Page 1 of Obeying the Orc
CHAPTER1
NATALEE
I hurriedto set the table for two, placing crisp white napkins and polished utensils next to the dinner plates. As I poured mint-infused water in the cups, memories flooded through me unbidden. I suddenly felt as if I were preparing for Logan’s return after a long day spent mining for gold deep in the mountain caves.
At any moment, he would stroll through the door and greet me with a lingering kiss. His beard would tickle my face, causing me to laugh, and I would playfully push him away. Then he would grab me and kiss me harder, leaving me breathless and quivering with anticipation for the night to come.
But the merry humming that drifted out of the kitchen thrust me back into reality as quickly as the fantasy had besieged me, my present surroundings a stark reminder that Logan wasn’t about to walk through the door. I wasn’t at our claim in the mountains. I was in the isolated mining town of Faircross, and my husband had left this life forever.
Oblivious to my musings, Mrs. Foxthorne bustled into the small dining room and placed supper on the table. Ribbons of steam rose from the large pot. The aroma of the wild mushroom soup that had been simmering on the stove for hours made my mouth water.
“I’d expected Angus to have returned already.” Mrs. Foxthorne wiped her hands on her apron and gave a shrug. “I should have invited the Lilypads over for dinner, for as much soup as I’ve made. Guess we’ll be stuffing ourselves tonight.”
I smiled politely and kept my opinion about Mr. Foxthorne to myself. Truth be told, I was glad the trip to his claim was taking longer than anticipated. Maybe, if I were lucky, he would be gone for another fortnight. I appreciated the roof over my head, considering I was no relation to the Foxthornes, but I didn’t care for the leering glances Mr. Foxthorne sent my way when his wife wasn’t looking.
After I fetched the biscuits I’d made earlier, we sat at the table, said a quick prayer of thanks to the God of Abundance, and tried our best to do justice to the large pot of soup.
The front and back doors were propped open to create a cross breeze in the downstairs of the small house, and the voices of passersby and the sounds of horses clomping down the street came in waves. Occasionally, the sounds of cheerful piano music drifted in with the breeze.
The piano music, of course, came from The Sweet Siren Tavern, which was only a short walk from the Foxthorne residence.
Mrs. Foxthorne raised her chin with an air of propriety. “When Angus and I arrived here in Faircross, the first thing we did was ask Mayor Compton to close that bawdy establishment. Considered it our gods-blessed duty, we did.”
“You asked the mayor to shut down The Sweet Siren Tavern?”
“Yes, indeed. Then would you believe it—the sheriff went and married himself a tart from that very establishment. And the mayor later did the very same thing!”
I didn’t comment further, though not for the first time I found Mrs. Foxthorne’s expectations for Faircross to be strange. If the woman had wanted to remain in polite society, she should have stayed in the Northern Isles, rather than follow her husband after he inherited a large and prosperous claim here on Black Dragon Island.
The remote island was untamed, both the land and the people, most of them lower class human or half-human males who’d flocked here in droves with dreams of making a better life for themselves. During the past few months, I’d also seen my fair share of orcs, fae, satyrs, minotaur, and even ogres on this huge, wild landmass. My late husband had told me what to expect before we set sail, and though some of the things I’d witnessed had surprised me—in particular, the massive fire-breathing dragon named Dhomyss that frequently soared through the skies—I didn’t find the presence of an establishment such as The Sweet Siren Tavern out of place or even offensive to my morals.
But, then, I had never felt as if I belonged to the family and polite society into which I’d been born. I’d always felt like an outsider. Keeping up with all my parents’ expectations had been exhausting. When I thought of my childhood, a jolt of panic often coursed through me. I could never smile enough, speak softly enough, sit up straight enough, dance gracefully enough, needlepoint neatly and elegantly enough, and so on down the line. And for as long as I could remember, I had longed to escape the confines of higher-class city life.
The volume of the piano music rose, and I fought to restrain a smile as Mrs. Foxthorne clenched her jaw in an overly angry expression.
In truth, the sirens from the tavern fascinated me. They weren’trealsirens, mind you, but beautiful young women who provided entertainment and amorous companionship to the males of Faircross. I’d seen a few of the sirens up close in the mercantile and imagined they all had grand stories of traveling southwest across the ocean to Black Dragon Island to make it on their own.
Though I couldn’t fathom selling my body for money, I didn’t think badly of the females who worked at the tavern, and I supposed it was due to my nanny’s influence that I wasn’t as quick to judge others as Mrs. Foxthorne.
Growing up, outside of the criticism my parents leveled on me when I wasn’tenough, they hadn’t paid me much attention and usually left me in the care of a much beloved nanny. They were always too busy frolicking from ball to ball and visiting with their friends who lived on different landmasses in the Northern Isles. When they happened to notice me, it was only to berate me for some lacking that made me not ladylike enough.Try harder, girl, or we’ll marry you off to an ogre when you come of age.At the time, I had longed for their love and acceptance, but now that I’d discovered their true colors, I appreciated all the lessons in kindness Nanny Tess had taught me.
An ache pulsed in my chest. I missed Nanny Tess, the sweet half-fae female who’d raised me since birth, but I drew comfort from the knowledge that the elderly woman was placed safely with a new family. I had seen to that before I left the Northern Isles as an eloping bride suddenly estranged from my family.
“Natalee. Natalee. Natalee!” Mrs. Foxthorne tapped a hand on the table, causing the silverware to rattle. “Have you been listening to a word I’ve said?”
“Apologies, Mrs. Foxthorne. I must have drifted off for a second.” I forced a smile. “What were you saying?”
“I’m saying that Faircross needs to get a priest in that temple right quick. It’s a shame that the temple, and the fine rectory beside it, too, are sitting there empty without a priest and without Saturday services being held every week, not to mention the seasonal blessing ceremonies. I guarantee spirituality and the fear of the gods is exactly what this town needs to be turned around.”
“Is that so?” I took a long drink of water in hopes of settling the sickness that had twisted in my stomach. This wasn’t the first time my dinner companion had reminded me of my mother. My father too.Sit up straight. Fix your hair. Act like a lady, would you?
Mrs. Foxthorne nodded and kept going. “I tell you what, if the mayor had any sense in him, he’d go into the mountains and drag Knot Thazurok down by his thick neck and order him to start saving souls.”
I set my cup down. “Who is Knot Thazurok?”
The woman leaned forward, her eyes lit with excitement, as they often were when she was about to impart a bit of gossip—a practice she claimed to abhor yet participated in frequently.
“Priest Knot Thazurok. He’s part orc, from what I hear. They say he’s from the Northern Isle of Lannus, used to have his own temple there in a mountain village. But then one day he up and traveled southwest on a ship headed for Black Dragon Island. They say he was so grief stricken after his wife died that he abandoned everything he’d ever known. Struck it rich during his first week mining his new claim, and had a large cabin built high in the mountains. Some say it’s a palace. He comes to town now and then, but it’s said he refuses to go near the temple, let alone take up orating and holding proper ceremonies in honor of the gods.”
