Page 23 of The Orc Chief’s Baker (Orc Mates Of Faeda #4)

Sythcol scrambled back, far too close to the sinkhole’s edge.

“Stop!” Trinia demanded. “You’re both acting like fools! Sythcol, get away from the sinkhole before you fall in.”

The male scowled but did so, giving Brovdir a wide birth.

Brovdir instantly backed off and the deadliest, most uncomfortable silence she’d ever experienced in her life descended on the lot of them. And she’d experienced many uncomfortable moments in her life.

“Brovdir.” Sythcol’s smooth voice punctuated with every icy word. “Were you threatening me just now?”

It was dark now, but even in the dim, she could see Brovdir go stiff, his breathing labored, and his fists balled.

She should have wanted to bolt at this moment, get as far away from the furious male as she could.

Instead, she carefully approached and touched his arm.

He jolted and swung his head around to look at her. Rum cakes and raisins, his glowing eyes were both unsettling and... enchanting.

“Take a breath,” she demanded. “No good will come from fighting with him.”

He dutifully sucked in a hard gulp of air as his eyes searched hers. Finally, he turned his hard gaze back to Sythcol and said, “No threat. Apologize .”

“Apologize?” Sythcol’s brow furrowed in confusion. Trinia was just as confused until Sythcol said, “Fine. Yes. I was wrong to take all the authority in this. You do indeed hold half, Brovdir.”

“No. To her .”

Trinia blinked, wildly uncomfortable. Especially when Sythcol’s lips parted in shock, and he sputtered. “You want me to apologize to her? For what , exactly?”

“Raising your voice.”

He was mad because Sythcol had yelled at her?

Her cheeks heated and pleasure warred with her embarrassment.

Sythcol sputtered in disbelief, his glowing eyes widened, showing the bags under them more clearly. His hair was matted, and his clothes were rumpled. “All right. Trinia, I apologize for startling you. I should not have raised my voice and threatened the peace between our people.”

“It’s fine,” Trinia said quickly before Brovdir could get any angrier. “I... can see this is a matter of dire importance to both of our communities.”

“Yes,” he said gruffly. “I do concede to that, at least. But I ask you not to get involved in this matter. I am so close to solving this, just a few days’ time, and these sinkholes will no longer be a problem.

Please. Allow me time to fix this before going to your headman about what transpired here tonight. ”

“I can’t do that, and you know it,” Trinia said firmly. “I almost died. The peace between our communities will be shaken when they find out you’ve kept these dangers from us.”

“It is the peace that has forced me to hold my tongue.” Sythcol’s voice was clipped with determination. “Until now, the sinkholes have only formed within the borders of our clan. There was no threat to your village. I did not want to cause needless panic.”

“But now there is a threat.”

“Yes, and now I know how to stop them. I just need time.”

“But how much time? How are you going to stop them?”

“I can’t get into that now.” Sythcol waved her off and anger bloomed at the back of her throat. “But they will be stopped completely by the end of the season. Of that I can assure you. We are in winter. None from the village walk these woods at this time.”

“I do.”

“You are an anomaly, Trinia. Please, see it from my side. How would your people have reacted had they been told sinkholes were opening up? I know many are already talking of leaving the village and resettling outside these woods.”

She sucked in a breath, wanting to refute him, wanting to tell him he was wrong. That they wouldn’t have panicked, that they wouldn’t have left. She wanted to insist that Headman Gerald would have handled it.

But then the memories of the first trade with the warriors flashed in her mind. Of the day more than half the villagers hadn’t gone despite the boons. Some still refused to attend. Rumors about the warriors were constant. Negative gossip spread like wildfire.

Her sister’s voice echoed in her mind. “Plenty of folks are talking about leaving since the warrior orcs started to settle here.”

She didn’t want to admit Sythcol was right, but he was. Her people would have panicked in the worst way.

“You... still need to at least tell Headman Gerald,” Trinia insisted. “He would never do anything to threaten the peace. And I can’t lie for you, Sythcol. I’m not going to keep your secrets for you.”

“I understand. All I ask for is time. Can we speak on this tomorrow? When it’s not so fresh and emotions are not so high? Please.”

Trinia let out a long breath. She couldn’t blame Sythcol for being cautious.

Since Chief Ergoth’s betrayal had come to light, everything had been tense.

The cruelty and manipulation of the former chief had shocked the villagers into intense disquiet because no one had seen it coming.

They had all liked Ergoth. They’d all thought he was a good leader who put peace first.

But they had been wrong.

And since that moment, Sythcol had done everything in his power to keep their communities banded together. He’d gone to every trade, chatted with every merchant, met with the villagers who were wary, and proved to them that the orcs wanted nothing but goodwill between their peoples.

“Trinia?” Sythcol pressed softly. “Tomorrow? Please?”

She exhaled hard. And nodded.

“Thank you.” Sythcol’s own breath left in a whoosh.

“Trinia.”

She snapped her gaze to Brovdir. She’d been so caught up in the debate with Sythcol she’d nearly forgotten... he was chief too. What was his say in all this?

Did... he want to hide the sinkholes from her village?

But when she searched his face, all she saw was a mask of concern. His glowing eyes were stuck on her cheek, which stung from the cut. His fists were curled. His chest and arms were coated with mud...

And so was she. She was a right state, soaked to the bone and caked with grime. She was shivering so hard she felt like she might vibrate right out of her own skin.

“Here.” She turned to find Sythcol digging in the sleeve of his robe. He produced a small green vial and tossed it over.

Brovdir caught it with ease. Then he paused, eyes narrowed at Sythcol for a long moment before he grated. “Robe too.”

Sythcol’s nose screwed up and Trinia might have laughed under other circumstances. “Excuse me?”

“The robe. For her.”

Sythcol’s scowl deepened, but, surprisingly, he conceded with a puff of irritation. “Fine. Here.” He quickly emptied the pockets and sleeves of the dark brown cloak, piled up his belongings on a nearby rock, and shrugged it off.

Brovdir took it and brought it back to her, but he uncorked the vial first. A light minty scent flooded her nose, telling her this was a magical healing tincture.

She wasn’t about to turn that down. She took it from Brovdir and was about to swallow it when he stepped much closer.

The firm wall of his bare chest, rippling muscular perfection, was all she could see.

Her breath caught as the desire to lean into him swarmed her.

What was he doing? Was he going to kiss her again?—

Brovdir swung Sythcol’s cloak around her shoulders and heat flooded back into her bones. She let out a long exhale. So that’s all he was doing.

She should be grateful for the generous act, but a silly tinge of disappointment edged at the corners of her mind. She was being stupid. He hadn’t even sent a message by bird. Of course he wasn’t interested in her.

Not that it mattered. It really shouldn’t matter. She had far bigger things to worry about.

Like the fact that three generations of hard work had just been stolen away from her.

Her eyes stung and the world around her blurred.

“Drink.”

Brovdir’s sharp demand had her tipping the tincture into her mouth without question.

The familiar prickling sensation began at her tongue but quickly spread through her whole body, warming her briefly before she was shivering cold again.

The cuts along her arms and face stung for only a moment, and then they were gone completely.

Only smears of blood remained to prove she’d been hurt at all.

“I do apologize for this.”

Sythcol’s words caught her attention. Brovdir stepped back so she could meet the conjurer’s tired eyes.

“It never should have happened. I’ve been relying on the warriors to warn us of the cracks in the ground so I can predict when and where the sinkholes will form.

” He looked toward the massive chasm again, his expression a mask of concern.

“But I failed. I alone am at fault for this travesty.”

Trinia’s gut twisted at the heavy weight of guilt flickering behind the orc’s green eyes. He had much to answer for, certainly, but she didn’t see the benefit of wringing him out here. Especially now that the chill of the forest was getting to her. She tugged the cloak tighter.

As if he could read her mind, Brovdir said, “Taking her back.”

“Good. Send a bird to my conjurers and your warriors to meet me here. I’ll need their help tonight.”

Brovdir nodded before turning to her. His eyes pierced her, from the top of her head all the way down her sodden frame, or what he could make of it since she was covered by the cloak.

She suddenly wished they didn’t glow, so his intense expression could have been lost to the darkness.

“I’ll carry you.”

She jerked at that. “Oh. No. You don’t need to.”

“Too dark.”

“I can see just fine, Brovdir.”

“Too wet.”

“Being wet doesn’t inhibit my ability to walk.”

“Too . . . small.”

She almost laughed. “All right. Now you’re just making things up. I don’t need you to carry me. I’m just fine on my own.” To prove it, she began walking in the direction she supposed the village to be.

And immediately tripped on a thick root.

She yelped as she went down, but the sodden ground wasn’t what she hit. Instead, she slammed up against a firm wall of muscle. Hot and hard and smelling of spice and woodsmoke.

She should have pushed away from him. Absolutely should have immediately.

But . . . he was so warm .

Her half moment of hesitation was her undoing because Brovdir took full advantage and swung her up into his arms without preamble.

Her breath caught in her throat as he tucked her into his chest. His arms were banded around her back and under her knees. Her head was right next to his. The shock of it gave her pause.

Maybe... she could let him carry her for just a little while. Just until they were back at the main path leading to Oakwall.

He began a quick clip through the tree line, which was now pitched into near blackness.

Not even a glimmer of sunlight remained.

Another reason to let him carry her. The snow crunched under his feet as he walked, and the icy wind raked over her chilly skin.

The last of her anger and adrenaline wore off, and she began to shiver almost violently.

The orc carrying her tightened his grip, adjusting the cloak slightly so she was covered more thoroughly.

And then he finally spoke. “ Why ?”

His single grated word made her stomach flip. “Why... what?”

“Why are you out here?” He winced from the pain the words caused him and pity made her quick to answer.

“I—” Her throat constricted as new tears flooded her eyes. She couldn’t get the words out. It hurt too much.

She’d lost her mother’s bakery. She’d lost it.

“Trinia?” Brovdir’s voice was awash with concern and his hand curled around her waist, hot but gentle. She could feel the deadly prickle of his claws against her shoulder and leg before they flashed away, but his grip never loosened.

His warmth and strength distracted her from the pain and exhaustion flattened her.

She went a little boneless in his arms and he didn’t flinch.

He only adjusted her so she could rest her head against his shoulder if she’d wanted.

And Fades did she want to. She wanted to close her eyes and collapse against him.

She wanted to soak up his warmth and strength and let him chase away all her anxieties while she slept peacefully.

“Sorry.”

She blinked rapidly and adjusted so she could search his face. She could only see his expression by the light of his glowing eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Brovdir repeated.

“Sorry for what?”

He swallowed thickly and turned away, but said, “For... not seeing you.”

She couldn’t see his expression now that he wasn’t looking at her. “Why didn’t you come to see me?”

A slightly strangled noise came from his throat. His voice was incredibly raspy, and she supposed it would be cruel of her to force him to speak. She was too exhausted to quiz him, anyway.

She leaned her head down against his shoulder and he let out a little huff, only for it to dawn on her. He was taking her back to Oakwall Village.

And she didn’t have anywhere to go.