Page 5 of Orc's Forbidden Claim
“Lunch?” Wren asks, jerking me out of my swirling thoughts.
“Yes, I’m starving,” I say.
“Careful, you don’t want to say that too loud. You never know who is listening,” she admonishes gently, casting her eyes about the room.
I give her a tight smile and nod understanding. My weight has been a recent topic for the rumor mill. I am not blessed like Wren and Ziva with their perfect figures that they somehow keep no matter what they eat. My thighs are too big, my hips too wide, and I have way too much ass in comparison to my chest.
On the ship, I could have had it all fixed, but I never wanted to. I didn’t want to be a plastic person. The stress of keeping up a façade was already enough without playing further into it by modifying my body to meet some stupid, impossible standards. Wren walks to my side and then puts her hand on my arm.
“I’m sorry, that was mean,” she says.
“Yes,” I agree, “but it is also true.”
She grimaces and grunts, which is amusing because that’s definitely a habit she picked up from her mate. A lady grunting would be improper for anyone but her. The Ice Queen does what she pleases. She leads the way towards the lunch room but whenwe come to an intersection, she turns to the left, opposite where the food is.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Don’t worry,” she says.
Wings of fire dance in my stomach as icy fingers trail down my spine. Does she know? Is she about to call me out? What is this?
We move through the tunnels until she pulls aside a leather door. I walk through into what seems to be a barely used storage room. There are mostly empty racks around the walls and a few crates. Everything in the room is covered in dust, which had been conspicuously disturbed before we entered. Footprints lead to the back wall and around the area. And on that back wall, along a waist-high shelf, the dust had been cleared.
I turn to face Wren. She stares with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. She moves across the room, almost in slow motion, stopping right in front of me. Her eyes bore into mine and there is no doubt in my mind.
She knows.
“Spill,” she orders.
4
KHIARA
“How long are we supposed to wait?” Dilacs grouses.
“Until the Queen says otherwise,” I answer, watching him pace the room yet again.
“And when do we see her? How is this better? They keep her from us! We cannot trust the lizards. You know this. No more than we can trust the Maulavi. What is happening back home? Do you think the Shaman is waiting? He knows she is missing. Do you think he will sit and wait?”
He storms past me yet again. I pour another drink. It’s a foul concoction that the lizards make but it burns well enough and the alcohol is calming. If nothing else that is a good thing for my brother is making me angry. As he usually does. I pour the liquid into my throat, downing the cup, then pour another.
“And what? You will sit and get drunk? Pass out while you wait for the permission of these cold-blooded monsters to do what we need to do? We must attack. Join the resistance and free our people!”
“Sit down,” I command, pouring a second glass and setting it before the empty chair opposite me.
“Sit!” he yells, slamming his fist on the table.
The liquid jostles out of the cup, spilling onto the table and trailing its way along the smooth-cut stone towards the edge. I stare at the flow, watching it make its way along until it is ready to fall to the floor.
“Dilacs,” I whisper, not looking up from the pooling alcohol.
He continues to rage. Waving his fists in the air as he storms back and forth. He is acting like a caged cudov, testing the limits of its trap, desperate to break free. Which is the problem. He’s acting like an animal. This is not the time for blind rage.
“Blasted cold-blooded monsters! We should kill every one of them. Take our Queen and return in triumph. Kill the Shaman with my bare hands. Him and all his thrice-damned Maulavi?—”
“Dilacs!” I shout, rising to my feet, both fists pressing hard against the table.
He stops and spins on his heel. His mouth contorts, baring his teeth. Balled fists rise, ready to strike. His dark eyes meet my own.