Page 113 of The Orc Chief's Baker
“Anything for Oakwall’s prettiest baker,” the male said, and Brovdir’s skin prickled. His fists balled with the urge to punch the grin off his face. To crack his jaw so he could never speak another word to his mate.
Fuck.
She wasn’t even his.
“We’re going to need to make something else. Do you have a storeroom for food here?” Trinia turned her attention back to him. She paused and blinked as he tried to wipe the irritation from his features. It was clear he’d not done a good job of it when she said, “Don’t fight them, Brovdir. They’re just being nice.”
“They’re too puny to lift that cauldron,” Brovdir muttered despite himself.
Trinia rose her brows, and one of the four males glanced over with a scowl. Blast, orc hearing was far too good. Especially the ones that were magically infused. The conjurer orcs had senses that were ten times more potent than those of his warriors if they put their skills into the task.
“Let’s cool it down first,” one of the four said, and they all lifted their hands to work the Fades gifts and cool down the boiling muck before handling it.
Had he been asked to put someone to this job, these males would have been the last on his list. A hollowness pitted in his chest as he watched them effortlessly fulfill their given task.
He didn’t know this clan at all, did he? He barely knew the orcs’ names, let alone their skills. It was no wonder they didn’t follow his commands.
He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Hey.”
He blinked rapidly, suddenly remembering that Trinia was next to him.
“Apologies.”
“No need.” She waved off his remorse before stroking his arm. The touch was so warm and soothing he lost his breath. The desire to hoist her over his shoulder and carry her back to their home was so strong he almost trembled from it. “Which way is the storeroom?”
He pointed to a door at the far back of the hall and they made their way to it. The door led into a hallway and the moment it closed behind them, all sound from the hall was dimmed and the scent of herbs and vegetables was so strong it drowned out the vile scent of the stew completely.
“It must be through there.” Trinia walked to the end of the hall and opened a second door, revealing a large storage room with shelves lining the walls all the way to the ceiling. She waved him inside as comfortably as if she’d lived in the clan her whole life. She looked so self-assured.
Confidence looked good on her.
She shut the door behind him and then turned to face him with a fierce expression. He blinked in surprise as she crossed her arms, leveling him with an intense look. “All right. Out with it. What’s wrong?”
He rose his brows.
“Don’t give me that. It’s written all over your face that you’re worried about something. Are you worried about me being friendly with Tovid? Because you shouldn’t be. I’ve known himmy whole life. If I’d wanted to start something with him, I would have.”
The idea of her being intimate with another male made his blood boil. It made his flesh feel like it was crawling.
But he swallowed the sensation down, because that wasn’t what she was asking, and he’d vowed not to lie to her or keep things from her ever again.
He shook his head. “I... am not a fit leader.”
Trinia snorted. “Brovdir,allthe orcs are possessive over the women their interested in. Even the conjurers. No one thinks you’re a bad leader for that.”
He shook his head. “No. Not that. I...”
“Go on.” Her voice was so gentle, and he lapped it up.
“Sinkholes, digging, elders, even this simple stew...” He sighed raggedly. “Nothing goes right. I order, but it doesn’t get done. I plan, but it always fails. I... should not have been made chief of this clan. Sythcol should have sole control.”
Trinia’s lips parted and her eyes softened, but the pity in her expression made him want to rip out his own hair.
And then it fell away, and anger took its place. “That’s boarshit.”
He blinked rapidly in shock.
