Page 96 of The Orc Chief's Baker
“Trinia?” His heart was up in his throat.
She turned, and he saw the letters held tight in her hands. Correspondence from Karthoc about the prophecy.
Fuck.
“What is this, Brovdir?” Her expression was flat, unreadable, tense. “Brovdir, tell me what these are.”
“Letters. From Karthoc.”
Her eyes flashed with fury, and he couldn’t catch his breath. “That isn’t what I’m talking about, and you know it. According to these, over thirty clans and communities of orcs from outside Rove Wood are going to settle here within the next few seasons. Is that true?”
He couldn’t lie to her. He forced a nod.
She covered her mouth with her hand, and her eyes turned glossy with tears. He felt like his heart was being trampled on. What could he do? What could he say to make this right?
Then she blinked away her tears and her voice came out sharper than his finest blade. “You must be jesting! You told us it would only be fifty warriors at most!”
He swallowed and averted his eyes. They landed on a sketch on the floor under his desk that he didn’t recognize. A floor plan of a house.
His house. She’d drawn his home?
“These numbers—it’s going to bethousandsof orcs. How can you think that Rove could even hold that many? Our resources might be plentiful for the fewhundredwe have, butthousands? And so soon? It’s not possible!”
He looked back to her face, unable to find words.
“And what’s this about a prophecy and Earth? Does Miranda have something to do with this? Why?How? I’ve spoken to her at nearly every trade since her arrival and neveroncehas she mentioned this.”
“Sythcol ordered silence.” Brovdir felt guilty for pushing the blame off, even as the words left his lips.
“Oh, did he? Why am I not surprised?” Trinia snapped, throwing down the papers. Then she went still, eyes widened on the stack before they snapped to him. The ice in them sent a shiver down his spine. “He’s told Headman Gerald at least?”
Brovdir gulped so thickly his throat began to throb.
He shook his head
“Brovdir.” Hearing his name spoken so harshly by her hurt more than the crack of a whip across his back. “You cannot be serious! Tell me you’re lying.”
“Not lying.”
“Why?” She threw out her arms. “What justification does he have to keep something so vital from us?”
“Did not want to threaten the peace. Was afraid you would leave.”
Even as he said it, he could see how wrong it was.
Trinia’s face contorted. “Brovdir,keepingthis from us is what will ruin the peace. The sinkholes are already bad enough, but this? This is inexcusable. This isn’t just about the wellbeing of a few villagers who like to walk in the woods, this will affect ourentirecommunity. It will affect our relationships, our trade, ourresources. Explain how you think keeping this from us is justified. Look me in the eye and tell me you agree with Sythcol’s decision.”
He couldn’t. He truly couldn’t think of any justification for keeping the prophecy from them.
But that is what Sythcol had demanded, so that is what they’d decided to do.
Trinia shook her head in disbelief, clearly reading him. “Brovdir. If you thought that keeping this secret from us was a bad idea, thenwhydid youdo it?”
The pain in his throat was an inferno that spread through his whole body. The imprint was thundering agony, and he worried his chest might explode.
“Sythcol . . . ordered me not to.”
Trinia dropped her arms and her jaw went slack. Tears welled in her eyes and, once again, she blinked them away.
