Page 99 of Claimed By the Orc Captain
"I want to teach them things," she said. "Leatherwork, like my uncle taught me. And your mother's tongue. And how to read, even if the settlement doesn't have many books."
"We can get books. Trade caravans bring them sometimes." His hand found her belly again, his palm covering the spot where their child had kicked hours before. "And I'll teach them to track. To climb. To read the weather in the mountains."
"To carve?"
"If they want." His voice was soft. "Though they'll have to learn from someone better than me."
"Teach them anyway." She settled the carving on her chest, between her breasts, where it rose and fell with her breathing.
The fire crackled. The song outside rose and fell. And Delia Stonefang, who had once been cargo in a wagon, who had once believed she was too much and not enough, who had run into the arms of a monster and found her home, closed her eyes and let herself rest.
Spring would come eventually. The snows would melt, the passes would open, and their child would be born into a world that was harsh and beautiful and theirs.
But that was months away.
Tonight, there was only this: Ralvar's heartbeat beneath her ear, her child's presence against her palm, and the deep certain knowledge that she was exactly where she was meant to be.
Delia Stonefang smiled in the darkness.
And dreamed of spring.
She came to Northwatch carrying her dead brother's letter and a three-month assignment. She didn't plan to stay. She didn't plan forhim.
The most feared warchief in the Iron Wilds has never wanted a woman the way he wants her. And he has no idea what to do about that.
