Page 48 of The Orc's Innocent Plaything

I missed her that night.

And again the third night.

It had become a pattern, for her to sleep in my bed during the day then sit up with her niece while her sister slept. But by the fourth day after wee Ella’s birth, I guessedsomething was wrong. Myra was distracted and worried, Mkaalad was unusually somber, even when he held his daughter, and Nan didn’t speak at all.

I tucked Myra into bed then went to prepare for the council meeting.

‘Twas the meeting when the clan would join us and air grievances and concerns. I was only half-thinking of what needed to be discussed—Auld Klorbkal was sure to bring up the Battleborn threat again, and I would have to find a way to tell him nay again—because my mind and heart were tucked in beside my Mate.

Who didn’t know she was my Mate.

The meeting began in late afternoon with discussion of plans for planting and shearing. The longer the debates went on, the more I wished I was in my forge. Give me a hammer and a piece of metal any day! I hated this blathering on.

Then, halfway through a debate on the best trading partners for wool, I caught a familiar scent. I stood with my arms crossed, leaning against one of the supports in the back of the Hall, while most of the council sat around the fire or were spread on the benches with their families. As I watched, a group of women hurried to sit on the back row of the benches on the other side of the fire.

Myra’s eyes met mine over the flames, and I could see the worry in them.

The wool discussion went on longer than it needed, but I couldn’t stop staring at my Mate, feeling her tension—feeling the tension from everyone I loved.

Finally, during a lull in the debate, a voice rang out.

“I have a concern.”

The clan turned to watch Nan—looking older than usual, or mayhap just tired—limping toward the Council Hall. I held up a hand to forestall any other discussion.

“What is it, Nan?”

With a sigh, she stopped near the fire and glanced about, meeting the eyes of each person, but lingering on me.

“I need more sea holly.”

An herb? She’d come to the council about anherb? I slowly straightened.

“Explain, please.”

Another sigh. “Avaleen isnae…” Her gray head shook mournfully. “She is no’ recovering properly.”

The worried whispers that went through the clan were echoed by the tightening in my stomach.

“In what way?” I asked what we were all thinking.

“Her bleeding is strong, stronger than I’ve seen. The bairn was large.”

Across the fire, Myra shot to her feet. Her hands were gripped together, but with her straight shoulders and lifted chin, I guessed I was the only one who saw her fear. Aye, to the rest of the world, she must have seemed strong and confident.

She was good at showing what she thought needed to be seen.

To everyone but me. I saw the truth.

“Nan,” she said calmly. “We are dosing her with yarrow tea and the shepherd’s purse concoction, aye? Her bleedingwillslow.”

She said it in such a firm way that those around her nodded. Avaleen’s bleeding couldn’t do anything as crass asnotconfirm to Myra’s certainty.

My grandmother nodded slowly.

“Aye, ‘tis true. And we’ve seen much improvement since the birth, truth be told. Yarrow and shepherd’s purse will stop the bleeding, I am certain.”

“So what is the concern?” I asked gently, not wanting anyone to believe I saw this concern as less worthy than the fooking wool debate.

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