"Sorry, what?" I must have misheard.
"The ceremonial club," Mudag continues. "He will strike you with it and knock you out so he can steal you away."
I blink at him in shock. "You did that to Agakor's mother?"
Mudag scratches at his chin. "Of course. She wouldn't stop fighting me otherwise."
"I don't think an orc wedding is a good idea," Agakor begins.
His father ignores him, his focus on me. "The next night, the chosen bride must try to escape her new husband, or else she's deemed weak."
I'd want to escape someone that clubbed me over the head, so I understand that part of the ceremony very well. "And after that?"
Mudag shrugs. "Once she's been sufficiently tamed, the chief will declare her a worthy bride." He leans in and winks at me, becoming almost cheerful. "I'm the chief, so just put up a good fight. Make my son work for it."
Oh dear.
He claps an awkward Agakor on the shoulder. "Not to worry, my son. She looks like a fine-sized lass, able to take a good clubbing."
I don't know whether to laugh or to cry. It sounds like a compliment. Poor Agakor looks frustrated as his father strolls toward the keep, eyeing it as if checking to see if it passes inspection. He leans in and rubs a dirty finger over a scratch on the heavy wooden doors, frowning to himself. Taking their cue from their leader, the other orcs stream inside, leaving me in the courtyard with Agakor and his amused guardsmen.
Agakor sighs heavily, running a hand down his face and pulling at his lower lip. "My father's timing leaves much to be desired. I'm sorry about this. You know I would never club you over the head."
He sounds extremely offended on my behalf. My lips twitching, I offer, "You'd club me somewhere else, then? Perhaps a shoulder?"
"No clubbing anywhere." Agakor gives me an exasperated look that manages to be tinged with fondness. "Woman, you will be the death of me. I've been agonizing over having to wait three days to make you mine and now you want to do an orkish ceremony?"
Oh. How is it that this man is so damned sweet? How does he make me yearn for the marriage bed so dearly when a few days ago I was terrified of marrying someone as fearsome looking as him? I move forward and press my hand to the front of his tunic, smoothing the fine embroidery I added late last night, because I wanted him to look fancy in front of everyone. "Don't you want to be married in the way of your father's people?"
He leans in, giving me a lascivious look. "I want to be between your thighs."
My face heats. "I want that, too."
Agakor bites back the low groan building in his chest and glances around at the courtyard. "Two more days until the full moon. I must be three kinds of a fool to even consider such a thing." He rubs his knuckles up and down my sleeve. "I wanted you in my bed tonight. Is that greedy of me?"
I bite my lip. "I could still be in your bed tonight," I whisper. "We could sneak out and see each other. Touch each other."
He groans this time, loudly. "Iolanthe. How did I get lucky enough to win you?"
"You paid a lot of coin to my father? Is that luck?"
The look he gives me is downright pleased. "That he accepted the offer of a half-orc to marry his beloved daughter? I do consider that luck."
Oh. Does he think my father valued me? If only he knew the truth. My father saw me as a pawn to be used to marry off, and the moment I grew too tall and plain to be useful, he was done with me. I bite back a grimace. "Agakor, I'm afraid he might have made you think I'm more precious to him than I am. My father was glad to be rid of me. To him, I'm a burden." I pat the embroidery on his chest again. "Now I'm your burden."
Agakor doesn't look convinced, though. He frowns down at me as if the words I'm saying don't quite register. "Your father is mounting an army to steal you back, Iolanthe. I didn't want to worry you, but it's true. He's hiring every mercenary in the area and I suspect he'll be coming here soon and demanding your return."
That does not sound like my father. I shake my head. "If he's coming here, it's for one reason only, and it's not me. It's your money, Agakor. Your coin. He knows you're rich and probably thinks he can take it from you with a big enough force."
"Perhaps." He seems skeptical.
"I've known him for thirty years," I say, my tone light. "Trust me in that I know his motivations."