“The very idea that the work should be decorative… puh!” she rants in disgust.
Ah, here we go.
“At least you don’t have to constantly turn clan members from your door now,” I say in a misplaced attempt to cajole her into a better temperament. I should have known better. My aunt likes to argue for the sake of it.
She thrusts a jar of ink she made from her own custom blend under my nose. “Don’t make excuses for that lot.” Her face then softens into a smile. “Never you mind now. We have your wife to see to. Let that foolishness carry on as they like. I have work to do.”
I solemnly and silently nod, thankful that she ended her tirade quicker than is her usual wont.
“Ferlia, you stay here child and keep an eye on that batch of ink. Do not let it set out too long under the sun, you hear?”
“Yes, Grandmother,” the girl says deferentially, but I do not miss the pass of affection between them.
“Very good. Well come on then, Orgath. The sun doesn’t wait for anyone.”
I chuckle and hoist my aunt onto Ethiel’s back. She gains her seating promptly and clutches her satchel tightly to her lap to keep it from jarring too much during the ride as I vault behind her. She gives Ethiel a fond pat on his head and he spins around, eager to return to Sammi.
Eager to be spoiled more is my guess.
***
Sammi
I look at the elderly female that Orgath introduced as his aunt Emel, and she seems intent on frowning as she returns my scrutiny.
“Hmph, so this is the human the whole clan is talking about. You are a mite smaller than I’d imagined,” she says, squinting as she looks me over. I try not to be insulted by her tone since Orgath at that moment lets out a huff of amusement.
“Not every species can be a mountain of muscle,” I say offhandedly and try not to shrink back when her yellow eyes narrow at me. She may be wrinkled and old, but she moves quickly and, judging from her grip on my jaw as she studies my face, she isn’t feeble in the least. I’m starting to wonder if she is going to kill me and have Orgath toss my offending carcass off the property when she bursts out laughing.
“Oh, I like this one,” she says, wiping a tear of mirth from her eye. “No coddling female, this one. A fine female,” she rasps, baring a pair of small chipped tusks with her grin. She slaps her leg and opens the lid of the bag she carried in with her.
“Well then. There are a few things that need to be done.” She squints at me again. “Not squeamish, are you, girl?”
“I… hope not?” I say, at a loss.
She chortles. “Well now, that is an interesting answer. See here, girl, you need the clan tattoos, but you also need a piercing,” she points to her septum ring, “that way you can wear the proper jewelry of an orc female.”
I nod to convey my understanding. The septum piercing is a new one for me—Orgath hadn’t mentioned it—but I’m not opposed. In for a penny, in for a pound as the saying goes. It’s not like I’m going back to my nine-to-five in the foreseeable future. Even if that became an option, it really isn’t one for me. I don’t want to leave Orgath anymore.
“Which would you like done first?” she asks, knocking me out of my reverie.
“Uhm, maybe the septum piercing? It’ll be over with faster and then we can get on to the lengthier process. I’m not sure if I want to face a piercing after hours of tattoo work.”
“Fair enough,” she says, her eyes twinkling with mirth, and produces a long thick needle. “Orgath, get the jewels please.”
Orgath nods and heads toward our bedroom, returning with a familiar box that contains the gold jewelry set with ice-blue stones that I recall he purchased at the market. He sets the box on the table around which we sit at Emel’s elbow. She grunts her thanks and begins to swab my nose with the sort of professional care that I would expect of a human tattooist. The alcohol stings briefly, clearly different than what we use, and she holds my nose still with the pressure from one hand. I yelp when the needle punctures through the thick flesh but manage to keep from making any further sound than breathing out a hiss of air between my teeth.
She douses the septum ring in alcohol and hooks it through the hole she made as she withdraws the needle. I feel a pinch as she closes the ring and she leans back to observe her handiwork. I wiggle my nose a bit, adjusting to the unfamiliar weight. Emel’s face wrinkles into an approving smile.
“Now lie back on the cushions with your head facing toward me,” she instructs and sets our small jars on the table at her side.
My nose stings like a bitch, but I do as she asks without complaint. Orgath settles beside me, a small smile curving his lips around his tusks. I focus on his eyes and let out a breath.
“This is going to hurt, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” he says with perfect honesty.
I narrow my eyes at him briefly. “You could have lied just a little.”
He shrugs, his cat-like eyes softening. “I would not lie to you, even to make things more comfortable.”
A strong finger thumps me on my forehead. I wince and glare up at the merciless appendage. Emel smirks down at me.
“Look, girl, hold still now,” she chides and roughly swathes the entire side of my face and neck with more of that burning liquid with the sort of efficiency that would do a nurse proud.
She takes out a wooden instrument and inserts a needle. I smell a sharp spice as she leans over me again and sets the needle against my temple. I hear a soft singsong chant and light clap, and then I feel the sharp prick as the needle begins to jab me repeatedly, following the repeating clapping noise. It stings brutally but doesn’t start really hurting until she gets down to my cheekbone.
I want to swear and cuss but suck my lower lip under my teeth and dig my fingernails into Orgath’s arm, which is in convenient reach. He grunts but doesn’t try to move away, as if he’s trying to shoulder some of the burden of the process.
When the “tattoo gun” moves slowly down to my jaw, I barely keep myself from screaming. Orgath’s eyes fill with concern, and he signals to his aunt to stop. Immediately, I can feel the skin tightening rebelliously.
“Do you need to stop for a moment to rest?”
The temptation almost makes me agree, but then I consider the way my skin is tightening and burning, and the idea of letting it sit longer and then resuming makes me want to cry.
No, better to just get on with it.
“No,” I croak. “It’ll just hurt more if we stop and start again. Please continue, Emel.”
The female gives me a broad grin, her eyes shining with pride and, without hesitation, resumes her task as she quietly sings her strange chants under her breath. Orgath still looks worried but I try to squeeze his hand reassuringly despite the way my fingers want to dig in as the pain mounts up again.
I don’t know how long I lay there, panting in agony, as she works. I’m dimly aware of the needle moving down my neck, but only when it stops, and feeling rushes into all the brutalized places she’d touched with her needle, that I can finally breathe a sigh of relief. It comes out sounding more like a painful whimper, and Orgath bathes the side of my face with a cool cloth with more of that stinging alcohol. I want to curse him until he flings the cloth away and drags me into his arms, murmuring words of affection into my ear.
Okay, it’s kind of hard staying mad at the big oaf, even if that stuff stung like acid on the fresh tattoos.
Emel’s eyes sparkle at me despite the fact that she appears to be sternly looking me over, and she begins packing up her equipment again.
“There, now you look orc,” she says, and then arches a whitened eyebrow. “Well, as much as a human can, anyway,” she amends with a mischievous look. She smacks Orgath on the shoulder as she pushes herself to her feet. “Well, best return me. I have things to do and can’t while away my day here. Who knows what that granddaughter of mine did to my ink in my absence?” she says sourly in pretense over her obvious fondness for her grandchild
.
Orgath chuckles and kisses the top of my head.
“Get some rest until I return, delfass-ki,” he mutters into my hair.
Yeah, that sounds good. Right now, I don’t even want to move my face… not even a little.
Chapter 12
Sammi
Another week and a half passes and Orgath finally agrees to go to town. I’ve been pointing out for days that our provisions are getting dangerously low again, but he’s resisted any talk of departure with an ironclad will that is pretty darn impressive on a large orc. I know that it’s mostly out of pity for my poor skin that heals so much slower than his own. Orgath doesn’t want me to be uncomfortable any more than I absolutely must, even if that fights against his impulse to feed me.
In all honesty, I’m not complaining. I’m not sure I wanted to risk possible infection traipsing around the village while my tattoos were fresh and still healing. I even got out of garden duty for most of the week. Now they have a nice, healthy light scab over them, and there’s no reason to delay any longer.
Orgath frowns at me with uncertainty as he adjusts the saddle on Ethiel. “I do not like taking you to the village without your clan tattoos healed.”
“Pfft, they aren’t even bothering me. Stop worrying.”
He grips my arm in his hand so quickly that it startles me.
“It is my place to worry about you. If you became sick or hurt, it would destroy me.”
My heart melts a little. Truthfully, I’ve been feeling a bit queasy the last few days, but it always eases off eventually so it’s nothing that will interfere with a quick trip to the village. I reach up and pat him on the cheek. “Well, that’s not going to happen. Besides, I have it on good authority from my ex that I’m difficult to argue with, so you might as well give in now and save yourself the trouble.”
His arms slowly wrap around me, drawing me up against his big, warm chest. “Is that so?” his chest rumbles beneath my ear. His hands skate down my arms, making me shiver. “Should I yield to you, delfass-ki? What pleasure would you have me do?”
I pull back and grin at him. “Oh, you are good—but nice try. We’re going.”
Orgath huffs a laugh and gives me a brusque kiss. “Very well, since you insist, up you go,” he says as he tosses me up into the saddle.
I cling to Ethiel’s scruff as Orgath seats himself behind me, a broad hand shifting my hips close to his to secure me in place in front of him. At his command, Ethiel leaps forward through the grasses and rushes over the plains, startling various birds into flight as we pass.
In the distance, I see a flash of white near the woodlands and squint my eyes. Oh, my gods, it can’t be! Excitedly, I squeeze Orgath’s arm to catch his attention.
“Orgath! Is that a unicorn?” I squeal. I can’t help it—I love unicorns. I have ever since I was eight years old and became fixated on the movies The Last Unicorn and Legend. We’re talking big time unicorn-crazy here.
Orgath looks over in the direction I am gleefully pointing and grunts. “Yeah, that would be a unicorn. Uncommon to see a white one—humans hunted most of their kind out. He must be an old one. This time of the year, he is likely out looking for his ‘mare.’ You stay far away from the beast.”
I turn halfway around in the saddle to look at him in shock. “He’s a unicorn,” I say as if that settles the matter. “I don’t think he would hurt me.”
“No, he won’t harm you, that is true. But he may try to enchant you. Unicorns are desperate creatures when they get looking for mares.”
“Uh, Orgath… human here, remember.”
He chuckles humorlessly. “Unicorns are born all male, my heart. They look for females among other races. These they often entrap within their groves and seduce. Only after they mate, when the female turns into a unicorn mare and is bonded to him for life, does he venture from his hidden grove with her..”
Contemplative, I lean back against Orgath and watch the unicorn rear up before disappearing once more from sight. “Huh. Well, that puts the unicorn tapestries in a completely different light.”
“What are those, then?” he mutters.
“The unicorn tapestries are very old and depict scenes of unicorns, some of which involve the hunting of unicorns by putting young women out as bait.”
“Ah, yes. I think I recall humans hunting unicorns in such a manner. Fool creatures. Too easily drawn out into the open and vulnerable because of any pretty face. They will not think twice of trying to take a lone female. This is one reason I wish you would stay far away from them.”
I frown. “But, Orgath, I thought unicorns could only be captured by virgins. We both know I’m not one.”
He laughs loudly. “Is that what you humans think? Unicorns have no such preference. In fact, a good many lusty females have been stolen away by unicorns because they thought they were meeting for a tryst with a fair-faced male. A unicorn can look near to an elf when he takes a two-legged form.”
“Oh,” I say and shiver. Suddenly, unicorns aren’t looking quite so sweet and innocent. I jab him with my elbow. “You’re destroying my childhood fantasies here, you know.”
Orgath doesn’t even wince but chuckles low in my ear. Of course, he wouldn’t even feel that. We ride in companionable silence the rest of the way until we see the stonework rising in the distance. Orgath is muttering behind me, too low for me to discern. However, I can literally feel the tension radiating from him.
Something about this visit wears heavily on him, and I suspect it has to do with me. I’m not so foolish that I don’t see how parading around as a full human, even with the clan tattoos, is risky. These orcs haven’t seen a human in generations and now there’s suddenly one thrown into their midst. This whole situation is unpredictable. Seeing how Orgath is the very definition of controlling, his inability to control the situation freaking him out a bit.
Word of our approach must spread quickly as I note orcs drift out of their home and places of business, their bright eyes fastened upon us and curious. To my relief I see a familiar face. Bodi rushes forward on his own delfass, cutting through the crowd to pull up at our side. He glances at me and grins widely.
“Greetings, Orgath! I see you brought your little human out of hiding. Lorf has been whispering that you are hiding her at your cottage to keep her tied to your side. A bold move to bring her completely out in the open.”
“Lorf will spew poison to anyone he can get to listen. His words have even carried as far as to the ears of the nearest court of elves. I will not stand for such rumors going around about Sammi. We are not going to stay hiding with some unfounded sense of guilt in our cottage, nor will I allow him to goad me into action. We are here for supplies and nothing more.”
Bodi looks at him in disbelief and shakes his head.
“Orgath, you are going to have to take control of the situation sooner or later. Inaction will do nothing but cause divisions within the clan. Already he is rousing supporters to his cause, and he enflames them against you and against the elves.”
Orgath frowns. “How many?”
Bodi sighs and does some mental calculations. “A few from this village, but more from the far-flung villages of our territory. Orcs who don’t well remember your family or remember the sight of your face like we do.”
I try not to shiver in dread, but none of this sounds good. If the clan splits, that can only mean one thing.
“You are inviting war, Orgath,” Bodi says quietly.
Orgath sighs. “I swore an oath when I survived the ruin brought about by Lorf that I would not raise my hand against him again—not when so many of my clan did nothing to aid my family. I also swore never to raise my hand for the benefit of the clan again.”
Bodi glances away, his jaw clenched. “Your clan failed you, but if you do not step in and take your place and lead, to protect us from Lorf, you will help strike down our clan, even if not by your own hand. Many of our people will not tolerate being led about by him much longer. War will come w
hether you will it or not.”
Orgath grunts again but doesn’t deign to say anything further. I can see it frustrates Bodi, but anyone who knows Orgath can’t expect anything else. He’s not one to waste his words once he makes up his mind. Privately, I agree with Bodi, but I don’t feel inclined to say so where everyone can hear. In the end, I am with Orgath, one way or the other, and I won’t have anyone saying otherwise.
As with our previous visit, Orgath settles Ethiel in the stable and we stop for a light midday meal at the tavern before we visit the market. Unlike last time, the tavern goes silent when we enter, and I can feel dozens of eyes on me as every orc in the room turns their attention on us. More specifically, on me. A few males stand up and step forward in a challenging manner but halt at Orgath’s bass growl. He encloses me in his arms and glares at all the orcs in the room.
“Not one of you will approach her if you value your hide. I know Lorf has been spreading rumors, and I will tell you now that they are not true. The only truth which he speaks is that my wife is human.” I freeze. Wait a minute, we’re still going with the wife gimmick? I thought we weren’t doing disguises. “But she is mine out of her choice, not because I stole her from the humans. She is not a captive—she is my bloodbonded mate.”
A whisper of awe goes up through the crowd and speculative looks turn wide-eyed. I frown. Something doesn’t feel right about this. It feels too—real.
Behind the bar, Erra leans forward and quirks her eyebrows at my expression. My stomach lurches with nausea, fueled by stress and the smell of mead and hot food permeating the air of the tavern. A cold sweat pops over my skin and the room feels like it’s suddenly spinning.
With a choked cry, I push out of Orgath’s arms, unable to listen as he calls my name. I rush out the door that we just entered and puke on the ground, my stomach heaving wretchedly. A familiar heavy hand rests on my back.
The Orc Wife Page 10
