Page 133 of The Orc Chief's Baker
“Well, that’s one way to get off the wall!” the elder said with a laugh. Most of the boys were laughing too. The mirth forced Trinia to relax, but she still wanted Brovdir out of that water as soon as possible. What if the boulder dislodged, and he was sucked inside?
He made it to the edge and came straight for her. He was back on solid ground and all right.
She wanted to cry with relief.
“Trinia.” He kneeled next to her, pressed his soaking wet forehead to hers. “You are well?”
“Yes,” she managed as tears of relief soaked her cheeks. “Yes, I’m fine.”
His thumbs brushed them, only to leave more moisture behind than was already there. He looked down at himself as if he’d only realized he was soaked. She didn’t care. She was just so glad he was with her.
But he stepped back again, moving off a fair distance.
And then he shook like a wet dog.
Trinia slapped a hand over her mouth, but it couldn’t stop her laughter. Biscuits and jam, this malewasjust like a puppy.
Her puppy.
He came back to her side and turned his attention to her stuck foot. She cupped his face instead. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Stay with me.” His voice was rough and quiet.
“And love you,” she said breathlessly. “I love you, Brovdir.”
His expression melted, and he leaned in to kiss her.
“What in allblasthas happened here?”
Trinia’s heart jumped right up into her throat.
Headman Gerald had arrived.
Chapter
Forty-Two
BROVDIR
“Don’t you worry, Headman. These boys have got a fine hold on that wall. None of your villagers are going to splat today. And we’ve got a boar’s butt all nice and plugged up under the water too so the sinkhole can’t get any bigger.”
“That— They...what?” the headman exclaimed. His face was pale. The group of five human men that had come with him were equally shocked and disheveled. “Where is Chief Sythcol?”
“Our conjurer chief is a little out of sorts now. Think he’s unconscious in the woods over yonder there. Right, boys? Where’d you cart him off to?”
“He’s on a rock somewhere.”
“We draped him nicely. Like a tablecloth! Humans like those, right?” Ulid looked to Elder Plog expectantly.
“That they do, son. Very wise.”
Brovdir would have groaned had he been able to produce sound out of his worthless throat.
Plog continued. “Sythcol might be underdressed, but our warrior chief is right over here with your baker. He’s in muchbetter shape, though a little damp from his catapult into the sinkhole.”
“He was—you were—are you all right?”
“Fine,” Brovdir coughed. He tried to get more volume, but it was no use. He’d bellowed too much and now he had no words left. At the absoluteworsttime.
