Page 19 of Orc's Desire

Yes. And yeah, it’s all about you but not in the way I know you really want.

“Uh, sorry, yeah. I guess I was.”

“It will all be fine,” he says, his deep voice rumbling.

“Will it?” I ask, frowning.

Was it that clear what I was thinking on? Did he read my thoughts?

“Yes,” he says. “I am certain of this.”

He works over his head as he speaks. Scraping the mud stuff smooth. Where he has finished the ceiling looks whole again. I can see where the crack was because the repair stuff is a lighter color but that’s the only indication of the work.

“How?” I ask, while admiring his handiwork.

“How? How what?”

“How can you be sure? What makes you certain?”

He runs the flat tool over the last section and then climbs down the ladder before he answers. He grabs the other tool out of my hand and goes into the kitchen where he begins cleaning them with the sand from the bowl set there for this specific purpose.

“If there is one thing I know for certain,” he says. “It is that Tajss provides.”

I don’t know why but that makes me feel like it takes my breath away. I struggle to inhale and a pressure builds behind my eyes.

“Wha—what do you mean by that?” He pauses mid the work he is doing. His shoulders hunch over and he sighs heavily as he hangs his head. He doesn’t turn around, staring down at the tools. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” he says, straightening up and squaring his shoulders then resuming the cleaning. “It is… nothing. Tajss provides. It is a thing we say.”

“Oh,” I say, watching him work. It feels as if he wants to say more and I sure don’t feel like I really understand what he is thinking. The Zmaj say similar things, which is an interesting fact that I file away for a later report, but right now I’d like to know more. “What does it mean to you?”

He pauses again and clears his throat before resuming his work.

“Nothing of importance,” he says.

“Khiara, uh, I’d really like to,” I pause, licking my lips and steeling my resolve. He’s never yelled at me or been directly angry with me, but I sure as heck have seen him do it to and with his brother. I don’t want him to ever be that way to me. But this is a moment and I feel like I need to know. “I’d like to understand.”

He puts the tools down and goes into the kitchen. He cleans his hands in the bowl of sand then brushes the sand off and back into the bowl. He turns around, crossing his arms over his chest. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly while staring at the floor. He shakes his head then turns and opens the cabinet. He gets out two glasses and the bottle of alcohol.

What can of worms did I just open?

Holding the glasses in two fingers he motions towards the table and I walk over to my seat. He pours us each a glass then sits himself. He picks up his glass, swirling the liquid and staring at it with a baleful glare.

“Do your people believe in fate?” he asks.

I buy some time by sipping my drink. A very tiny sip because I know how much this stuff burns. I’ve thought about this subject a lot but never come to a resolution for myself, much less something I can put into words. He waits, not looking directly at me, but staring into his glass.

“I, uhm, some do, yes,” I say.

“And you?”

“I’m not sure.”

It’s as honest an answer as I have to give. He nods, slowly, then takes another drink and smacks his lips.

“I do,” he says. “Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

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