Page 118 of Halfling
Sorcha stood, pulling Orek up with her. Rubbing his arm, she gave him a careful look, mouthing, “Are you all right?”
Throat tight under her father’s sharp gaze, Orek nodded.
He let her tug him along, deeper into the house. The savory smells grew thicker, and they passed by a huge stone kitchen, warmth from the ovens billowing into the hall. Fronds of herbs hung to dry from the rafters, and suspended pots bubbled over a lit hearth. An oven glowed orange nearby, and the mother stopped to put on a thick pair of gloves and grab a flat-headed tool to pull out a fresh loaf of bread.
Orek was led into what must have been the family dining room, next to the kitchen. A long table, ringed with mismatching chairs, had been laid out with earthenware plates. Two small vases held wilting wildflowers and sprigs of lavender.
The siblings had all found seats with an ease that spoke to sitting in the same place every meal. Sorcha led them to the far side, where she sat beside Connor and motioned for Orek to take the chair beside her. It too creaked as he settled.
But the noise was soon drowned out as the mother and Maeve brought in steaming pots and trays of food. Not even the hungry rumble of Orek’s stomach sounded over the din of the Brádaighs descending on the food.
It took a decent while, but finally everyone’s plate was loaded with food.
“Are raccoons allowed at the table?” inquired Blaire from across the table, watching with amusement as a Darrah paw scrabbled along the tabletop, looking for Orek’s plate.
“He’ll make a fuss if he’s not,” Sorcha laughed.
The father grumbled, but Orek passed the kit a steady supply of steamed carrots and bread, keeping Darrah happy and quiet in his lap.
Dinner quickly turned into a battery of questions. Gone was the structure of Sorcha’s orderly story, following the events of their journey. Queries came at them from all sides, like what they’d eaten and what towns they’d seen and where they found Darrah. The littlest one, Keeley, was very serious about finding out everything Orek knew about sirens. The youngest boy, Calum, asked about the birds that flew so far south and if Orek knew anything about their migratory patterns. Connor wanted to know what life in an orc clan was like, and Niall wanted to know if it was true that orcesses were as big as the males.
The questions swirled around him, dragging him down like an undertow and leaving him gasping for breath. Sorcha did her best to field what questions she could, but they only managed to tuck into their dinner when the mother told everyone to leave them alone for a while to eat.
It was a slow process for Orek, the fork and spoon not sized for hands like his. He held the silver delicately, worried it’d snap in half without much effort. He watched Sorcha from the corner of his eye, using whichever utensil on whatever part of the meal she did. Orcs weren’t barbarians, they had spoons and forks, but didn’t feel the need for multiples. And used to holding a bowl up to his face, he was left to eat the meal in small, fork-sized bites and leave the plate on the table.
He could feel different siblings watching him, particularly the assessing gaze of Maeve, but he endeavored to ignore them, filling his belly with warm noodles and meat and hoping that’d make his insides unclench a little.
When the house grew dark with the coming night, candles were lit, and the mother made sure every stomach was full to bursting with a slice of warm apple pie. Despite not overly enjoying sweet things, Orek ate it all, liking the spicy cinnamon and warm, buttery crust.
He was grateful when the mother sent the younger ones off to bed and decided Orek and Sorcha had better go, too. The day had brought so much, and he saw every long hour weighing on his mate’s face, her eyes gone drowsy in the deepening night.
“You’re dead on your feet,” the mother remarked, pushing some of Sorcha’s curls behind her ear.
Sorcha received long embraces and quick kisses as the siblings filed past, headed upstairs to their rooms. From Connor and Niall, Orek received firm handshakes.
“Thank you for returning my sister safe,” said Connor.
Orek nodded.
After retrieving the packs and Darrah, it was their turn to head up.
“I can make up the south bedroom. Or the turret room, if that would be more comfortable,” offered the mother as she and the father followed them to the stairs.
“Orek will sleep with me. He…he’s mine.”
The declaration was met with surprised silence, and they turned to see her parents gaping at them. The mother’s mouth had gone thin, and the father had gone ruddy again.
“Sorcha, I don’t think—” the father tried.
“We’ve been out in the wilderness together for over a month, papa,” she reminded him gently.
“Yes, but…”
“We just don’t think…”
Feeling Sorcha prickle, Orek took a half-step forward, drawing her parents’ attention.
“It is the highest honor of my life being with your daughter,” he told them. “Her happiness and safety are all that matter to me.”
