Page 39 of Faeling
It was Asta who finally broke the silence. “If she can maintain the disguise, I suppose she could do that outside your quarters for now. I can assign her own guards—I’ll pick the men myself.”
The captain was quickly becoming her favorite sibling. Ravenna rushed to chew her bite, anxious to agree with Asta’s suggestion, but—
“No.” Vallek’s denial was swift and firm.
“It’s a reasonable compromise,” said Eydis.
Yes, she knew she’d always liked Eydis!
Slashing his hand through the air, Vallek growled, “No. She will not leave my sight.”
True ire sparked in her belly, and Ravenna stood to facehim, leaving her plate behind on a sideboard. She channeled all her frustration and fury into a volley of ferocious pokes to his damnably magnificent chest.
“You insufferable—”poke“—bullheaded—”poke“—inconsiderate—”poke“—swine! I willnotbe your prisoner!”
He opened his big mouth to meet her very clever, very judicious protests when a heavy knock echoed through the den. One of the doors to the quarters opened, and a guard poked his head in.
“Forgive me, my king. There’s an urgent message for you.”
Hrothgar’s sudden arrival sent the citadel into something of a frenzy. Ulrich and Mattias were dispatched to the southern gate with a handful of berserkers in full regalia to escort the wily old chieftain and his retinue through the city. Preferably taking the long way up.
In the meantime, Asta gathered Balmirra’s court as Eydis rallied the staff to ensure Ninevar’s Basilica and comfortable accommodations were ready. For his part, Vallek dressed in his kingly best with Bryn’s help fastening buckles and tying straps.
His grumpy mate hovered nearby, unwilling to participatebut curious enough to watch him prepare. He wasn’t too proud to show off his form in his regalia—a golden breastplate polished to a mirror shine, fine leather boots trimmed in fur, his summer linen burgundy robe embroidered with gold thread, gauntlets of leather and iron, a gorget studded with rubies, and gold ear and tusk caps.
As he turned to leave his quarters, he offered Ravenna a grin. “I will return soon,” he promised.
“I’ll be here,” she sneered. Although she meant it as a barb, her words put him at ease. His beast wasn’t so agitated knowing that she would be safely tucked away in his quarters. He even left Bryn to see to Ravenna’s every need.
By the time Ulrich and Mattias led Hrothgar’s party into the basilica, Vallek sat upon his throne to receive them, Hormhím’s handle resting against the outer side. The Balmirran court lined the central aisle, looking on in interest at the orcs from Innrinhom.
The grizzled chieftain led his retinue, mouth pulled into a scowl around his tusks. The delegation’s arrival wasn’t so surprising—he and Eydis had debated whether Hrothgar would send his own after hearing of Kennum’s offer. What was astonishing was that Hrothgar had come himself. He wasn’t known for leaving his stronghold, let alone leading peaceful delegations.
As the Innrini approached, Vallek met Hrothgar’s scowl with a smile of welcome. Sitting tall in his throne, he extended his arm in greeting.
“My friends,” he boomed, voice carrying through the basilica, “welcome to Balmirra.”
The Balmirran court bowed their heads in respect to both him and Hrothgar. The Innrini, however, were more scatteredin their response, only some choosing to bow their heads in deference to Vallek.
Hrothgar wasn’t one of them. Instead, he stepped forward, his leather armor creaking, as if he meant to climb the dais steps but stopped at their foot. Even in his old age, Hrothgar was a formidable orc, his wide shoulders still rounded in muscle. His mane and neatly trimmed beard had gone silver, and one of his eyes had gone milky with rheumatism. His jaw and forearms were littered with little scars, a brutal history of his long reign.
“This is some hill you’ve got,” he said by way of greeting.
Vallek’s smile turned sharp. Balmirra was a mountain, one which Hrothgar had visited before.
“Indeed. I hope it didn’t prove too steep for you.”
Hrothgar snorted. “These old knees have a few steps in them yet.” Squinting his rheumy eye up at Vallek, he said, “Well, no reason to belay the point. I heard you were in need of a queen, and so I’ve brought you one.”
Even though she stood off to the side of the dais in her usual place, Vallek could feel Eydis’s smug satisfaction to hear she was right.
“That is most gracious of you,” said Vallek.
“You will be spoiled for choice,” agreed Hrothgar.
The old chieftain stepped to the side, waving forward three orcesses, all dressed in gleaming green silks with silver thread, the colors of Innrinhom. Each was lovelier than the last, one tall and buxom, another with enticingly wide hips, and the third with beautiful ringlets of mahogany hair, a rarity amongst orc-kin.
“These are my daughters, Yphella and Yngrid,” he said, gesturing at the first two orcesses, “and this is my niece, Birgít.”She of the beautiful hair. “Any of them would make a fine queen.”
