Page 64 of The Orc Chief's Baker
He liked that male. He did not want to have to beat him to a bloody pulp.
“This is...” Trinia tapped her cheek as she looked around at the old furniture and gritty surfaces. His bed sat to the left under a window, his couch was a few steps away in front of the fire. There was a row of storage cabinets next to them that ended with a tiny two-person table.
He’d been satisfied with his tree dwelling so far, though it had taken a long time to get it fixed up. The trunk walls were incredibly thick, so it was quiet and warm within. It had all the amenities he needed. He was used to sleeping in a tent, for Fades’ sake.
But Trinia wasn’t. His stomach twisted as she crossed the room to the only door aside from the entry. “Is this a bathroom?”
He nodded, very grateful that it had been the first room he had renovated. She opened it and peered inside. A few candles that stayed lit by magic dimly illuminated the space, and her silence made his chest tighten.
“At least it’s functional.” She looked at the floor. “Could do with a sweep.”
He nodded and went to the wall, where he kept a broom and dustpan.
“Oh, not now!” She held up her hands to ward him off. “That wasn’t a command. Just a remark. Sorry... I...”
Her eyes drifted toward the kitchen area. They lingered on the tiny stove sitting against the opposite wall. Her eyes grew misty and her throat worked in a gulp and Brovdir felt like he was drowning.
She was about to cry. Why was she crying? What had he done?
“I suppose that you orcs don’t have big stoves, do you? Since you take all your meals in the hall.”
Her voice warbled andfuck, what could he have done to cause this? Over the years, he’d gotten very good at figuring out what made women cry, but not this time.
“Brovdir, I—” She broke off and took a shuddering breath before she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, her expression was steadfast and confident, but he could still see the storm brewing. “I... want to broker a trade with you.”
Oh fuck,fuck.
This was about the pans she needed. About thekiss.
He dropped his head and looked down at the floor, shoulders slumped in defeat. “Can’t.” The single word felt like daggers.
“You... you can’t trade with me? But why? Did I do something wrong?”
Her voice was a bit high, andfuck, she was about to cry again. That fact made his muscles clench with agony. His mind reeled. What to do... what todo?
But he’d already gone through every possible avenue. Every scrap of metal in this clan was accounted for. Every piece had value to the one who held it. And Karthoc had taken all the weapons with him when he’d gone.
“There’s no metal here.” He forced himself to admit as his body drooped. “No scraps. Not even a forge. Cannot even pay you back for the kiss.”
There was a stretch of silence in which he felt like he was sinking into the deepest, darkest hole.
“Don’t deserve to be in your presence,” he said mournfully. He’d taken advantage of her. Gotten her hopes up only to dash them. Stolen a kiss from her and now she’d never forgive him.
“Is that... really the only reason you’ve been avoiding me?”
He finally looked up and blinked in the face of her obvious confusion. No anger or disappointment, just...
He nodded slowly.
And then she began to laugh.
It wasn’t a happy laugh. It was a little too high, a little too shrill. It made his skin feel clammy and his chest tightened to the point he couldn’t get enough air.
“Oh, biscuits and jam, thatwouldbe the reason, wouldn’t it? And you know what? If you’d told me before dinner this evening, Iwouldhave been upset.” Her laughter turned hysterical as her eyes became misty. “I would have been devastated because you really were my last hope.”
Her last hope.
He felt like a monster.
