Her Orc Protector: Chapter 22

My fist connects with Marut’s jaw, and a satisfying thwack echoes around the small space. My heart is hammering so fast, I must be on the verge of passing out, and my surroundings flash past in quick pulses. A shout from Korr, who tried to reach for me but wasn’t quick enough. A surprised inhale from Marut, whose head barely twitches at my punch. Then, a wave of pain radiating from my knuckles into my wrist and all the way up to my arm.

I cry out, curling over my injured hand, and Korr grabs me by the waist, hauling me toward him.

“Stop.”

We all freeze where we are and turn to face the third man in the room.

“What is the meaning of this?” King Gorvor thunders. “Ivy, what are you playing at?”

I swallow a whimper. I’ve really done it this time. He might not have wanted to punish me for being a witch, but he will for this. Still, I did it for a reason, and I’m not sorry.

“Y-you said this was their fight.” My throat tightens, and tears prickle in my eyes, both from the pain throbbing in my hand and from fear. But I force myself to continue. “Didn’t you? But it’s not just theirs. Marut dragged me into it with his nasty comments and by trying to get me locked up. And I punched him, just as Korr did. So if you punish my mate with a night down here, you should punish me with the same.”

The king stares at me in disbelief, then draws his big palm over his face. “Gods. I swear, the three of you deserve each other. What were you thinking? This is completely—”

“Let her stay,” Marut croaks.

We all swivel to look at him, and he ducks his head again, then clears his throat.

“If she wants to. I don’t mind.”

He doesn’t mind?

He’s spent the last weeks being actively disdainful toward me and tried to frame me for something I didn’t do, and now he doesn’t mind me staying?

I glance up at Korr to find him staring at his twin brother, his jaw tight.

“Fine.” The king lets out a long exhale. “If this means you will mend whatever is going on here, stay with them.” He flings the door open and says, “Guards. Pat those two down for weapons. I don’t want any more bloodshed tonight.”

The two guards hustle into the cell and carry out the orders. The king leaves, shutting the outer door to the prison with a loud thud, and I breathe a sigh of relief. This could have devolved into a much harsher punishment for everyone, but especially for me. I’m lucky I wasn’t banished from the clan, I know that.

“We will bring you dinner,” the woman says reluctantly after her colleague plucks a short hunting knife from Korr’s boot. “Don’t make this harder on yourselves. Can I trust you to be on your best behavior?”

I nod, embarrassed, and Korr does the same. Marut only turns his back to the door and shuffles off to sit in the far corner. At least he doesn’t take up the cot—I would have kicked him in the shin if he tried.

The male guard picks up the lantern and heads for the door, the woman preceding him.

“Oh, no,” I say, hurrying after them, “we need that lantern.”

The male frowns. “The king said no weapons.”

“That’s not a weapon,” I protest. “Please, I can’t see in the dark.”

He only shakes his head in answer, but when the heavy door slams shut after them, the woman opens the little window, peering inside.

“There,” she says, “this should do it.”

With that, they leave, and the thud of the iron reinforced door tells me they’ve locked us in. The small opening at the top of the door, barely the size of two of my palms, lets out some light from the corridor, but it’s not much. Enough to see by, perhaps, but it won’t help Korr feel any better, I already know it.

“Afraid of the dark, human?” Marut mutters from the other side of the cell.

I whirl toward him, but Korr beats me to it. He walks right up to where his brother is sitting on the floor, until the toes of their boots touch.

“If you say one more nasty thing to my mate,” he growls, “if you touch her again, I will kill you in your sleep.”

“Korr!” I yelp, shocked at the violence in his words.

Marut seems taken aback, too, as if he didn’t expect Korr to protect me. “She’s the one who hit me!”

But my mate only stares at his twin brother, expression grim. “I smell your scent on her, which tells me you grabbed her to bring her down here. If you so much as breathe on her, I will know, and you won’t live to see another day. Do you understand?”

Marut’s throat bobs as he swallows. “I understand.”

Korr turns on his heels and stalks off toward the bed, sinking onto it with a grunt. I hurry over to him, equal parts concerned and thrilled that he stood up for me like this.

But when I reach him, I stop, suddenly hesitating. We haven’t talked about the fact that I lied to him. Korr gazes up at me for a long moment, his jaw tight. Then he opens his arms for me.

I sink onto his lap, grateful beyond belief that he’s here. That he’s not rejecting me for my mistake.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, emotions clogging my throat. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

He brushes my messy hair back from my face and kisses my temple. “I knew all along.”

That has me pushing back from his chest so I can meet his gaze. “How?”

His lips curl into that lopsided smile of his. “You, ah, glowed when I stitched you up that day. Just faintly, but it was enough.”

“I glowed.” I repeat the words, but it doesn’t make this sound any more real.

He shrugs. “Perhaps it was a response to the pain.”

“I think I would have noticed in my twenty-six years of life if I glowed when in pain,” I snap. Then I scrub my hands over my face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—I only meant that this has never happened before. I was in pain when the villagers tied me to the tree, as well, but they didn’t say anything.”

“I don’t think it would have been visible in daylight,” Korr says as if this is the most natural thing in the world.

“What did they do to you?”

We both turn toward Marut. To me, he’s a barely visible form in the gloom, but Korr’s gaze sharpens, so he must see his brother better.

“That’s none of your business,” he snarls.

“Right.” Marut’s voice is faint as he answers. “Sorry.”

I think he meant his words to sound jeering, but I detect a faint tone of dejection underlying them. Biting my lip, I poke Korr in the side, where Marut can’t see it. Korr frowns down at me, and I widen my eyes dramatically, inclining my head ever so slightly toward Marut.

In answer, Korr rolls his eyes but finally lets out a resigned sigh, which I take as permission to speak.

“The people in my old village found out I had magic.” I offer up the truth, hoping he won’t take it and fling it back in my face. “I can’t do much. Only what you already saw. Whoever the witch was in my bloodline, they’re very far removed. But to them, it was enough.”

Marut is silent for a long moment, and I think he might not reply.

Then he asks, “So they tied you to a tree?”

I’ve had some time to get past the experience, but I still shiver with the memory of how close I came to dying that day.

“They sent two men with me to the woods to kill me,” I say. “But they were afraid I’d curse them, so they tied me up and left me to the wolves. I would have been eaten—or frozen to death if Korr hadn’t found me.”

“I didn’t know,” Marut says quietly. “I wouldn’t have… There is nothing wrong with having magic.”

I square my shoulders. “I know.”

It’s true. I do know that, even if I still forget it sometimes. Not having the power would make my life much easier, but there’s nothing I can do about it.

Korr lifts my throbbing hand to his lips and presses a gentle kiss to my knuckles. He extends my fingers and has me curl them again, and I follow the movements, though it hurts.

“I’m sorry I hit you, Marut,” I force out through gritted teeth as Korr massages the back of my palm. Then I think of it some more and add, “Well, not really, but it felt like the right thing to say. You deserved it, but I promise not to do it again if you promise not to frame me for any more imaginary crimes.”

“All right,” Marut says. “I can take that deal.”

Korr chuckles. “Fierce little witch. But you shouldn’t go punching orcs like that.” He shakes his head at me. “At least not until I teach you how to hit properly. You could have really hurt your hand. You’re lucky you didn’t break your fingers.”

“He’s right,” Marut adds. “And the jaw is a bad place to hit. Hard bone. I could barely feel the hit. Next time, try aiming for the nose. It hurts more. Or poke them in the eye with two fingers.”

In the dark, I can barely make out the jabbing motion he makes with his hand.

Orcs. I might never really understand them, but they grow on you.

We lapse into a comfortable silence—or at least, Marut and I do. Korr, however, tenses more underneath me with every passing moment, and I realize that he’s been trying to keep himself busy by examining my hand. If we were alone, I’d try distracting him by freeing that hard ridge I can feel under my ass, but his brother is here, for gods’ sake. We can’t fuck with him present.

As unobtrusively as I can, I take his hand, ignoring the twinge of pain in mine, and press my thumbs into the soft flesh of his palm. Kneading gently, I hum a little tune my mother used to sing, a song about summer meadows and flowers, as if I could bring a bit of that mood into this dark place.

But it’s not working. Every sharp inhale Korr takes hurtles him closer to breaking point. He shuffles his feet on the floor, grips the edge of the bed with his free hand, and scrunches up his eyes.

Just when I think he’s about to say something, the cell locking mechanism clangs, and a moment later, the latch unlocks on our door. The two guards have brought us food—the male carries a large tin platter while the woman stands behind him, relaxed but holding on to the hatchet at her waist, as if she’s decided to trust us but is ready anyway in case one of us tries to burst out of the cell.

Korr sets me on my feet and surges for the door. For a moment, I think he might try to make a run for it, but he only intercepts the male guard and takes the platter from him, thanking him. The guards leave, and Korr brings the platter to the cot. It’s another distraction, I realize, when he divides the food amongst us, picking all the best pieces for me.

Marut joins us by the bed, slowly rising from his place on the other side of the cell, and takes a piece of dark-brown rye bread and some cheese from his brother. He hovers awkwardly until Korr lets out a breath and motions for him to sit on the floor close to us. To my surprise, Marut does as he is told without objection, sitting cross-legged and munching on his dinner.

I try to think of something to say that would further keep Korr’s mind away from the prison and the entire Hill above us, but there’s only one burning question in my mind, something that’s been bothering me all this time.

“What’s in that corridor?” I blurt.

The two orcs pause mid-chew, then exchange a glance. It’s the first time they’ve looked at each other with anything other than aggression, and for a moment, I think I might have found the one topic they agree on.

But Marut says, “You really haven’t told her?”

And Korr scowls at him, “Of course I haven’t.”

Marut throws up his hands, a piece of bread still clutched in one fist. “Oh, forgive me. I thought you were more than content to tattle.”

Korr surges to his feet. “What the fuck are you trying to say? That I would betray my king?”

“Well, you betrayed me,” Marut growls back, shoving away from the floor to stand, “didn’t you? So what’s to say you wouldn’t do it to him? To all of us?”

They’re nearly evenly matched. Korr might be half an inch shorter than his brother, yet his shoulders are a little bulkier. I don’t know who would win if they fought, and I don’t want to find out. Not tonight.

“Hey,” I cry, drawing attention to myself. “Stop it. Both of you.”

They turn as one, their expressions identical, though Korr’s softens when he lays eyes on me. Marut crosses his hands over his chest and huffs, then stalks to the door to lean his back on it, further obscuring the room.

“Would you move?” I bark at him. “You’re dimming the light.”

Marut opens his mouth to object, but Korr glowers at him, expression feral.

“She said, move,” he snarls.

To my surprise, Marut moves. Maybe he heard the thinly veiled violence in Korr’s voice, or maybe he’s just humoring us in order to stab back with something even worse.

But I don’t have time to focus on him because my mate is unraveling, his chest heaving with breaths, his gaze wild.

“Korr?” I inch closer slowly, hands extended to take his. “Darling, I need you to sit.”

But he backs away from me, digging his fingers into his disheveled hair, and I know I’m losing him. I caused all this by getting so stupidly lost, and now he can’t get out. I can’t reach him.

He’s trapped here because of me.