Page 1 of The Orc Chief's Baker
Chapter
One
TRINIA
This was, without a hint of doubt, theworstday Trinia had endured in averylong time.
The list of misfortunes was endless. Burned bread, overproofed dough, evenmoremissing pans, stolen by none other than her own obnoxious, selfish, rotten?—
A pleasant autumn breeze filtered through the trees and Trinia began to sway, spinning slowly. The forest around her was dizzying. The golden leaves were breathtaking as the midday sunlight filtered through to cast dappled shade on her rigid form.
Even though they were upside down.
Blast the Oakwall Village trappers back to the depths.Howthey had managed to create a snare trap strong enough to scoop her right off her feet and fling her upside down was beyond her. Last she checked, they could barely catch a squirrel, let alone any large game.
And yet, here she was, swinging by her feet from a tree like a sack of soiled grain. When she’d first gotten stuck, she’d panicked her way into straining every muscle in her stomachand back before logic caught up with her. There was nowayshe’d ever be able to reach up and untie herself. Her arms might have been strong from hours of kneading dough every day, but the rest of her was more plump than burly. She had no tools with her, only a bag that was barely within reach filled to the brim with rosemary and a few vanilla cookies she’d packed as a little treat.
Now her stomach was all churned up, and the thought of eating made her grit her teeth.
Her ankles smarted almost as much as her pride as she desperately tried to keep her skirt from falling around her face and giving all the woodland creatures a show. She could almost hear the trees snickering as she wriggled against her plight.
She hadn’t been hanging long, but it already felt likeages. Her head pounded and her mouth tasted a bit metallic. When the trappers finally showed up to get her, she was going to strangle them.
Or never trade her baked goods with them again. Whichever one hurt more.
She let out a long sigh and shut her eyes, grateful for the darkness to soothe her throbbing head. The clean, crisp smell of wet leaves and frost helped to calm her down as she tested the binding around her legs.
Maybe if she shifted her leg back a bit, just to take the pressure off her foot slightly, she could—ouch!
She went limp and allowed her hands to drop as well. Her skirt fell around her face and blocked out the view of the forest. She could feel the cold air curling around her thick thighs as her underwear was on full display.
She mused darkly that ifshedidn’t kill the trappers for this, they’d likely die laughing at her.
With another long exhale, she looked toward the ground. She could touch the sodden dirt just enough to draw and her eyes drifted over the sketch she’d made.
Sheshouldbe thinking about the work she still had to do. The dozens of rosemary loaves she still needed to make for the trade the next day.Whythe orcs had ordered so many was beyond her. That, combined with her stupid, selfish sister stealing the pans she needed to bake them in batches, had resulted in the bread taking twice as long as it usually did.
She’d been almost relieved when she’d run out of rosemary and had an excuse to finally get outside. Her mother’s bakery held a lifetime of wonderful memories, but it was also small and stuffy and hot, and she just needed a few moments tobreathe.
She had not, however, expected those few moments to be spent upside down.
Another breeze caught her and the Fades themselves must have had a hand in it because it wasjuststrong enough to make her start spinning again. Honestly, she was no dainty flower. She couldn’t believe that the wind alone could move her.
But move her it did, and she quickly put her fingers down in the dirt to stop herself before she grew nauseous. She was careful not to touch the drawing she’d done. She retraced the outline with the tip of her index finger to make it clearer.
“I need tostopbothering with this,” she muttered to herself. But she didn’t. Instead, her mind sprung with a new idea, and she quickly moved a few lines around. Adjusting. Redrawing. Until...
“There.” Satisfaction warmed her chest as she memorized the image. “That will do.”
The little floor plan was done, and with it, she’d cut Petr’s living room into three small bedrooms for his growing family. If her numbers were correct, the rooms would be just big enoughfor a bed and a trunk to store their clothes and each would have their own door leading out.
And making this was a complete waste of time.
She swiped the drawing away, muddying her hand and losing her grip on the ground. Her body swung, and she let out a groan of frustration.
A snap from the woods instantly caught her attention.
The trappers!
