Blood of the Orc Prince by Lionel Hart
3
Chapter Three
After a few more days of travel, they reached the border between Aefraya and Autreth. On this mountain trail there was no marker or indication of the crossing, but when they consulted their map in the evening they deduced they had descended the mountain enough that they had to be in Autreth by now, and should be able to reconnect with the main road the next morning. They would likely even find a roadside inn to stop at by the following evening.
“Hopefully they have a good bath,” Zorvut teased, and Taegan chuckled. Though it was said in jest, he did hope a hot bath would be possible—the dirt and grime of the road, among other things, was by far the least pleasant part of the trip so far. He could not recall ever having smelled so much in his life.
“Well, now that we’re out of Aefraya,” he said. “Why don’t we try testing the bond like we talked about?”
“All right,” Zorvut agreed, then seemed to hesitate. “Let’s just be careful. We’re not that far from the border. Why don’t I go on ahead?”
Part of him bristled at that—he was perfectly capable of protecting himself—but the rational part of him knew that Zorvut’s request was reasonable, and it was always a good idea to play it safe, especially in a place neither of them had been before. So he nodded, pulling back on Ember’s reins so she slowed to a stop.
“Go on,” he said, gesturing with one hand. “I’ll wait for a minute then follow slowly.”
“Stay focused on me,” Zorvut said, and he kicked his heels into Graksh’t’s sides, sending them galloping down the road.
Taegan closed his eyes and took in a long, slow breath, focusing on the pinpoint of heat in the back of his head near the base of his skull where their bond lived. He could feel Zorvut projecting something toward him—a sense of uncertainty, curiosity, trying something new. Ember shifted nervously under him, unsure why they remained behind, but he tried to keep as much of his attention on the bond as he could muster even as he opened his eyes and nudged her forward at a leisurely walk.
They trotted along for a few minutes until the connection was suddenly gone. There was no pain or discomfort—just a sudden silence where there had once been sound. It was a strange sensation after having focused so intently on the bond, as if he had been staring out a window only to have a curtain instantly, unexpectedly dropped over it. Taegan pulled back on the reins, waiting for a moment to see if it would return. Just when he started going forward once more, he felt the bond snap back into place, a sense of returning coming through it. It had reappeared as quickly as it had vanished. He had suspected it might feel like a candle flickering back to life, but it had not been like that at all—it simply was, then was not, and was again.
Zorvut reappeared on the road after a moment, slowing to a trot as he approached.
“It was just like you said,” he called out as he came within earshot. “I had gone about a mile before it cut off. Are you hurt at all?”
“No, not at all,” Taegan replied, startled. “Why? Are you?”
“No, no,” he laughed, shaking his head. “I suppose I was just worried, after… well, after everything. That’s good to know.” They walked alongside each other for a moment; Zorvut was clearly thinking, and Taegan glanced over at him curiously. “I’m wondering if there’s a way to increase the distance we can sense each other from? Like stretching a muscle.”
“I don’t know,” Taegan said, the question taking him by surprise. “I’ve never thought of it before. Maybe? Why?”
A strange sort of hesitance and worry bubbled through the bond for a moment before Zorvut seemed to pull his emotions away, though a frown was visible on his face.
“It could come in handy if something bad were to happen,” he said simply. Taegan mirrored his frown, his brows furrowing.
“What does that mean?” he pressed, and Zorvut glanced away.
“If we get separated for any reason,” he said. “Maybe I’m overthinking, Taegan. But we have few allies, and many who would like to do us harm. ”
“Is that what all this was about?” Taegan asked, tilting his head. Zorvut only glanced away, but his silence was answer enough. A cold tendril of fear crept up his belly at that—the half-orc had seemed so fearless, but if he had truly been so worried this whole time… The thought of it made him balk. “Zorvut, if you were so concerned, we could have just stayed in Aefraya where we’d be safe.”
“No,” Zorvut replied firmly, shaking his head. “I wanted to do this. I need to do this. And there’s no guarantee we would have been safe there, either. It’s just best to have a plan for the worst, I think.”
Taegan did not respond, unsure of what to say. Zorvut wasn’t wrong, of course, but it was unsettling all the same to hear him discussing it so casually. He thought of how comfortable—and clean—he could be at home right at that moment, and something in his heart ached.
Zorvut glanced back over at him with a softer expression, clearly sensing his upheaval. “Have you ever been this far from the castle before?” he asked. Wordlessly, Taegan shook his head—it seemed silly, but the question only made his heart ache again. Zorvut pulled back on the reins so he stopped, and Taegan did the same so they stood side by side on the road. Gingerly, Zorvut reached out and squeezed his hand.
“I’m sorry I made you worry,” he said. “I know you’re homesick. Hopefully we’ll be heading back before you know it.”
Taegan blinked—he had not recognized it until Zorvut said it, but he was homesick. The realization felt embarrassing, and somehow sad. He glanced away, pressing a hand to his eyes that suddenly burned with tears.
“Taegan,” he heard Zorvut say softly, touching his shoulder.
“Sorry,” he said quickly, looking back up at his husband. He could still feel his eyes stinging, but no tears spilled from them. “I just… I really think I’ll feel better after a bath.”
Zorvut paused, surprised, then let out a soft sigh with a half-smile and released his shoulder.
“Let’s get a move on, then. Maybe we can reach the inn sooner tomorrow if we’re fast.”
* * *With some effort, they made decent time and the little roadside inn came into view well before sunset the next day. It was a simple, two-story wood building with a stable on the opposite side of the road, and the trees had been cleared out around them but became more dense in the distance. The sight of it made Taegan feel equal parts relieved and nervous—relieved to be off the road even for just one night, but anxious that they might be recognized or worse now that they would be in the presence of others.
“Don’t be afraid,” Zorvut said in a low murmur as they approached the stables. Taegan nodded, but before he could respond a stable boy came jogging up to them, a human boy probably no more than fourteen. His eyes were wide as he approached, but Taegan could see his gaze was locked on Graksh’t, clearly in awe of his size.
“Sirs,” he said, pulling his gaze away from the massive horse to nod politely at each of them. “I can take your horses from here.”
“Certainly,” Taegan said, dismounting and handing the boy Ember’s reins. Zorvut glanced between the boy and Graksh’t, then said,
“I’ll help. He can be nervous around strangers.” The boy shrank back from the horse at that, but nodded and waved for Zorvut to follow him to the stable. The half-orc glanced back at Taegan, and the thought of wait rang through his head clear as day, and he nodded in agreement.
From what he could see, the inn seemed quiet but not totally empty. There were a few other sets of hoof prints to and from the stable that seemed relatively fresh, and he could faintly hear music coming from the inn across the road. That was probably the best he could hope for, he told himself—better than a bustling busy inn where anyone could recognize them, but someplace totally abandoned could have its own downsides. Better to just be two of a handful of faces rather than the only patrons for the day, guaranteed to stick in the innkeeper’s memory.
Zorvut rejoined him shortly, stretching his arms as he walked out from the stable. He met Taegan’s gaze and smiled faintly, and they walked together to the doors of the inn. The entrance led to an open dining area with a long bar on the opposite wall with two humans, a man and a woman, working behind it. The woman called out to them cheerfully in greeting as they entered. In the far corner to their left, a dwarf was perched on a stool, strumming a lute and singing. He looked to be older, with gray hair and a long, salt-and-pepper beard, but wore a coat that was an ostentatious shade of purple. There appeared to be only one patron in the dining hall at the moment, a human man dressed in leathers and furs who glanced briefly up at them as they entered, then back down at his table where he appeared to be fletching an arrow.
“Welcome, welcome,” the woman from behind the bar called out to them. “Rooms for the evening?”
“Just one room, please,” Taegan said as they approached, and the woman nodded, pulling up a ledger and a charcoal pencil.
“One room, two beds, then,” she said, glancing through the parchment. Taegan glanced over his shoulder at Zorvut, who shrugged nonchalantly. But the trickle of amusement that came through their bond made him suppress a grin.
“Separate beds,” he agreed, hoping his bemused tone was not as obvious to the woman as it seemed to him. “And if you have baths available…”
“Of course!” the woman agreed. “Let me just get your names, and I can have a bath drawn for you now if you’d like.”
Taegan blinked. How had they not decided on fake names yet? He could feel a spike of anxiety from Zorvut as well, so he forced himself to open his mouth before their sudden silence became suspicious.
“You can put it under the name Alain,” he blurted.
“Very well then, Alain,” the woman said, and Taegan regretted the choice immediately, the sound of his late father’s name sending a dull ache through him like prodding a scar. “I’ll go have a bath prepared for you now. You’re in room eleven, which is upstairs at the end of the hall on the left. The bathrooms are down here on the first floor. I’ll come get you when the bath is drawn. Anything you need in the meantime, you can just ask my husband here, Danyel. I’m Nessie, if you need me.”
“Thank you, Nessie,” Taegan said, giving a terse nod. She grinned back and left the bar, leaving behind her husband who gave them a polite nod though his expression was much more bored. He could feel Zorvut watching him, but kept his gaze on the human barkeeper.
“Something to drink?” the man, Danyel, asked, noticing his stare.
“Wine for me, whatever is your best,” he replied quickly, then gestured toward Zorvut. “And whatever he’d like as well.”
Zorvut paused, then came to Taegan’s side to sit next to him. “Just ale for me, please,” he replied, and the man nodded, bending down to retrieve the bottles. He felt Zorvut’s hand underneath the bar gently squeeze his knee, and he gave the hand a few soft pats before lifting both his elbows to rest on the bar top. After a moment, Zorvut’s hand pulled away as well.
Danyel presented them with their drinks, and Taegan gave him a few coins, waving away the change. He took a sip of the wine, and nearly spat it out immediately with how sour it was. If this was truly their finest option, he was loathe to try their common drink. It had no depth of flavor and may as well have been vinegar; he forced himself to swallow, sputtering and coughing afterward, before primly pushing the goblet across the bar. Next to him, Zorvut was stifling a chuckle.
“Not what you’re used to?” he murmured, grinning down at him. Taegan cleared his throat, glancing away.
“No, it’s not,” he said. His cheeks were flushed with embarrassment, but the other patrons seemed to pay them no mind, and the human simply shrugged and took the goblet away, replacing it with a cup of cool water. Taegan took a hesitant sip from that; it tasted like common well water, but it would do.
Zorvut downed his own ale effortlessly, then placed a hand on Taegan’s shoulder.
“I’ll go to our room and get everything unpacked,” he said, and Taegan nodded. “Enjoy your bath.”
“Thank you,” he replied, and managed a slight smile as the half-orc took the bag that was slung around his shoulders. With that, Zorvut stood and made his way toward the staircase, disappearing up the steps.
The barkeeper glanced over at Taegan as Zorvut walked away, a slightly curious lift of his eyebrow the only expression of emotion he had displayed so far.
“Awful friendly for a half-orc,” he remarked. Taegan pursed his lips and nodded, glancing down into his cup of water. The less anyone knew about them, the better. “You must be payin’ him well.”
Taegan hesitated, then agreed with another nod. “Of course. He’s a very skilled fighter and has never let me down.”
The man whistled, wiping clean the wine goblet he had just emptied and rinsed. “Oh, I’m sure. Even the most desperate bandits wouldn’t want to square up with a big fella like that. That’s a good choice, even considerin’… Well, you know.”
“Of course,” Taegan agreed again, though he had no idea what the man was implying. It was a toss-up whether he was making some slight against orcs in general or perhaps the ongoing conflict between orcs and elves. Either way, he would be glad when the conversation was over.
As if answering his silent prayer, Nessie emerged from around the corner, carrying a clean towel with her.
“Sir Alain,” she said with a cheerful grin. “The bath’s all ready for you, good and hot. Right this way.”
“Thank you very much,” he breathed with relief, following her quickly.
“We’re lucky enough to have a soap-maker in the next town over,” she prattled in the mindless sort of tone that indicated she’d said the same thing in the same way a thousand times before. “So we’ve got a few different scent options, and it’s not the hard scentless stuff you’d have to order in from the city in bulk. We’ve got rose, lavender, and spearmint. The spearmint’s my favorite, if you ask me.”
They followed the hallway around a corner to a wooden door which she pushed open, revealing a small tiled room with a decent sized copper bathtub, a shelf stacked with trays of bars of soap, and a table with a few folded towels. The tub was filled to the brim with water and steaming with heat.
“Now there’s the bucket for rinsing, a clean robe for you, and a tray to put your dirty clothes,” she continued, pointing around the room. “We don’t have a full laundry service, begging your pardon, but plenty of guests just wash their clothes in the bathwater once they’re done. Any towels or robes you use can be left here or in your rooms, we’ll clean it up. Now if your manservant wanted a bath too, I can go haul out the oversize tub, so just let me know. Anything else I can get for you?”
“No, thank you very much,” Taegan replied quickly, and luckily the woman seemed to recognize his eagerness for her to be gone as she simply smiled and nodded.
“Just give us a shout if you need anything else,” she said as she turned to go, and closed the door behind her. It took only a moment for Taegan to peel off his clothes and immerse himself in the water, sending the overflow splashing down onto the tile.
The warmth of it alone was comforting beyond measure, and he closed his eyes in a brief moment of bliss. It was nowhere near as comfortable as his bath at home—he had to bend his legs to fit so his knees weren’t quite submerged, and he missed the familiar scent of rosewater he would often bathe in. But compared to a week on the road with no warm water at all, it would certainly do for now.
He reached for the soap, going for the faintly pink-tinted bar in hopes the rose scent would be close enough, but even as he brought it up to his face the floral scent was barely detectable at all. A frown of disappointment crossed his lips as he put it back, instead reaching for the slightly greenish soap. Luckily, the mint was a stronger scent, and he set to work scrubbing away the grime and sweat and dust of the past week.
By the time he had cleaned up, though, the novelty of it was wearing off and was replaced with the same bone-deep homesickness he had only just been able to put a name to the previous day. He missed his own bath. He missed his own room, his private quarters, their leisurely walks around the garden. The thought of it was so painful his eyes welled up with tears, which only served to make him feel more ashamed.
He liked to think he was not spoiled, but the more logical part of him knew that he must be—how could he not be spoiled, as a prince, the heir to the throne, an only child at that? It felt so foolish to be upset that it wasn’t his bath, but here he was, a spoiled brat crying over a lack of rosewater in a too-small bathtub. All he wanted was to go home. He tried to pull his thoughts away from the bond, shielding it from his outburst; somehow it felt even more embarrassing to think of Zorvut sensing his moment of weakness.
Taegan let himself hold on to the homesickness for a little longer, until he eventually dunked his head under the water both to wash his hair and also to destroy any evidence of his tears on his face. Then he got out and dried off, and after a moment of consideration, plunged his dirty clothes into the now-tepid water. It was only a quick fix, but the water was satisfyingly murky when he wrung them out. Wrapped in a plain white robe, he gathered his things and made his way out of the bathroom, up the stairs and to room eleven.
When he entered the room, Zorvut was sitting on the floor but sprang up quickly as the door opened. It was a plain room with just a small writing-desk under a single window in one corner, a chest of drawers and a clothing rack in the other. Centered on the far wall there were two small beds in wobbly-looking wooden frames, which Taegan realized with a slight smile that Zorvut must have pushed together.
“That was quick,” Zorvut said, returning his smile, then hesitating. “Are you all right? You seemed… well, upset.”
Taegan winced. He must not have been quick enough to hide his thoughts. “I’m all right,” he replied quickly. “Just more tired than I thought, I suppose. And… I don’t know. I just miss home.”
Zorvut’s expression softened, and he nodded. “Me too,” he murmured, then gestured toward the beds. “I laid out clean clothes for you. I hope you don’t mind.”
Taegan’s heart swelled and ached. It was a small gesture, but a comforting one. “Of course I don’t mind,” he said, shaking his head. “Thank you.” He hung his wet clothes on the rack to dry, along with the robe, and put on the clean breeches and loose shirt Zorvut had set out for him.
“A bath sounds good to me too,” Zorvut said, watching him dress.
“The innkeeper said she had a larger-sized tub for you,” Taegan said as he buttoned his shirt, then hesitated. “Don’t be too long. I was hoping we could… um…”
Zorvut raised an eyebrow at that. “The walls seem awfully thin for that, Taegan.”
“No, no!” he protested, flushing with embarrassment. “Not that, I just wanted to… I don’t know. Well, nevermind.”
Zorvut tilted his head, seeming to consider his words. “Well, I’ll still be quick,” he said simply, and Taegan nodded. His cheeks still felt warm as Zorvut stepped out of the room.
When he was alone, he climbed into one of the beds and wrapped himself in a blanket, staring out the small window. There wasn’t much of a view, just the trees outside of the inn. He watched them sway in the breeze, and imagined the towering trees surrounding the castle, the wooded path of the archery range, and the gentle swaying of the curtain of willow branches in front of the tree temple. When he let his eyes lose focus, he could almost trick them into seeing the familiar shapes.
He had dozed off by the time the door opened again, causing him to sit up and blink groggily. Zorvut had returned in clean clothes, his short hair still damp and sticking up in some spots, and he carried a tray of food with him as he entered. He smiled at the sight of Taegan, who sleepily smiled back.
“My love,” he said softly as he closed the door behind him. “I brought you dinner. I know it’s a bit early, but I figured we could turn in early too.”
“That sounds great,” Taegan replied, and they crowded around the small writing table to eat. Zorvut set out a selection of breads and butter, roasted vegetables, and warm meat from the tray. It was all rather plain and unremarkable, but it was more pleasant than the smoked meats and hardtack that had made up the bulk of their meals on the road.
“Are you feeling better?” Zorvut asked when they were done. Taegan nodded.
“I have one more favor to ask,” he said after a moment’s hesitation. “I want… Will you just hold me for a bit?”
Zorvut smiled, then bit back a chuckle.
“Was that all? You don’t need to ask,” he replied, his voice a low rumble, and in one effortless movement had lifted Taegan up and carried him to the bed. He laid down gingerly, shifting around the spot where the two mattresses were pushed together, and after some adjusting they settled with each laying on their sides, Zorvut’s arms wrapped around Taegan and Taegan’s face pressed into Zorvut’s chest.
“Your feet are hanging off the end,” Taegan whispered, and he felt Zorvut grin.
“I’m used to it,” he replied with a shrug. His hands rubbed soothing circles along Taegan’s back, and he closed his eyes, relaxing into the embrace. After a long moment, Zorvut’s voice came again, rumbling through his chest. “I’m sorry this has been so hard for you. I know it must be difficult to be away from home, from your father. I love you very much. And I want you to know I’m very thankful you came with me.”
Taegan nodded, unable to find the words to respond.
“I don’t know if I would have been able to make it here on my own,” Zorvut continued. “But when you’re with me, I feel strong. And brave. Like I can do anything.”
“You are strong,” Taegan protested, pressing himself closer to Zorvut’s chest. “And brave. Even without me. But I… I’m glad I came too. I think I would be much worse off right now if we were apart. I’ll be okay.”
He felt Zorvut kiss the top of his head in response, and he closed his eyes. The safety of his arms and the even, comforting rise and fall of his chest quickly lulled him to sleep.