“I invited you and your clan as guests,” Bakog says. “‘Tis not your fault they started a challenge and were expelled from the village. Please come back to the table. Let us get to know you.” There isn’t anything friendly in his tone and I take it for what it is. A test, a lesson that I am the only Southpeak facing two powerful clans.
That I have a duty to them.
Her father has returned to her side, glaring at me from his position, so I take a seat a few chairs down, which puts me in place to watch her. It’s odd to watch the two of them interact. To see his face soften when she speaks to him. They’re closer than most. They tease each other and whisper together.
I can’t imagine having a relationship like that with King Vronas of the Southpeaks. I can’t imagine anyone having a bond with him.
I’m sure her father balks at the idea of leaving his precious daughter with a stranger. But on the other hand, he knows my status. There’s no way I could harm her now that everyone is aware who my father and line is. The repercussions would fall upon the entire clan.
Unlike Levi who was sidling into position without them knowing his identity.
“Don’t be silly,” Negan says to her father. “You will go. Not many people get a chance to visit Mont Grove.”
Naturally, I can’t hear their whispers… but I am able to read lips after a childhood fever left me without hearing for several moons. When I regained it, I was sure to keep the practice of lip reading, often using melted wax in my ears to practice. I didn’t ever want to be stranded again without sound, but if it were to happen, I’d want to be prepared.
“I don’t trust him.”
“You don’t trust anyone.”
“Aye, ‘tis true. But especially not a Southpeak. He killed his own brother.”
“His brother was about to kill him. He tried to castrate him.”
“My point exactly.”
“I trust Bakog. And Grandpa Brachard. Any Southpeak knows it’ll be a slaughter of their entire clan should they even think of harming a female. So, am I worried? Not at all.”
“But do you trust him to defend you from others?”
“Aye. I do.”
Her father doesn’t speak for a moment. “I guess I do too. It doesn’t escape my notice that he fought harder when his brother taunted you.”
For one brief moment, I feel good inside. As if they recognize that maybe I am different than the others. A good person. Until I remember that it’s my job to bring an alliance between my people and the Blackhearts.
Only then can the West Mountain orcs be defeated.
That goodness inside me fizzles.
Concentrating on my food, I force myself to look down and stop eavesdropping. And by the time everyone has eaten, the dancing starts.
The three females, two of which are now mated, and the lovely Negan, stand in a line. When the drum beats sound, they loop their arms and twirl about, their full skirts swishing to make elegant patterns. They spin, going in opposite directions, their dresses hitting against each other like petals furling and unfurling.
It’s captivating until the music slows and the wenches catch their breath, cheeks warmed and eyes bright.
One by one, the other mated males step up to claim their brides until only Negan is left. Just when I think she’s about to leave the dance area to join her father, I step up.
And falter.
What am I doing? It was so automatic, my body jumped into action before my brain could catch up.
The female just raises her arms as if it is perfectly natural for me to claim her… for a dance.
“Thank you,” she says.
“My pleasure,” I murmur. I’m not foolish enough to give in to my desires and pull her close enough to pretend she’s mine. I keep a respectable space between us to show the relationship of guard to his charge, aware that her father and everyone else watches.
“Do you feel a bit better after eating?” she asks, peering at myswollen eye.
