I flinch, casting my gaze down in shame. Tears threaten, but I don't want my new husband's first sight of me to be a bright red nose, blotchy cheeks, and puffy eyes, so I do my best to fight away the urge to weep.
"Do not ruin this for me," Father hisses, leaning over me. "We need these funds desperately. If we do not get them, our knights will leave because they are not being paid. If they leave, we will be overrun by thieves and squatters within a month. Do you hear what I am saying, Iolanthe? You have to marry this man. The fate of everyone at home depends on you."
"I understand, Father," I whisper, sniffing. A tear escapes despite my best efforts.
"Quit sniveling," he snarls at me. "You're sore enough on the eyes as it is, and he needs to think he's getting a good deal with you. If I had any other daughters left to give away, I would, but all I've got left is you—"
"If you're done flattering my bride, I'd like to take a look at her," says a rich, smooth voice from behind us.
Oh, by all the gods. That must be my new husband, and he's heard Father upbraiding me. The shame of it burns, but I quickly swipe at my tears and straighten my dress, then compose myself, lifting my head. I turn, my hands clasped at my waist—
—and cannot help the gasp of horror that escapes me.
Standing behind us, wearing the same piecemeal, shoddy armor as the rest of the unruly soldiers, is an orc. He wears a lord's circlet atop his brow, and his black hair is pulled into a long tail at the base of his head. His skin is the dusky green of dried herbs and he's got one foot up on one of the benches as he leans forward, massive, hairy forearms resting atop his knee.
He smiles at us, revealing a pair of tusks—one of which is broken.
An orc. An orc lord. My father has sent me here to marry an orc.
I feel faint.
CHAPTER 3
AGAKOR
My bride is here.
From the moment I clap eyes on the woman, I know she's mine. She strides up to my keep with big, shiny eyes, her dark hair pulled into a fancy braid woven atop her head like a crown. Even though she wears a pack on her shoulders, she keeps pace with the soldiers and from a distance, I can tell that she's taller than most of them.
This pleases me, as does the sight of her up close. I wasn't sure what to expect when Lord Purnav of Rockmourn offered his last unmarried daughter in exchange for a hefty bride-price and for a peace truce between us. The money is nothing. The peace truce is easily broken, but I admit the idea of a human bride—a willing human bride—appealed to me. A bride that comes from good family would give my claim on Cragshold Keep legitimacy and would downplay my half-orc heritage and the fact that a great many of my men are orcs. Even though I purchased the keep fairly from the old lord, we're treated like squatters and brigands by the neighboring lords.
I mean for that to end, and to establish my family's hold here. I want my sons to inherit this place, and for that, I need a bride.
I watch the female with narrowed eyes, gauging her reaction.
She's frightened. Any fool could see that. She's trembling head to toe, and it's clear from her wide, dark eyes that she had no idea she was to marry a half-orc. She doesn't scream or cry or even look at her father, which is a good sign. She simply smooths her dress with nervous hands and bites on her lip, perhaps to keep from screaming.
I rub my jaw. I'm not the most attractive of men. Orc genes are strong and I look far more like my father than my Cyclopae mother. I have the large features and black, heavy brows of my father's people, and my skin is almost as green as his was. My tusks are smaller and I am slightly less in height, but to a human, I am still a towering wall of muscle, broader and thicker than even the strongest of knights. She is likely not very pleased.
But that can be fixed. "I am pleased you've brought my bride, Lord Purnav. Step forward, woman. I would look properly at you." I can already see her, but I want to see her reaction to my words. To see how she reacts now that there is no getting away from the fact that she is here to marry the half-orc lord of this disorderly keep. I want to see how many tears I'll have to deal with, and if she'll squeal in horror when I touch her. Lord Purnav promised a willing, tall, comely daughter.