someone?—"
"She's going to be fine." The lie comes easier than it should. Truth is, I don't know what the fuck is happening to either of us. "But I need you to help me take care of her."
I push through the main room toward my private chambers, the space I've never brought anyone else into. The bed frame I carved from driftwood years ago dominates one wall, thick furs piled high enough to cushion even my massive frame. Weapons line the walls in careful arrangement—not for intimidation like in the room where I first kept Selene, but because this is where I maintain my personal arsenal.
Selene's eyes flutter open as I lower her onto the furs, those gray-blue depths immediately focusing on my face with an intensity that makes my chest tight.
"You saw," she whispers, and there's something like defeat in her voice that makes my jaw clench.
"I saw." I don't soften the words, don't try to spare her feelings. "And we're going to talk about what it means. But first, we're going to take care of the damage."
Her fingers move instinctively toward her collarbone, then stop as if she's afraid to touch the inflamed skin. "It's not as bad as it looks."
