Read [Queen of Orcs 01] - King's Property for Free Online

approached. “Is that grain ready to cook?”
    “Almost,” said Dar.
    “I’ll get the water,” said Memni, grabbing a pair of buckets.
    Taren came over after Memni left. “You two friends?”
    “We served porridge to the orcs together.”
    “If you whore about like she does, you’ll serve every night. Neffa’s not blind.”
    Before Dar could speak, Taren walked away. Memni returned shortly afterward. “Build up the fire,” she said, “while I mix in the water.”
    Dar piled wood on the embers as Memni added water to turn the toasted and pulverized grain into a viscous paste. Then the two women dragged the kettle back over the flames. “Dar, would you stir?” asked Memni. “I’m beat. Sometimes I think Faus sleeps all day just so he can tup all night.”
    “And you submit to that for a handful of roots ?”
    “He gives me other things as well.”
    “Like those bruises?”
    “They’re not his fault; I shouldn’t make him mad. Faus loves me.”
    Dar was about to reply, but changed her mind. Her nights are probably easier if she thinks he loves her.
     
    The sun rose to the shouts of murdants rousing the men. Soon, soldiers carrying wooden bowls began to cluster about the cooking tent, waiting to be fed. Dar’s job was to ladle out the porridge. She had served the orcs during the soldiers’ evening meal, so this was her first encounter with most of the regiment’s men. Though she expected crudeness, she was unprepared to be the focus of it. Word had spread that there was a “fresh birdie,” and the men were eager for a look. Some didn’t confine themselves to looking and made free with their hands. Even more were free with their tongues. Their frank appraisals of Dar’s looks and whether she was “worth tupping” were made as if she were deaf or, at least, unfeeling.
    Dar tried to ignore the comments and fend off the advances as best she could. They roused a mixture of anger and humiliation that showed on her face. That only increased the attention she received. Soon, she felt like a wounded animal harried by a flock of ravens. Finally, when one man grabbed her breast as she was serving him, she snapped and threw porridge in his face.
    A soldier laughed. “Well, Varf, it seems that birdie pecks.”
    Varf’s hand shot out and seized Dar’s wrist so firmly she gasped. He pulled it upward while squeezing until she dropped the ladle. After it hit the ground, the soldier drew his knife and moved the blade toward Dar’s face. “Let’s see how well she pecks without a beak.”
    A hand gripped Varf’s shoulder. “The girl was clumsy,” said a steely voice. “I’m sure she’s sorry. Aren’t you, scabby?”
    Before Dar could mumble “yes,” Varf put his knife away. “I was just teasing, Murdant,” he said.
    The man who had intervened was older and harder-looking than the other soldiers. His leathery, sun-darkened face made his pale blue eyes seem more piercing. Those eyes fixed on Dar, but they didn’t rove over her body. “Serve the man,” the murdant said, “and this time mind you get it in his bowl.”
    Dar picked up the ladle and wiped it on her shift before serving Varf. Her hand shook so violently, she feared missing the bowl. Varf scowled, but the murdant’s presence seemed to temper his anger.
    “All right!” said the murdant in a loud voice. “Stop gaping and eat up. The lazy days are over. The Queen’s Man has issued orders. I want all the murdants to report to me.” He turned to Dar. “You’re new. What’s your name?”
    “Dar.”
    “Well, Dar, watch where you serve the porridge from now on. The men will have their fun, and it’s not wise to rile them.”
    “Yes, Murdant.”
    The murdant stepped away, then turned, as if seized by an afterthought. “Come to the Queen’s Man’s compound when you’re done here. There’s some work for you. Ask for me, Murdant Kol.”
     
    Dar finished serving. After the porridge-throwing incident, the soldiers were less free with