Page 63 of The Orc Chief's Baker
“You better be teasing me!”
He shrugged, and his sly smile widened.
“Brovdir, I’m not taking a bath in the cold. I’ll walk right back home first.”
Oh, he couldn’t have that. He quickly shook his head. “Have one.”
“Good.” Her eyes narrowed but a small smile still played at her lips. Then she looked around. “This home of yours is on the outskirts, isn’t it?”
He nodded and her brow furrowed as she asked, “But you’re the chief. Shouldn’t you have a home that’s central to the clan?”
He didn’t see why that would matter much. “Took what Sythcol gave.”
She was quiet a moment before saying, “I noticed you default to Sythcol quite a bit. My sister mentioned you’ve let him take control almost completely.”
He shrugged. “He knows Rove better.”
“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have your own opinions. That you shouldn’t get involved,” she said firmly. “You’re a chief too, Brovdir. Though I suppose its habit for you to take orders, isn’t it? Does your brother give you a lot of orders too?”
“He is Warlord.”
“Does it get annoying? Having to obey all the time?” She searched his face, and he was surprised at how good it felt for her to be giving him her full attention.
He shook his head.
“Really? My sister’s demands always get on my last nerve.” Her voice was tinged with wry mirth.
“Not demands. Orders.”
“What’s the difference?”
He paused to consider. “Consent.”
“W-what?” Trinia blinked as his brows rose at the sight of her heated cheeks. Why was she embarrassed?
“Difference is consent.”
“So... you think demands are nonconsensual but orders are?”
“Orders are given to willing followers,” he said. “Demands are made of those who are not willing.”
“Ah, I get it.” She tapped her finger against her plump lips, drawing him to distraction. “That does make sense. Still, you don’t have to followmyorders. It’s not like you’remyfollower.”
“Trinia.”
She met his eyes and longing clenched in his gut.
“I’d follow you anywhere,” he said.
He was rewarded by her cheeks heating up. She pushed back her hair and averted her eyes, but there was not a hint of displeasure on her face.
Then her eyes turned forward. “Is this it?”
The realization that he’d stopped them in front of his home jolted him, and now, Trinia was looking up at him with equal parts concern and confusion.
He quickly guided her up the rest of the path to the disheveled oak tree he lived within. Its leaves had already fallen by the time he’d moved in, so he’d never seen it looking anything but entirely dead. He hadn’t bothered to shovel the snow, so the path was mushy and slick. The door was crooked and stuck, so he had to yank hard to get it open. The bottom step creaked so loudly when she stepped upon it, she flinched.
And then she entered his home. Her face was illuminated by the fire in the hearth and the three torches lining the walls. Her expression was flat as she looked around, and his guts twisted up with worry. What if she hated it and insisted he take her to Iytier instead?
