Page 41 of The Orc Chief's Baker
Trinia’s chest felt tight. “But it’s onlyrumorsthat the warlord’s warriors are going to come settle in these woods. And Rori is so practical. It’s not like him to be pulled along.”
“Guess you’ve had your nose so deep in the flour you hadn’t heard,” Yerina said with a scoff. “It’s not rumors anymore. Headman Gerald confirmed that more are going to come back to stay.”
“What? When?”
“Come inside and I’ll tell you,” Yerina said, and Trinia followed somewhat helplessly. They walked up the three narrow steps, which had also been mended, to the front door, which no longer squeaked, and Yerina made room for Trinia to walk past.
Inside, the house wasclean. So clean. Cleaner than Trinia could ever remember it being, even before her mother had passed away. The floor was shining in the firelight. The hearth had been swept out and crackled brightly. The stonework around it had been patched. The cabinets in the kitchen had been fixed up and painted.
Trinia didn’t have time to marvel because one look toward the kitchen table revealed they were not alone.
Ronhold and Tobbis were here.
The door clacked shut behind Yerina and Trinia’s back straightened as she recalled the insults the obnoxious young adult had thrown her way. He looked just as filthy as he had the day of the trade a moon and a half ago, but honestly, she wasn’t much better, with flour and grime stuck to her dress.
If Ronhold noticed her state, he didn’t make it known. The powerful merchant rose to his feet with well-kept clothes of cotton and leather and a wide grin that engulfed his rounded face. Ronhold looked like he was about to cut a deal sharp enough to make her toes curl. Though, at this point, Trinia couldn’t be certain if that was because he was about to don her feet in some of his best footwear or attempt to chop off her toes.
“Trinia”—Ronhold’s grin somehow widened—“glad you could finally get here. We’ve been waiting a long time for you.”
“I had no idea,” Trinia said, casting Yerina a look out of the corner of her eye. Her sister refused to meet her gaze.
“You were at the bakery, weren’t you?” Ronhold asked, and Trinia was surprised to see a gleam of pride in his eye.
“Yes.” She glanced at Tobbis, who’s head was down as he also avoided eye contact. The boy was all bunched in on himself, shoulders hunched, fists balled on the tabletop.
“You work hard, don’t you, Trinia?”
“I believe that’s subjective based on who you are asking.”
“You supply bread to the village daily. I would say that is hard work.”
“I suppose.”
“You even moved into the bakery so you could complete tasks more easily. Bake more efficiently.”
“Why are you asking me all this?” Trinia narrowed her eyes.
“Why don’t you go sit down, Trinia?” Yerina said before Ronhold could answer. She pushed the small of Trinia’s back.
Trinia stepped away from her sister’s prodding. “I’d rather stand, thank you.”
Ronhold slapped his son’s arm. “Quite right, it’s better to stand for these things.”
“Father,” Tobbis hissed, as his father tugged him to his feet. He cast a disgusted look Trinia’s way before his gaze lingered on Yerina. “You said we would discuss first.”
“What is there to discuss?” Ronhold swept his hand toward Trinia. “She’s the best fit, clearly. Hard working. Dedicated. You would do well to learn from her.”
Trinia blinked rapidly in shock. “You... want me to take your son on as an apprentice?”
The idea of having to spend so much time with Tobbis made her skin crawl.
Ronhold burst into robust laughter that flooded the house until she felt like she was drowning.
“Of course not!” Ronhold’s voice was tinged with mirth. “No, no. Though I suppose you could consider him as such in some respects. He does have quite a bit of maturing to do, but I know with you at his side, he’ll age into a fine man.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You and Tobbis will be wed.”
