Thugari hesitated when Belen pointed at the cold slop on the table. The female's gaze narrowed when Thugari didn't obey her. Envisioning her bowl heading for a gate guard, Thugari limp-jogged to the table and sat on the bench, swallowing a whimper when she raised her arm to cradle the bowl.

She shoveled the slop into her mouth, uncaring that it dribbled onto her chin and stained tunic. Even with no honey, salt, or anything else to add flavor, it was still delicious.

"Haraton Castle doesn't feed thieves, and if you can steal, then you have too much idle time." Belen gripped Thugari's shoulder with her dirty nails digging in above her collarbone. "Lady Arob assures me it 'twas you she saw, half-breed." Spittle layered her fat bottom lip.

Thugari muffled her moan as Belen's fingers dug into her skin. "I swear on my father's life, I did not steal it, mistress. Spellbinder Uzul agrees."

"That human!" Her top lip curled in derision. "Wearing clothes even as he serves Lord Varthug." She made a grating noise in the back of her throat and spat.

Thugari stared at the greenish glob on the dirty floor. Bile rose, and she almost pushed her bowl away. Not knowing when next she would find a meal, she forced the slop past the lump in her throat.

She should be thankful to Belen. Scrubbing the floors, the piss pots, and beating the tapestries lining the hall walls helped Thugari's back heal. But exhaustion had claimed her last night, and the need to sleep outweighed the hunger pangs wrenching her stomach. Gnash hadn't agreed, chirping her awake at all hours.

Each inch of her throbbed, her arm muscles too weak to lift the spoon for long. Trembling with every movement, she whimpered between mouthfuls, vowing to leave as soon as the sun set. Not another minute would she stay here.

She grabbed the stale bread, stuffing it inside her tunic where Gnash chirped. "Thank you for your kindness, Mistress Belen."

The only reason those hated words slipped out was to lure Belen into believing all was well. If Thugari didn't thank the female, she would be cleaning attics and scrubbing the guardhouse until the wee hours of the morning.

While wiping her wrist across her mouth, Thugari squared her shoulders. Decision made. She rinsed her rough-hewn bowl in the wash bucket and shook off the droplets. It would take moments to pack. Six years of planning had gone into this escape, since Uzul had first used the brand on her neck. The sweet taste of freedom coated her tongue. She sucked in a deep breath, ignoring her twinging back.

Each jarring step as she climbed the stairs lanced fire across her back. Every pulse of agony reinforced her decision to leave. As she pushed open her door, the creak announcing her arrival, the shadow of a male spilled across her floor. Stilling, she studied her father's rigid posture and his hands clasped behind him. Not that she could recall when he last visited her.

"My chief." She removed her bowl and bread, placing them on the makeshift shelf formed by missing stones in the walls.

Gnash scampered after the bread, and she gripped the ledge for him. As he nibbled on the chunk clasped in his paws, she kept her breathing even.

Her father had no reason to be there, unless he believed she had stolen her dear sister's locket and planned to punish her further.

He studied her, running his matching silver-gray gaze over her before resting on her face. His presence dominated her room. His tribal markings swirled across his bare chest, crisscrossed with leather straps. His hair, black like her own, fell down his back, braided with ribbons and beads. Bones of sentimental value peppered his adornments, and soft fur from far-off lands protected his skin from the leather belt holding up his billowing calve-length pants.

She didn't have any markings, not deserving such clanship. Nor did she have anything to spare her skin. She was an outsider, neither wanted nor valued. The distance between them was insurmountable and would remain so, no matter how much she wished otherwise.

"You look so much like your mother." His shoulders drooped into a slouch before he stiffened.

Doubtful—she had his nose. Her mother had been beautiful, before the sickness drained life's effervescence from her. Thugari remained silent, choosing not to doom herself. He was there for a reason, and guessing wrong might lead to punishment.

"Uzul told me about your...chastisement." He curled his lips in disgust, parting them around his tusks, and she couldn't say which irritated him more—finding out, or that she had suffered.

She suspected it was the former. For appearances, he acted the doting father. She smothered a snort. Appearances? His people had expected him to toss the runt out into the cold to die, and all knew of her mistreatment. Doting implied silks, jewels, and other expensive gifts. Curse it, she would settle for warmth, food, and Moon forbid, a little kindness.

"Should I send for the healer?" He hesitated, as if the expense, the inconvenience of it was too much.

Yet he had offered, which almost unraveled the stitched scar across her heart. A sharp pain traveled from her belly to her chest and throbbed there. The slop threatened to continue the journey up her throat. She swallowed, taking a moment to crush her hope. He didn't care, had never bothered with her before. There was no way in the netherworld she would accept help from him now. That time had passed.

"Thank you, my chief, for your kind offer. I am well."

"A neighboring son has shown interest in...mating you."

She froze. No, she wouldn't be chattel—bartered to strengthen his position.

He took her silence as acquiescence. "I would need to offer you clanship."

Her breath caught, and tears stung her eyes. The one thing she wanted and he offered it in lieu of her body? Pinching her lips, she fought for control, wanting to rail at him, to pummel his marked chest with her fists.

"I am a slave." She gritted her teeth as she gathered her courage. "Clanship is not required."

She met his gaze. It was disrespectful of her, but she wanted him to remember her, to wonder why she challenged him now. His jaw tightened, and a pulse ticked at its base. When his nostrils flared, she didn't look away. This farewell might garner another bruise, a broken nose, loose teeth, but she stood firm.

Goodbye, father.

Despite the clenching of his fist, he didn't strike her but strode toward the door. There he hesitated, his grip on the doorframe splintering the ancient wood. "Instruct Belen to summon the healer if and when needed." Then he was gone. His thumping steps echoed up the stairwell.

Thugari sat on the edge of the bed, dazed by his kindness in offering a healer twice in one day. Fear skittered along her spine. But she wouldn't serve him, not for clanship or to bring honor to Nehrakgu. She threw a few more belongings into her hemp carry-all. Nothing scared her more than a change in the status quo. She didn't expect more from him, but hope shredded her stern admonishments and pain-filled memories. Perhaps if she stayed, he might love her? If she served him well to whoever he had sold her to? She shook her head.

Swiping away her tears, she undressed then yanked on her best pants, her cleanest tunic, and her stolen coat—thick enough to ward off the chill and hide her curves. She swept her oversized woolen cap off a hook, taking time to cover her ears and braided hair. With her worn boots pinching her feet, she grabbed her carry-all, tucked Gnash and the bread inside her tunic.

At each step down the stairs, she hesitated, listening for Belen, her heart thrumming in her ears. As Thugari passed the busy kitchen maids, she snatched a knife on the way to the medicinal garden.

Dusk was on the horizon, its stark shadows aiding her. She couldn't steal a horse. They would hunt her if she did. It was best to escape on foot. Sliding the knife into her boot, she kept her gaze on the gate guards, their axes resting at their hips. She lengthened her strides as Uzul approached them. As soon as the ether spellbinder walked through on his way to Bire, the guards would break for dinner, leaving the gates clear.

When his robed figure disappeared and the guards scampered into the hall, she slipped out of the shadows. The three horsemen riding into the inner courtyard froze her, leaving her visible to them. She gaped, drawn to the male on a black steed. His bearing was regal yet lethal. Those broad shoulders, the last rays glinting off his sword, his hood enshrouding his face mesmerized her.

She couldn't dart for cover. Any sudden movement would gain his attention. Instead, she ducked her head and gathered the reins of their horses, intending to lead them to the stables. No one noticed servants.

She peeked at the strangers. Two orcs and a foreigner in black cloaks denoting their affiliation to the Council. Rumors of an impending lawbringer visit hadn't reached the kitchen. They had to be passing through Haraton Castle. She scowled. Why did they have to choose this night?

Fully clothed orcs were a rare occurrence. Black polished boots, soft leather breeches, well-crafted saddles on magnificent war steeds spoke of wealth. This meant heavy purses. Until she reached a village where no one would recognize her, every coin would aid her. Only then could she sell her stolen treasure.

One of the strangers was a female orc, a magus in rich, deep purple. She was breathtaking. Thugari had never seen anyone quite so exquisite. She lowered her gaze and hefted her carry-all, wincing as it rubbed across her wounds. A hiss escaped her before she could smother it.

"Boy."

A deep voice thrummed through her, sparking a reaction along her skin and a whimper past her clenched lips. Gnash squeaked, and she stroked him through her tunic. She didn't want him leaping out and spooking the horses. Between her aching muscles and the new scabs on her back, she didn't appreciate the frisson of fear. Or was that a shiver of excitement? There was a dark element to the male's voice—authoritative and commanding.

"I'm speaking to you, boy."

"Yes, lawbringer?" She chuffed, deepening her voice, trying not to gape at the black-encased chest missing beads and hiding tribal markings. Nothing peeked above his collar. He must have sacrificed much to belong to the lawbringers.

"A coin for your trouble." He grabbed her wrist, dragging a yelp from her as pain shot up her arm.

She didn't raise her gaze to his, no matter how his touch burned her through his leather gloves. As he placed a coin on her palm, she unraveled his purse with her other hand, tucking it inside her coat. Even in that brief moment, she tested the hefty weight of it.

"Thank you, lawbringer." She shifted away and regathered the reins.

Keeping her head dipped, she smirked as she led the horses away. Relief warred with curiosity. She would love to sneak a glimpse of his face, to see whether he matched the smooth timbre of his voice.

Some things were best left alone, and she hurried to the stables, whispering a human poem to the horses when they whinnied in greeting. Time was running out for her. She couldn't afford to see the horses cared for other than securing them in empty stalls and slipping feed bags over their heads. A quick rummage through the saddles left her with a halffull wineskin, a satchel of food, a few silver coins, and a black medallion that pulsed a greeting.

She debated taking the sword, but in the end, decided to leave it behind before a stablehand stumbled upon her. As beautiful as the piece was, she couldn't wield it, and it was cumbersome to carry.

With one last glance behind her and the coarse wood of the southern gates under her palm, she slipped out of the castle. A skip-jog blended her into a stream of departing wagons heading for Bire. She broke off and wove between the wooden huts, cutting across the farmed land to the forest's tree line.

Running her fingers over the bark, from tree to tree, she searched for the etchings she had made on one of her many mushroom hunts. Although, she didn't go too far into the forest, not when it took hours to reach the center. If she stayed away for longer than two hours, Belen sent a warrior to find her. Hunting mushrooms meant her other chores weren't done.

The moonlight filtered through the canopy, drenching her in silver. She tilted her face to the sky. Since she was a girl, the night empowered her, imbued her body with energy, and filled her soul to bursting capacity. This night, with its sounds forming music too breathtaking for words and a sweetness to the air, she reveled in the swell of emotion engulfing her. The urge to strip gripped her, to dance naked beneath its silvery glow.

She broke the daze with a shake of her head, the sense of loss squeezing her gut. Using her fingers to find the etchings, she navigated the forest, making inane observations to a twittering Gnash. No one screamed her name or demanded she attend to her chores. No more smacks, beatings, or reprimands awaited her.

Yet as she meandered through the shadows, each sound reverberated through her, sparking her imagination. Wind rustling the leaves made her jump, sharp noises disrupting the whispers of the forest made her dive for cover, squashing poor Gnash, as well. She landed on her back, slammed her shoulders into trunks, tripped over unseen roots, and low-hanging branches snagged her cap.

As hot darts of agony and weakness assailed her, her steps faltered, and clambering to her feet became harder. On a sob, she accepted her harsh breathing and dripping sweat as demands to rest. She mumbled promises each time she trudged onward until she stumbled upon an alcove within a copse of trees.

Lying on her side, she curled into the protection of the roots and rested her head on her carry-all. The chill of the thick leaf bed didn't penetrate her jacket, but its dew soaked her pants. She didn't care. It was softer than her hay mattress, made more blissful now she was free.

With the comfort of Gnash's presence and exhaustion trembling her limbs, sleep tempted her. A few hours, she vowed. Then her bid for freedom would continue. She wasn't a slave, nor a servant. She was the illegitimate daughter of a chief, but if anyone captured her, none of that would matter. 

Author's Note: Ire of Silver is available for purchase.

https://books2read.com/u/mV8KaA