"I would be pleased," he says in a low voice, "if you looked at me again."
I glance up, my cheeks hot with a blush. I've been around knights and men my entire life, but I've always been invisible. The spinster daughter, the one that runs the keep. The one that is tall and unappealing to look at. My sisters are all dainty things with pretty faces and sunny personalities, but I'm the shy one. It's hard to look him in the eye, knowing that we are to be married.
"Surely you must want to gaze upon an orc? Even for just a little?" His hard, wide mouth curves up on one side in a half-smile. "You have to be curious, unless your father told you all about me already."
I bite my lip. "He-he did not, my lord."
"Well." The orc—half-orc, I hastily correct myself—grins wider. "For one, I do have a name and I'm not a lord."
Oh, gods. He told me his name and I've already forgotten it in my panic. I fight back a whimper. "M-might you tell me again?"
"Agakor," he murmurs, his voice surprisingly gentle. "Of Clan Broketusk. No lord about it."
"What should I call you?"
"Agakor will do…or husband." He tilts his head, regarding me. "Are you upset that I'm an orc?"
Oh gods! Such a difficult question. I try to think of the right way to answer it. "I w-was surprised, I admit. But I still need to marry you."
"Need?" One of those heavy, thick brows goes up. "Is your father forcing you?"
I shake my head violently. "N-no, of course not," I lie. In truth, Father has made it quite clear how he will feel if this marriage doesn't go through, but I'm not thinking of him. I'm thinking of everyone else that will be affected should we not get the funds to save my father's keep. "Please, my lord—I mean, Agakor. My father needs this alliance desperately."
"I know." His expression grows hard. "And he sends a terrified daughter to work diplomacy. He should be ashamed."
I bite my lip. Does he think I'm terrified because he's an orc? Does he think I am appalled because of his nature? Now that I've gotten past my initial shock and spoken to him, he seems kind enough. Like he has a sense of humor that Father does not. I can make do. "If it pleases you, know that I would be terrified even if you were the most handsome human lord in the land," I admit shyly. "Probably even more terrified then."
He chuckles. "Terrified of beauty? Why is that?"
"Because that handsome lord would not want me," I say softly. "He could have anyone." I glance up at Agakor (such an orkish name) and try not to flinch as I point out, "You could have anyone. With the bride-price you are paying, you could get a younger, prettier wife—"
"I know." His gaze glitters. "But I need a lady. And like I said before, your height pleases me. So look your fill and decide if you will go through with this marriage or not, because once we leave this room, the marriage ceremonies shall begin."
I want to laugh hysterically. As if I can look at him and decide that no, I do not wish to marry him. As if there are such options open to me, a lesser noblewoman of plain face, no fortune, and far too much height. I have nothing to draw a husband, and my father has made it quite clear that if I back out of this, everyone that lives at the keep will suffer. They will be out of work, and without knights to defend my father's keep against border raiders, how long before he loses everything? At least here, I can help my people.
At least here, I am guaranteed a roof and a bed, even if I must share it with an orc.
So even though I am terrified, I clasp my hands at my waist and try to look composed. "I have not changed my mind."
"Are you certain? I do not want you screaming or weeping with terror as we marry. It won't help my reputation. I'm already feared enough as it is. I need a wife to help me improve my reputation, not destroy it entirely."
I glance up at him and I could swear he's got a hint of a wry smile on his face and…a dimple? In one greenish cheek. Oh. For some reason, that dimple decides me. No one can be truly evil and have a dimple, can they? "I promise if I weep and cry, it will be in private."
He grimaces. "Can you try to look less terrified?"
I swallow hard and drop my eyes again, only for him to touch a finger to my chin and force me to meet his gaze once more. I manage a smile, and Agakor barks a laugh at how tremulous it is. I lift my head higher, trying to look defiant. I can't believe I'm trying to convince an orc that I'm going to be a good bride for him. Oh, Belara, of all the prayers I've sent to you, why answer this one and in this manner? "I'm ready to marry."