Page 140 of The Orc Chief's Baker
“I can,” Brovdir vowed. “Iwillmake this work.”
Headman Gerald sat straight and gave Brovdir a broad smile. “Then it’s agreed.” He extended his hand out.
Brovdir took it without hesitation. “Agreed.”
The conversation swelled and tapered as the three of them discussed the future of the Rove Woods and all who lived within them. The pieces of their plan were carefully forged and snapped into place. In the end, they had a clear vision of what was to come, though it would be an arduous task to get it there.
By the time they had finished, the noon meal was upon them and Sythcol looked rather done in.
“I’m going to head back. I need to check in with my conjurers. I suppose you’ll be busy helping Trinia move today?”
Brovdir nodded. His throat was aching from having spoken so much and he was eager to get to Trinia’s side.
“Trinia is moving?” Headman Gerald’s eyes were huge with shock and Brovdir winced.
Sythcol snorted at the blunder but waved. “I’m off then.”
He looked down at the headman’s alarmed face and knew that he could not put off this truth.
“Her father traded the bakery to Ronhold for mead before he died. Ronhold has finally come to claim it.”
The headman’s eyes went huge. “What? That’s not possible.”
“Ronhold holds the contracts,” Brovdir explained.
“No— That’s not— You’re going to see her now, right?”
Brovdir nodded.
“Wait here. I’ll come with you. I just need to grab something from town records.”
From town records?
“It will only be a moment,” Headman Gerald said as he disappeared back into the meeting hall.
Chapter
Forty-Five
TRINIA
Standing within her mother’s bakery, with the fire extinguished and the candles blown out and the scent of stale bread stronger than the smell of it baking, she had such a hard time believing that her time here was over.
And yet . . .
She took a deep, hard breath and picked up another bag of clothes. She hadn’t thought she would have much to pack. In her mind, it all fit into a single bag.
Now she had half of the hand wagon filled to bursting, and there was still more. Items that did not belong to the bakery. Personal things, sketchbooks, and knick-knacks. There was a book of tales her mother used to read her and an old mug that her grandfather had made himself. There was her grandmother’s old shawl and the stools that Ulia had given her as a birthday present.
In the corner, at the bottom of a drawer, Trinia found her mother’s favorite pair of gloves. They still smelled like her. Lavender lotion and rose tea.
She tried to concentrate on these things as she packed them. She focused on what shecouldtake with her and not on what she was leaving behind.
She focused on what she wasgaininginstead of what she was giving up.
Warmth bloomed in her as thoughts of Brovdir flooded her mind. His laugh, his rough voice, his shaggy hair.
The way he supported and stood by her through everything.
