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Remembering my earlier thoughts—something bold, something reckless—I blurted out, “Great! Why don't you come by this evening? I could show you around, and maybe you could stay for dinner?”

The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, and immediately, heat rushed to my cheeks. What was I thinking, inviting him to dinner?

But as I watched Vorgath’s expression soften—just slightly, in the curve of his lips and the almost imperceptible shift of his shoulders—I couldn’t bring myself to regret it.

“Dinner?” he repeated, sounding almost uncertain for the first time since I met him.

I nodded, trying to sound casual. “Yes, just a simple meal. Nothing fancy. It would be nice to get to know you better.”Something bold, something reckless—I kept repeating the words in my head, determined to drown out the surge of self-doubt.

Vorgath was quiet for a long moment, and I feared I’d overstepped, misread the growing connection between us. My hands fidgeted with the edge of my apron as my mind raced for a way to take it all back.

But then, his lips twitched into a faint smile. “I’d like that.”

“Wonderful,” I said, unable to keep the grin off my face. “I'll expect you at seventh bell, then?”

“I'll be there.”

For a moment, something electric passed between us, humming just beneath the surface. But instead of lingering on it, I reached for my hammer, hoping to steady the flutter in my chest.

“So,” I said, focusing on the task at hand, “about those ceremonial axes...”

Chapter 6

The moment I stepped through my front door, I was hit by a wave of panic. Seven save me, what had I been thinking? Inviting Vorgath to dinner? My home was a disaster, I had nothing prepared, and—

“Mama!” Elias's excited voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. He barreled toward me, his small boots thudding against the creaky floorboards. His face was smudged with dirt, and his hair stuck up in wild tufts. “You're home early!”

I scooped him up, grunting slightly at his weight. “I am,” I said, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “And we've got work to do. We're having a guest for dinner.”

His eyes widened. “A guest? Who? Is it Aunt Thyri?”

“No, it's... it's Vorgath. My teacher from the forge.”

Elias's jaw dropped. “The orc? He's coming here?”

“Yes, he is. And we need to get this place cleaned up before he arrives.” I set him down, a knot of anxiety tightening in my chest as I surveyed our cottage with fresh eyes.

The small kitchen table was still cluttered with the remnants of breakfast—bread crusts, half-eaten apples, and Elias’s wooden toy sword lying forgotten among the plates. The pile of mending in the corner had grown into a small mountain, with fabrics draped haphazardly over the worn chair. The hearth, cold and ashy, hadn’t been lit since morning, and a thin layer of dust coated the shelves that held Elias’s books and a handful of keepsakes.

The cottage was cozy to me—warm, lived-in, full of memories—but what would an outsider like Vorgath see? It wasn’t grand like Lady Hargrave’s estate or even well-kept like his cabin in the woods. It was small, cluttered, and worn by years of struggling to make ends meet. Would he think less of me, of us?

There was a soft rustling behind me, and I turned to find Mrs. Crumble materializing out of thin air, leaves swirling around her tiny form.

“Oh!” I exclaimed, clutching my chest. “Mrs. Crumble, you startled me.”

The brownie's eyes twinkled. “Apologies, dearie. These old ears of mine couldn't help but overhear. An orc for dinner, you say?”

I gave her a sheepish smile, my cheeks warming. “Yes, I know it's last minute, and the house is a mess and—”

Mrs. Crumble waved her tiny hand, cutting off my rambling. “We'll have this place spick and span in no time.” She winked at Elias. “Won't we, young man?”

Elias nodded enthusiastically, already reaching for the broom that was taller than he was. “I'll sweep, Mama!”

Affection welled up in my chest. “Thank you,” I said. “I don't know what I'd do without you two.”

“Now, now. No time for sentimentality. We've work to do.” She clapped her tiny hands together. “Elias, you start sweeping. I'll tackle those dishes. And you, my dear,” she fixed me witha knowing look, “best get started on dinner. I imagine an orc's appetite is not to be trifled with.”

I nodded, suddenly uneasy at the thought of cooking for Vorgath. What did orcs even eat? All I knew about their cuisine came from wartime rumors of raw meat and strong spirits. Somehow, I didn't think that would make for a comfortable family dinner.