Page 7 of Promised To the Orc
The king’s orcs motion for us to follow. We leave the courtyard and enter the palace through an arched doorway. Two steps in and I stumble while looking up, shocked, at clear globes hanging from the ceiling with lights inside. It’s the most brilliant light I’ve ever seen. They run the length of the ceiling, one globe every six feet. Unlike torchlight, these globes allow me to see everything inside with perfect clarity. The golden paper on the walls and the dark blue floors with stamped gold and white patterns, just as Tor described.
Reining in my awe and curiosity, I hurry to follow the others. We go through a series of hallways to a large set of golden doors. My palms grow sweaty and my stomach rumbles with nerves.
The king’s guards prevent mine from going any further. “She will go in alone.”
My heart flutters. Alone?
My bodyguards growl in disapproval. One grabs me by the wrist and tugs me close to his side. The king’s orcs square up for a fight. If I don’t agree, there’s going to be bloodshed and I don’t want that on my conscious.
“It’s all right,” I say with confidence I don’t feel. “I’ll go.”
Gripping the strap of my satchel tightly, I tug my wrist and the bodyguard lets go, his brown eyes lingering on mine in a sign of unease. The weight of the weapons on my shoulders is reassuring. My orcs will come running at the first sound of trouble and I’m not afraid to put my hand-to-hand combat training to the test if I need to.
Besides, there is something I must discuss with the king and perhaps it’s better if my bodyguards don’t overhear. I’m not sure how they’d respond if the king denies my request. I’m led inside the golden door. Apprehension nearly gets the better of me as I enter. Who am I to ask anything of the most powerful man in the land? But if not me, then who?
Heavy purple curtains flank three thrones. The largest sits in the center with a smaller throne on each side. An orc appears from the shadows. Two thick furs drape over his shoulders and a golden band circles his head, shimmering brightly against his dark hair. There’s something familiar about him but I can’t make it out from this distance.
He sinks into the center throne and waves me forward. “Come!”
As I get closer, a faint memory moves forward from the back of my mind. There’s something remarkably familiar about King Zalcom, except I can’t quite place him.
“This is the Ritka swordsmith?”
“I am,” I say proudly.
His eyes narrow, as if he’s displeased that I answered him directly. His lips purse into a tight pucker and I suddenly remember his face. The Orc Commander used to narrow his eyes and lips in the same manner. His hair was always tightly braided and not free flowing the way it is now. His hard face was clean-shaven and not covered with a beard like the man before me. King Zalcom is the former Orc Commander responsible for humans being imprisoned in the ice caves. He governed us with an iron fist. He was the voice who gave the orders for my people to be beaten, sometimes to death, and dragged while still alive down the death tunnel and into the pits. His orders withheld food, firewood, and clothing from us, so we froze and starved, and kept us working the mines until we collapsed.
He’s not just the man responsible for our misery; he’s also Tor’s father. If he’s now king, then that means Tor is—
“On your knees, girl.”
I’m so stunned by the revelation that I don’t process what he said quickly enough. The guards are on me in a flash. One takes me by the arm and the other by the shoulder and wrenches me to my knees. Keeping my muscles loose, I don’t resist. I can’t afford to be injured but also, I’ll be damned if I’ll ever willingly stay on my knees before this man. Huffing breath through my nose, I keep my head down until the orcs back away and then I spring to my feet. My hood falls off as I reach for the sword and close my hand around the hilt.
Rising from his throne, the king descends four steps until he’s on the floor at my level. His lips pull into an angry slice. I meet his eyes, challenging him. Give me a reason to draw this sword. My chest heaves rapidly, the blood burning inside my veins. He has so much to pay for. But I’m just one small human woman. Knowing the odds are clearly against me doesn’t stop the mental image of driving my sword through his chest to make him pay for everything he’s done to my people.
He clearly doesn’t remember me.
If he gives me the chance, I’llgladlyremind him who I am.
Chapter Three
OrcsfromtheRitkavillage have caused commotion inside the castle.
The distraction is the perfect cover for my late return. No one sees me enter and slip into my rooms, where I change out of my traveling clothes and into something appropriate for sharing a meal with my father. It’s a chore I’m not looking forward to. Especially not tonight. If he finds out what I’ve been up to, he’ll finish the beating he gave me years ago. Only this time, I’m strong enough to fight him equally. Perhaps I’d even kill him, which would solve the problem much sooner than planned.
If not for the meal, I would have gone straight to my cabin in the forest, but my father is keeping me close to his side again. I’ve learned over the years that he only does this when he’s up to something. My proximity seems to bring him comfort, as if I’m more of a pet than a son. Not that he’s ever treated me as his actual flesh and blood.
When I was a child, I used to assume that my father kept me close to protect me. An orc of his power was at risk of enemies seeking retribution, or having his status overthrown by someone stronger and more aggressive. This made me a powerful weapon to be used against him.
But I quickly learned protection was never his intent. He allowed his henchmen to toss me around for sport, sometimes roughing me up to the point where I’d bleed and bruise. They would rip my hair and clothing while he watched and laughed. He let the power of his position as the Orc Commander and overseer of the humans and the ice caves get to him. And when he planned to overthrow King Vol, his ego only got worse.
My advantage now is that I’m an expert fighter and can protect myself.
There’s a commotion coming from the throne room when I enter from behind the curtains. I hear my father’s voice and then a sharp exhale with a female undertone. Curious, but not wanting to reveal myself just yet, I peak between the crack in the curtains and find my father’s guards forcing a young woman to her knees. Her scent wafts my way and I take a second and third draw, just to be sure of what I’m detecting.
She’s human! My entire body shivers with an icy chill. There hasn’t been a human in this village since they all escaped the ice caves. My father vowed to hunt them down and drag them back, but he quickly became immersed in overthrowing King Vol and making plans to invade the mountain clan. He never pursued them.
My senses are suddenly on high alert. I can’t imagine what a human female would be doing inside the palace. She certainly won’t leave here with her life. The thought sickens me. Bile burns the base of my throat. Touching the hilt of my knife for reassurance, I watch in anticipation of my father’s next move. I’ll never allow him to hurt this female, or any human, but I don’t have enough weapons to fight off all his guards.
