Page 1 of The Orc Chief’s Baker (Orc Mates Of Faeda #4)

Chapter

One

TRINIA

T his was, without a hint of doubt, the worst day Trinia had endured in a very long time.

The list of misfortunes was endless. Burned bread, overproofed dough, even more missing 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. How they 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 stomach and back before logic caught up with her.

There was no way she’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 like ages . 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 if she didn’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.

She should be 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.

Why the 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 to breathe.

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 was just strong 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 to stop bothering 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 enough for 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!

Suddenly, all irritation evaporated into relief, and she hastily pushed her skirts back up around her thighs. There was nothing she could do to cover her butt, but that didn’t matter because she was about to be free . Finally!

Free to go back to work baking rosemary loaves in her mother’s bakery.

She sighed heavily before calling out. “Here! I’m over here!”

There was no verbal response, but the cracking of twigs continued to her left, getting closer.

She tried to swing herself in that direction so she could see who was coming.

Would it be Willford or Victir? Fades, she hoped it wouldn’t be one of their kids.

They both had teenage sons, and she would never live this down if one of them saw her like this.

And then her savior burst through the tree line.

But it wasn’t a savior at all.

Her skin broke into goosebumps and her hair stood on end. Her gaze narrowed on the animal at the edge of the tree line as her limbs began to shiver with electric energy. Matted fur. Yellow eyes. Long dripping teeth. A sour rotting stench that could only be caused by one thing.

Blight.

The saber cat skewered her right through with too-wide eyes. It wavered slightly as it advanced on her, stalking its prey. Lips pulled back to display its rotten teeth and drooling pus hung from its mouth. The low growl rumbled right through her gut.

How had a blighted saber cat even come to be in the Rove Woods? This place was supposed to be safe from such travesties!

It took a step forward, and she jerked her leg hard, desperate to flee as terror poured shivering heat down her spine. The knot held her tight. She couldn’t run. Couldn’t fight!

“Y-you don’t want me,” she said stupidly as her eyes fixed on the creature’s huge claws. They were longer than her hand! “You don’t want to eat me! I’m far more fat than meat!”

The cat leaped toward her, swiping with one of its massive claws.

Trinia shrieked and yanked her body away. She felt the swish of the blighted predator hit her skirts as they fell back down. Terror seized her as the fabric cut out her vision, but she could hear the cat scrambling to turn around, snarling and hissing and furious it had missed.

She managed to get her skirt back up when she saw the cat leap toward her again. Claws out. Teeth bared.

Her life flashed before her eyes in a quick, shuddering burst. Fighting with Yerina, even though it was pointless. Lecturing her father before he’d drunk himself into an early grave.

Her mother’s smile as she taught her endless recipes. How to knead bread, how to stoke the fire, how to properly haggle an honest trade.

She had that same smile the night she died. Even after being sick for three seasons, she still smiled.

Trinia was going to join her now.

A green blur shot out of the woods and slammed into the saber cat while it was in midair.

Her heart jumped up into her throat and choked her. Her whole body froze in realization.

A whole new kind of predator had arrived—the deadliest predator of all.

An orc.

The snarling of the huge green male cut through her like a hook blade through overproofed dough.

The orc was enormous, and he only wore a tattered pair of leather shorts and some roughly made shoes. Muscles rippled across his back. His dark green skin was riddled with jagged scars. His nearly black hair was cropped short in blunt chunks.

She didn’t recognize him.

The cat had recovered from the blow. Its matted tan hide was coated with muck from the ground and the pupils within its yellow eyes were tiny pricks. It snarled at the orc and took a step forward, preparing to pounce again.

The orc let out another harsh snarl, so electrifying that all the hair on her body stood up and the blood in her veins went cold.

Oh Fades, she could hardly move.

The saber cat froze too. Its pupils rapidly dilated. She could see something flicker in its eyes. Some kind of recognition that was usually lost on blighted creatures.

She held her breath, fists clenched in her skirts to keep them from falling back down.

And the cat turned and bolted back into the woods.

Had she not been strung up in a tree, she would have collapsed in relief.

But her relief was short-lived. Now it was her and the huge, powerful orc.

She scrambled to keep her skirt up, and it only made her spin again. She yipped in horror as her body helplessly swayed around to display her ass to the stranger who’d just saved her.

She was never going to recover from this. She may as well stay strung up and let the next predator eat her.

Warmth encircled her legs, and she let out a yip of surprise. She’d not even heard the orc approaching.

Suddenly the tension around her ankles loosened and her body dropped like a ton of bricks.

She squeezed her eyes shut, prepared for a stinging impact against the cold, hard ground.

Instead, she was swung up into warmth.

Mercy help her, it was so warm! She hadn’t realized just how icy cold she was until now. Now that she was... she was...

Her eyes widened as she looked up at the orc, who held her in a tight embrace.

The male looked just as tense as she did. His dark green eyes were glittering in the dappled autumn light. They were pretty really, a deep green hue that contrasted with the red and yellow leaves reflected in them.

His teeth , on the other hand... she gulped hard.

His tusks were enormous. Almost as long as the saber cats.

They went all the way up past the bridge of his nose.

His fangs poking into his bottom lip were so sharp it was a wonder they didn’t cut him.

His face was riddled with as many scars as the rest of him, old light green lines that marred his features along his cheek, brow, his nose.

There was even one on his full bottom lip.

Orcs of Rove Wood Clan didn’t display their teeth like that. They tucked their jaws up to hide them away. Kept them concealed so the villagers of Oakwall didn’t become frightened. She’d spent her whole life trading with those orcs every fifteen days. She knew each and every one of them personally.

She didn’t know who this orc was.

He was a complete stranger.

The male quickly put her down on her feet and her legs collapsed beneath her.

Pins and needles crawled up her calves and her muscles refused to obey. She’d been hung upside down for far too long.

And then something landed at her feet.

A knife.

And not just any knife. A good quality one. The kind of metal workmanship that the blacksmiths in her village could only dream of producing. It was twice as long as her hand, perfectly sharp, with no rust or divots in sight.

She snatched it up quickly even as the orc began to back off, his hands raised, his body hunched.

He looked about as threatening as a puppy and the oddity of that struck her a little dumb.

“W-what are you doing?” she asked breathlessly, as he continued to move away. He was littered with scars. The white lines and pock marks were stark against his dark skin.

She tried to find her voice, but her head was still foggy and scrambling to decide what to ask first.

Who was he?

Why had he given her a knife?

Had he been the one to set this snare trap?

Didn’t he know this area of the woods was off limits to the orcs of Rove Wood?

She didn’t have time to ask a single one because in the next breath, he turned on his heel and bolted into the woods.

And despite all logic, Trinia found her legs, got to her feet, and rushed after him.