Page 128 of Halfling
“If we can fish him out of whatever bottle he’s at the bottom of, my brother will be relieved to see you,” said Aislinn airily. “He was quite concerned about you when you first disappeared. I’d never seen him so worried. Hopefully it means there are no more hard feelings that you…” Aislinn coughed delicately, “declined his suit.”
Sorcha made a noncommittal sound in her throat, looking over her shoulder to find Orek behind them. He met her wide, pained eyes with a grim look of his own. Sorcha’s lips thinned, and he knew she was biting her cheek, literally keeping the words in.
Orek gave her a supportive nod.
If it is him, we’ll deal with it. Together.
Aislinn eventually guided them to join the men, who were now accompanied by an older male. This one did look like what Orek imagined of a human noble, dressed in rich brocade and furs. Though he was older, his shoulders and chest were still wide with muscle, and a scar traced the side of his face to just below his right ear. His hair when younger may have been a ruddy blond, but now it’d gone almost white.
The man turned to mark their arrival and a smile appeared under his thick beard when he saw Sorcha.
“My dear girl,” he said, opening his arms to draw her into a fierce hug, “it is so good to see you safe.”
“Thank you, Lord Darrow.”
“Your father tells me you’ve quite the tale to tell. But first, introduce me to the man who brought you back to us.”
Sorcha held her hand out to Orek. He stepped forward for Lord Darrow’s perusal, holding the man’s assessing gaze. After a long moment, the man offered his hand.
Orek gripped it with his own, firmer than he had Aislinn’s, and Darrow nodded in approval.
“You’re a good man,” said the lord. “We’re all grateful to you for bringing Sorcha safely home.”
Orek nodded. “I did what I had to.”
Lord Darrow considered him another moment, and Orek knew what he’d say before he said, “I’ve never heard of a halfling before. Your mother…?”
“Captured by slavers.”
Darrow’s mouth fell back into his beard unhappily. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is she…?”
“She escaped when I was still young.”
When he offered no more, Darrow accepted his answer with a nod.
“I’m sorry to hear of your mother’s suffering. I hope life led her down a happier path.”
“She was why I knew what would happen if I didn’t get Sorcha out of camp. I couldn’t let it happen again.”
“No indeed.” Darrow sighed, turning to Ciaran. “Well, my friend, it sounds like there’s still much to do.”
Ciaran nodded gloomily.
Waving them forward, Darrow mounted a shallow dais to sit on a large wooden throne of sorts. Aislinn stepped up the stairs to stand beside him.
“I want to hear it all, everything you can tell me,” said Darrow.
As Sorcha drew in breath and gathered herself to recount her experiences again, Orek took hold of her hand. She leaned into his comfort as she began to speak, something that didn’t slip past her friend. Aislinn marked it with a smile and winked at Orek.
Sorcha told her tale from the beginning, answering any question Darrow or Aislinn had as she went. Orek supplied more information where he could.
Darrow listened with sympathy plain in his face, and he didn’t press Sorcha on parts of the story that hurt to tell. He was as interested as Ciaran in what kind of slavers would have planned and executed such an abduction, but he didn’t force her to relive every terrifying moment of her capture.
It was when they had reached their river crossing that first night when one of the side doors flew open with abang. Every eye cut to the door to watch a young man stride into the great hall, a haughty expression marring his fine features.
A head of dark hair was cropped close near his ears but flopped over his forehead messily. Dark brows arched as if he found everything amusing, and his shirt had been haphazardly buttoned and tucked into his braies. He strode to the dais as proud as a cock in a henhouse, even though his stride wobbled. He didn’t seem to notice anyone else in the hall as he made his way through, and he didn’t even have to get close for Orek to smell the stale tang of alcohol on him.
“Really, Jerrod?” Aislinn snapped. “You had to come straight from the drinking den?”
