“I knowyou. I see the male you are. You care for your people. You make mistakes and try to fix them. You see the flaws and the vulnerabilities in others but you work to make your people stronger. You makemestronger.”
So much suddenly becomes clear for me about Atox. “My fear of the dark, my inability to communicate with your people… Would your father have done anything to help a person with those?”
“He would have killed you for denying or disrespecting him. As he killed my mother when she placed herself between him and me, shielding me.”
I’m stunned. No words can remove his pain, no matter how much I want to. I shift in his lap, twisting my body so I can take his face in my hands. When his eyes meet mine, I see something I never thought I’d see in Atox. Fear.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
ATOX IM GRAK
“Grak,” one of my sentries acknowledges as my female and I cross the shallow river that marks the eastern boundary of our territory.
The sun set long ago, but I can see well enough to ride in the dark. I prefer it, too. My female’s sleeping in my arms. The drug the bantarans gave her drained her energy.
She gave me much to think about. The other human females won’t want to come here. Each one I bring might cause trouble, especially if my warriors do not have the patience with them that I’ve had with Paloma.
My warriors have language chips, so communication will not be an issue. But there are cultural differences, many of which I continue to encounter with Paloma. Though we seem to have come to a compromise. I’ve given her the means to communicate with my people. But I’m unsure if she understands that my word is law.
I have the greatest responsibility toward my people, and yet I am the greatest danger to them.
Sojek greets me with a silent but respectful nod as I enter the paddock due east of the main camp. When he’s not driving the cart to and from Pen’Kesh, he cares for the gorjas along with three other young males who also lack warrior potential.
I wake Paloma so I may lower her to the ground, then I slide from my mount, leaving the gorja to graze.
“Sojek,” I call, halting my nephew as he begins to remove the riding gear.
Still tired from the drug, Paloma leans against my side. Her hand slides to my back, lightly pressing against my scars. An innocent touch or a reminder that I hurt Sojek and I can do better, be better, than my father?
I’m unable to interpret her touch, but having her hand on me feels good, like she is giving herself to me.
“Yes, Grak?” Sojek’s eyes display a fear I don’t like to see in any orc, especially one of my line. I grip his face and look at his cheek where I cut him. The skin has healed nicely, thanks to Ossa and her gels.
“No scars,” Paloma comments with awe in her voice. “Not physical ones at least.” Her words, said with a flat, heavy voice, remind me of who I don’t want to be.
“I erred, Sojek. I punished you in a way that you did not deserve.”
“You were justified, Grak. I will do better next time.”
“I was not justified. Do not tell yourself this. Graks are strong, but not perfect. My grak made mistakes. Many. Or has your mother not told you of him?”
Sojek’s eyes move to my female seeking help. He fears telling me the truth, but he dare not lie either.
“Speak to me, Sojek, not my female.”
“My mother told me of her father and grak.”
“And what is your impression of him?”
“He was… unstable.”
A very apt description of my father. Though I would add a few more words. Manipulative. Vindictive. Sadistic.
Paloma’s hand slides to mine, centering me. “Return to your duties, Sojek.”
“Yes, Grak.”
“Sojek?”
