Page 16 of Charming the Orc's Mate

“One hundred even.” I turned back with the wrapped box. Her delicate fingers brushed mine as she handed over the cash.

“Worth every penny.” The fae woman cradled her purchase like a newborn. “My daughter will adore this.”

I managed a smile, though my mind wandered back to Carissa. Would she appreciate the subtle details? The way copper inlay caught morning light? Or would she smash it at my feet like Tate did to all my hopes and dreams?

“Quite the salesman.” Zral’s voice jerked me back to reality. He’d materialized beside me, shit-eating grin firmly in place. “Though you seem a bit distracted. Thinking of a certain human?”

I shoved him good-naturedly. “Shouldn’t you be helping set up instead of running your mouth?”

“And miss the chance to fuck with you? Never.” His grin showed too many teeth. “Word is you two got cozy at One Hop Stop before Tate crashed the party.”

I growled. “Word needs to mind its own business.”

“Please.” Zral rolled his eyes. “This is Silvermist. Everyone’s business is everyone’s business.” He held up an intricately carved box. “Speaking of business, where should I put the new stuff?”

“Back table.” I waved vaguely toward the storage area. Carissa would see the uneven rows and out-of-place items as a mess. “And reorganize the display while you’re there. It looks like a hurricane hit it.”

We fell into an easy rhythm, arranging new pieces and chatting with potential customers. The work was soothing and familiar. It let me ignore the ache in my chest, the constant pull urging me across town to where Carissa?—

Movement caught my eye. Mayor Weatherby had cornered Osen by Miranda’s stall, her pinched expression spelling trouble. When she glanced our way, the venom in her glare could have stripped paint.

Shit.

Osen’s expression stayed neutral as she spoke, but his shoulders tensed. Not good. Really not good.

“What did you do?” Zeal asked, following my gaze.

“Nothing that didn’t need doing.” I busied myself with inventory, pretending I couldn’t see Osen’s thunderous approach.

“Brother.” Osen’s voice carried the weight of command. “A word.”

I recognized that tone. It usually preceded lengthy lectures about responsibility and clan image that may or may not be deserved. “I’m kind of busy here...”

“Now.”

I ignored Zral’s delighted “ooooh” and followed him behind the stall, where curious eyes couldn’t watch the chief dress down his idiot brother. Again.

“Want to explain why the mayor is threatening to revoke our market permits?” Osen’s jaw clenched. “Something about potential assault charges filed against a member of my clan?”

“That smug motherfucker had it coming.”

“By the gods.” Osen pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tell me you didn’t actually assault him.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Define assault.”

“Torain!”

“He grabbed Carissa.” The words shot out of my mouth at the memory of Tate’s hands on her and my blood boiling. “I simply removed him from the situation.”

“By throwing him onto the street?” At my silence, Osen’s expression darkened. “We cannot afford this kind of attention right now. You know how delicate things are with the humans after...”

He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to. One of ours killed one of theirs, and months of fury and condemnation followed.Savages. Murderers. They kill humans for sport.

And our father ultimately died because he turned the orc over and upheld human law. An honor duel, only there’d been no honor in the clan’s shaman whispering dark words in his challenger’s ear.

Shame burned in my throat. I’d proven every whisper about orcs right with one impulsive action. “I’ll fix it.”

“See that you do.” He squeezed my shoulder. “I know you meant well. But we have to be better than they expect. Smarter.”

---