Page 17 of Promised To the Orc
“Trust me.”
I take a breath to speak, but he interrupts with a growl. “I know, you don’t trust me! But follow along, anyway.”
I don’t argue, but I also don’t feel afraid. Even as he takes me to the edge of the village, I don’t feel afraid. Orcs mill around, doing the tasks of their daily lives as we walk the street. Most turn to look at me, clearly shocked to see their prince dragging a human through the village. Two small children follow behind us, chattering curiously but not getting too close.
“Is this safe?”
“I am the prince. No one would dare harm you in my presence. Besides, I’ll gut anyone who tries.”
He says this with so much volume; the words vibrate through the air. His grip on my wrist loosens and before I can pull away, his big, warm palm presses against mine. My breath hitches as his fingers thread through mine and curl slightly. I suddenly think of the first time he held my hand. My fingers had been so cold, and our fires were burning low. The tips had turned color, and I knew I needed to find warmth or risk losing my fingers.
Tor had come that night and pulled my hands through the gate bars to hold them between his own, gently blowing and rubbing to encourage circulation. And then he’d pressed himself against the freezing bars and placed my hands between his arm and his ribs. His body heat saved my fingers that night. Once I was warmed, he held our hands together just like this and I’d fallen asleep against the gate connected to him. Early the next morning, a small amount of firewood had been placed just outside the bars where I could reach. He was gone, but his love remained in each thin stick of wood that kept us warm that morning.
Something touches my eyelashes. Blinking hard to dislodge it, I’m startled to find it’s a tear. Emotion overwhelms me and I pull against his arm, trying to get him to stop.
“Tor, wait! Wait, please.”
Sobs clogged my throat, and I gasped for air as tears rolled down my cheeks and blur my vision. His brow falls when he sees me, and he grabs my other hand to pull me closer. But I resist and try to twist away from him.
“Tell me I can trust you. It will kill me if I find out you’re working against me. Please, Tor. Please, tell me the boy I used to love is a man that I can trust.”
He is so tall and intimidating. I have to crank my neck to look up at him.
“Alta.” He whispers my name and tugs me against him. Before I can think, I’m against his tall body and wrapped in his arms. Right there, in front of everyone, he holds me in the embrace I’ve longed for since the first day we met.
He cups the back of my head and slowly runs his fingers down my hair. His palm presses between my shoulder blades, his fingers splaying to hold me more tightly against him. My sobs slow, and I’m incrementally aware of the thud, thud, thud of his heartbeat beneath my cheek. My Tor has me in his arms where I’ve always wanted to be.
The startled chatter of people around us reaches my ears, but I ignore it. I’m just happy he didn’t finally embrace me in front of the king.
“I am not working against you, my Alta. I would never hurt or deceive you. You can trust me. I swear on my mother’s grave that you can trust me.”
“I’m not here to kill the King. You can trust me, too.”
Tor pulls back and looks down at me. His eyes drop to my mouth and my heart goes wild. His full lips are interrupted by one perfectly white, pointed tusk between them. What would it be like to have those lips against mine? I know nothing about kissing except I’ve seen couples in Ritka do it now and again as a sign of affection. I always thought the practice quite disgusting… Until right now.
His throat moves as he swallows. “Come with me. We have a lot to discuss.”
My chest aches as if I’ve been punched, and a bruise is slowly healing. Rubbing a hand over it curiously, I groan as the sensation grows. Sudden warmth rushes through my veins and I feel lighter somehow. Gripping his hand, curling my fingers fiercely around his, I widened my stride to keep up with him. I feel different, as if allowing myself to trust Tor was the right thing to do. As if I knew all along that I could.
He takes me to the end of the street and into a small building with the amazing scent of sweets and brew wafting around. We sit at a windowless table in the back. An orc woman with a stained apron and her hair in complicated braids walks by, then backs up and openly stares at me. There’s nowhere for me to go as I’m between her and the wall, but Tor’s presence reassures me.
“This is her?”
“Yes. Sash, this is Alta.”
“Do you drink brew?” She points the question at me.
“Yes.”
She leaves and comes back with two mugs of steaming brew and a basket filled with swirled sweets. I’d never had brew until arriving in Ritka and it reminded me of the drink called coffee that my father used to talk about. Dried beans are ground and then soaked in water to make a strong drink that provides warmth and energy. He used to crave it in the ice caves, and I so wished I could get him some.
“How does she know about me?”
Wrapping my hands around the mug, I bring it to my lips and take a small sip. It’s pungent and earthy.
“This is a safe place. Alta, listen to me. There’s a revolution brewing against the king, and I don’t want you caught in the middle. If something happens, this is where you’ll come to be safe. Sash will protect you.”
The sword vibrates again. Slapping my hand over the scabbard, I hiss for it to stop. Tor tilts his head.
