Page 145 of The Orc Chief's Baker
“I never heard about Trinia inheriting! She clearly didn’t even know.”
“Yes, it’s clear she didn’t. And for that, I apologize.” Gerald met Trinia’s eyes again. “Your father said that you and your sister were too distraught to attend the reading of her will, so Iapproached you delicately after. Too delicately, it seems. Do you remember when I came to you and told you that the bakery was yours now?”
“Yes.” Trinia clung to Brovdir’s arm for support as she reeled from this new information. “I just thought you meant it was myresponsibility.”
Gerald exhaled, “I’m sorry. I should have been clearer. I should have known your mind would be clouded at the time. The bakery is yours, Trinia. Here is the will to prove it.”
Trinia felt like her chest would burst and her voice warbled as she took the paper from Headman Gerald. Her mother’s hand was obvious. “My mother... really left it to me.”
Brovdir shifted to bring an arm around her middle and pull her into his side. She sagged against him.
Headman Gerald’s eyes softened. “She did. She loved you dearly and trusted you above all others to run it.” He sighed. “I am ashamed to admit that because you immediately took it over, I took that to mean you knew it was yours. I am truly sorry for all the hurt this has caused you.”
Trinia’s stomach twisted and she couldn’t find words. Brovdir pulled her in closer and she leaned into his strength and warmth. His support seemed endless, and she soaked it up.
“They still owe me for my deal with Jevin!” Ronhold raged. “They owe me his debt!”
The headman scowled. “Stop spouting nonsense. Debts die with the person who made them. You know that better than anyone.”
Ronhold went so red in the face that Trinia thought he might explode. “I’ll overturn that law!”
Headman Gerald grinned slyly. “You likely could. You have enough friends to sway the vote. But if you do, thenalldebts from the past will be owed by the kin. Includingyour fathers. How much leather had he neglected to pay for before he died?I suppose I can just look in the town ledger. I’ve kept excellent records.”
Ronhold huffed and heaved and then stormed out of the bakery, shouting. “This isn’t the end!”
“Oh, I think it is,” Headman Gerald said smugly.
Ronhold turned to glower at him before shouting. “Tobbis, come on!”
His son reluctantly followed his father, but not before pausing to give Trinia a sorrowful look and stare longingly toward Yerina one more time.
“S-so . . .” Yerina said cautiously, “it’s ours? The bakery is really . . . ours?”
Gerald gave her a flat look. “It is yoursister’sand no one else’s.”
Yerina went pale and wouldn’t meet Trinia’s eyes. “I’m... I’m sorry. Truly, Trinia, I thought I was doing the right thing.”
Trinia didn’t have words. She’d hardly begun to process that they’d won over Ronhold, let alone think about the part her sister played.
But one thing was clear. “It isn’t entirely your fault, Yerina.”
“So... so you forgive me?” Yerina’s voice was tinged with hope. “You’ll still help me, right? I’ll starve without the bakery, Trinia. I have no way of supporting myself otherwise.”
Trinia took a deep breath, chest tight, stomach twisting. She looked up at Brovdir, who looked equally tense as he waited for her response.
Her heart swelled, and she gave his hand a squeeze before letting him go.
She steeled herself and walked over to where the recipe book had been dropped to the floor. She picked it up, brushed off the dust and flour, hugged it tight to her chest.
“For a long time... I worked this bakery out of duty. And I didn’t love it like mama and grandma, but I couldn’t give it upeither, because it’s all I had.” She met Brovdir’s eyes. “But that’s not true anymore.”
She walked over to Yerina, who was watching her with wide, hopeful eyes, and placed the book in her hands.
“I give the bakery to you, Yerina.”
“W-what?” Yerina fumbled with the heavy tome.
“It’s hard work, but if you keep at it, you’ll have more than enough to support yourself.”
