Page 12 of The Orc Chief’s Baker (Orc Mates Of Faeda #4)

By the time they returned to the meeting place, the village gates were open and the group was heading out. They both hurried to catch up.

The Rove Woods were lovely this time of year with bright orange and red leaves streaming down from a crystal blue sky. The sunshine dappled the world in color and the bright green moss growing on all the rocks was covered in dewdrops as the warmth melted away the hard freeze from the night before.

And beauty was completely ruined by her walking partner.

Between shooting her scornful looks and muttering slights she couldn’t quite hear under his breath, Trinia was starting to wonder if it was even worth it to bring her cart at all.

She could have bundled everything for the warrior orc and carried it herself.

But what was done was done and she certainly wasn’t going to waste any time. She set a grueling clip, wanting the walk to be over as soon as possible.

She couldn’t stop thinking about how to convince the warrior to make the pans for her. The sketches were tucked safely away in her skirt pocket. The sweet buns and cookies were carefully placed on her cart. Would he like them? Should she have made something else?

Would one of the prettier girls in the village turn his head instead?

What if he decided he didn’t want to trade with her after all and instead wanted to pursue a conquest? She bunched up her skirts.

“Slow down!”

She blinked in surprise and glanced to find Tobbis laboring beside her, gasping for breath with his forehead beaded with sweat and his underarms drenched despite the chill of the morning.

“Sorry.” She slowed her gait.

“I’ll just go walk in back.” Tobbis gasped.

And then Ronhold showed up right next to him, pulling their own cart of shoes. “Keep pace. It’s shameful to leave a woman walking alone.”

Trinia wasn’t fond of Tobbis but she felt a little bad as he paled. His labored breathing continued as they walked on.

“So, Trinia, what new wares do you have?”

Trinia blinked at Ronhold’s question and was especially shocked that his eyes were alight with eager anticipation. “Just the usual things today.”

“Oh?” His disappointment was obvious.

“Did you want something specific?”

“No. I was just thinking that you might try to experiment with more profitable wares more often. Your mother used to come up with new recipes every moon.”

She had. Trinia’s mother had adored baking and was naturally gifted. Trinia was good, but she more often than not followed the recipe exactly.

“Your bakery could be far more lucrative if you found recipes that were irresistible,” Ronhold continued.

“I didn’t think my profitability would be much interest to you.” Trinia tried to keep the tension out of her voice. Ronhold was a shrewd and calculating businessman. He had an innate ability to find town laws that worked in his favor and did not hesitate to run competitors out of business.

She’d never worried though, because baked goods were the absolute furthest thing from shoes.

Ronhold’s expression shifted then. His eyes narrowed and his lips quirked into a grin, and Trinia suddenly felt incredibly small next to his large, burly frame.

“We’ll talk of this another day.”

Talk of what?

“Have a good trade, Trinia,” Ronhold said as he moved off toward his usual spot.

The trade took place in a location set an equal distance between Oakwall Village and Rove Wood Clan.

The flanking birch trees on either side of the makeshift pavilion spiraled up and twined their branches into a roof to keep the weather out.

The mossy ground was soft underfoot. The lower branches of the trees had been adjusted to make tables for each of the craftsman to display their goods upon.

It smelled of clean soil and crisp frost. Birds sang in the trees above.

There was an overwhelming sense of peace here. Serenity.

It had been built by the orcs using magic centuries prior and she wasn’t sure if the tranquility was their doing or if it was simply a byproduct of their communities’ continued harmony.

Hundreds of years of calm that allowed their two communities to survive in these woods.

They were the only ones here. The nearest human town and orc clan was a full two-day walk out of the Rove Woods completely. Too far to even trade with.

But there was security in that. Outside these woods, there was war . A war that Trinia never even thought much about. A war that the orc she was going to trade with today had seen firsthand.

Tobbis dropped her hand cart hard enough that it thunked to the ground and a few loaves fell out. She would have censured him for dropping them, but the boy was red faced, covered in sweat, and shaking from the exertion. His shoulders were hunched as he took a moment to catch his breath.

Despite her irritation, she was grateful he’d pulled her cart. She grabbed one of the rosemary loaves from the pile and held it out. “Here. Thank you for helping me.”

The winded boy screwed up his nose. “I don’t like rosemary.”

Trinia let out a long sigh and looked back at her wares. Despite her reservations, she plucked one of the vanilla cookies out of the basket and held it out.

His face brightened, and he snatched it. He returned to his father’s side without a word, stuffing his face as he went.

Trinia rolled her eyes. Despite having just come of age, he still acted like a child.

She spent a few long moments organizing her goods and watching for the orcs to arrive at their end of the trade. They usually arrived soon after the humans did.

Had something held them up?

What if the male wasn’t coming?

Would he?—

A rumble sounded in the trees beyond the trade pavilion and her heart jumped into her throat as the first orcs broke through the foliage.

The faces were too familiar.

There was an almost audible sigh of relief from the folks around her as their green neighbors gathered in their usual way. They parked their handheld carts at the edge of the tree line and organized their crates of produce, barrels of fish, and a few furs.

Not much meat.

That lack didn’t go unnoticed by the men around her. Hermest, who was setting up his cheese and milk with narrowed eyes, went so far as to mutter under his breath about the orcs being liars.

“I don’t see the warriors either though,” Jock, his adult son, replied. “Perhaps they changed their minds?”

The relief and frustration that resulted from that statement was palpable in the air. For the last season, there had been constant complaints about the lack of meat. Govek was the lead hunter and since his break with Yerina he hadn’t attended any trades.

“There they are!”

Her heart jumped into her throat as the burly orc warriors appeared at the tree line.

Fades, were they different !

The Rove Wood orcs were slender, regal looking with wispy hair, thin tusks, and graceful movements. These orc warriors were the exact opposite of grace. They were burly, with heavy brows and even heavier steps. Trinia swore she could feel their footfalls vibrating the ground beneath her.

The hush that fell over the villagers was punctuated by Headman Gerald’s exuberant welcome. He marched right up to one of the orcs without preamble. One whose hide was littered with scars and whose thick leather belt was lined with empty loops where weapons once hung.

Forged weapons.

Trinia’s hand clutched at her chest, and she went up on her toes as if that would help her see through the sea of green bodies.

She needn’t have bothered. Movement caught her eye, and there he was. The orc from the woods.

Headed right for her.

He still had no shirt on and his rippling abs looked like they’d been sculpted by the Fades own hand. The raised, puckered lines of his scars distracted her. He had so many.

She swallowed thickly and jerked her gaze back up to his face.

His expression was unreadable, dark eyes shadowed by thick, flat brows.

They hooked her right in the gut and stirred up her heart until it was fluttering.

The scar on his neck looked even more ghastly in the shadowed lighting of the canopy.

This was it. He was here. She just needed to be confident and find the right words to convince him to trade with her.

She prayed that she could.