Page 18 of Shackled to the Orc

“How can you sit here and eat while those two are suffering? You’re sadistic.”

“Sit.”

I cross my arms, standing at the doorway, brimming with anger at him. His thick, black brows rise, and I remember last night what happened when I tried to refuse his order. I’ve got no desire to be manhandled and forced into the chair. It’s infuriating, but I’ve got no choice but to sit down across from him.

“Well? Are you going to answer me?”

“Eat.”

I push the bowl away from me, and his hand moves quicker than I can believe, wrapping around my wrist. His huge green fingers encircle me like a handcuff while he casually rips off a piece of warm, crusty bread, the butter melting on it, and dips it in the gravy. He stares straight into my eyes as he brings it to my mouth. I turn my head away, fighting to get my hand free, but I can’t move it an inch. He’s impossibly huge and strong, and he presses the bread against my lips, smearing butter and sauce. I try to push back against the chair, but his grip tightens, and he presses the bread harder against my mouth.

Each second is more humiliating, my cheeks flushing red, and I know this is only ending one way. Without a shred of dignity, I let my lips part, then chew on the soft, crusty bread. It’s delicious, flavors dancing on my tongue, and enjoying it only makes it worse.

I want to spit the mouthful at him, but the hard look in his eyes stops me. He’s leaning over the table, worn down, in pain, and any shred of resistance could make him snap.

I swallow.

“Good.” He releases my hand. My heart is pounding, and I want to snatch my hand back, but I slowly bring it back to me, trying to keep calm. I pick up the wooden fork and begrudgingly load it up with another bite, before he gets the idea to feed me by hand again.

“I have two days to turn those men from petty criminals into fighters.”

“And turning them against each other will help them? The one who has to sleep in the freezing cold is going to hate the other.”

“Both of them will sleep outside. The one who failed will not let his brother suffer the punishment alone. You will see. In just one day, these strangers will become comrades. Tomorrow, their training will be light, and they will recuperate. And in two days, they will die. But I will give them the only chance they have to survive. Just as I gave Peter that chance.”

He takes another bite of meat, then puts his fork down, swallowing, while I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “You think my methods cruel. You are a woman from peacetime, Maya. A healer. I know the business of death.”

“If you know so much, then why are you still here? How long have you been fighting in the pits? Ten years? That tattoo on your arm. The ridge adder. You were a chieftain. And you let them call you Khan, mocking you, making you fight like a puppet.”

He does not speak for long moments, but his expression darkens, and I regret my outburst. I know he can smell my fear.

“Do you know how one becomes chieftain?” His emerald eyes burn, bright and alive against his jade skin.

I shake my head.

“Every warrior gets a vote. But it is the Gods that choose. You spend a night alone in the pit, with the ridge adders. They wake at night. They crawl over you. One movement, one tremor, and they strike.” He cocks his head to the side. “I was chosen by the Gods. But the Gods chose wrong. I only led men of my tribe to death. The arena is my pit now. And one day, the Gods will see their mistake, and they will let the adders bite.”

He lead his tribe to death.

I understand it all now. His captivity is his own choice, his refusal of treatment for his wounds a penance.

I’m not going to be able to convince him to help me escape for his own freedom. I need another angle.

Men of his tribe.

Are there others? If every member of his tribe was slaughtered, nothing I can say will matter.

He grabs the table, using it to help him stand, then lifts the bowl, downing the contents into his mouth and swallowing. With a belch, he puts the wooden bowl down. It clatters against the table, and he limps to the door.

“Wait,” I say, my mind racing. “What about the rest of your tribe?”

“They have a new chieftain now. One who can protect them better than I did.”

“You don’t know what’s going on out there. You’re in a bubble here.”

“The outside world is not my concern.”

“The elk herds are gone, Khan. Your people rely on them. This winter, they’re not going to have any meat. I don’t know what you blame yourself for, but you’re a leader. Whatever is left of your tribe, they are going to starve, if you don’t get free.”

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