Page 27 of The Orc Chief’s Baker (Orc Mates Of Faeda #4)

Chapter

Seventeen

TRINIA

S he’d said it. She’d gotten the words out. Her tongue burned and her stomach clenched and her heart felt like it was shattering into a million splintered shards in her chest. It was tearing her apart from the inside out.

This was real.

Her bakery was gone.

Everything had been taken from her.

Brovdir went still, eyes wide. She looked away, unable to meet them as she let out a little hiccuped sob. She tried to hold it back. She really did. She just couldn’t.

“I’ve lost everything .” She wasn’t sure he could even make out what she was saying. It was so garbled by sobs. “I lost my mother’s bakery. My family legacy. Almost a hundred years of hard work and it’s my fault.”

She covered her face more securely as the cries worked out of her chest. Her shoulders shook and her body trembled, and she couldn’t get her tears to stop .

There was shuffling, movement, steps approaching. She tried to dash the tears away, but more replaced them.

There was a quiet thump, and she looked up to find Brovdir kneeling before her. His shaggy hair hung over his green eyes and his mouth was set firm and his brow was gentle.

There was no pity in his face. No judgment or discomfort. Only... support.

And Trinia lowered her head back into her hands and sobbed harder and longer than she had since her mother died. Since she’d buried the only person she ever loved and who had ever loved her. All her security and safety was stolen away from her when her mother had passed.

Now it was happening all over again.

It wasn’t fair .

Brovdir shifted slightly, and she found herself reaching for his hand. His eyes went wide as she pulled it into her lap and clutched it tight, used him as an anchor. It wasn’t logical. He was a stranger. She shouldn’t even be here.

But she needed him.

And he didn’t pull away.

He kneeled before her with his steadfast strength and waited. He rode out the storm of her emotions with her and finally her sobs turned to shuddering breaths and her tears stopped flowing and her mind cleared.

“What happened?” Brovdir asked quietly, obviously sensing she had gotten herself back under control.

She swallowed and took a few deep breaths. “My stupid, drunkard father traded the bakery away to Ronhold.”

There was a moment’s pause before Brovdir asked, “The cobbler?”

“Yes. It sounds strange, doesn’t it?” A few more breaths, then she lifted her head and wiped at her cheeks again. “A man who works with feet wanting a bakery. But he’s one of the meanest, shrewdest businessmen in Oakwall.”

“Headman Gerald?”

Trinia shook her head. “There’s nothing the headman can do.

I saw the contract myself. After mama died, the bakery was my father’s.

His to keep or trade away. And he traded it.

” Her throat closed again, and she took a deep breath.

“No. This is my fault. I should have known he’d trade it.

He was so desperate for mead at the end, and he’d already traded literally everything he had except our rotting home, which no one wanted. Blast it .”

She felt a gentle brush to her fingers. Brovdir stroked her knuckles gently with the pad of his thumb. “Not your fault.”

“It is. The bakery was my responsibility. It was my duty to keep it running. If I’d just done more , I would have had savings. I could have bought it back from Ronhold. But I didn’t...”

Instead, she’d used all her spare time drawing up floor plans and daydreaming. She was a fool.

“You worked it. Should be yours.”

“That isn’t how it works.” Her body felt heavy and cold despite the thick cloak that was still nestled around her.

“And Ronhold is too cunning . He conned Rebekia out of her leather the day after his father dropped dead. Said the debt owed was his father’s responsibility, so he didn’t have to pay her back a cent and she should collect from the folk who’d bought the shoes the leather made.

He worked all that out before his father had even been buried .

There was nothing anyone could do, not even Headman Gerald, and Rebekia still struggles to this day. ”

Brovdir’s brow furrowed, and she had to work hard not to avert her gaze.

“And now Ronhold has his sights set on me . Not just the bakery. He knows he needs a baker to run it. He’s trying to convince me to marry Tobbis, his worthless, sniveling son. But I will never do that. Never. ”

The conviction in her tone was punctuated by Brovdir tightening his grip on her hand. His eyes turned dark as his brows came down. He was looking at her so intently she couldn’t help but squirm. She knew she must be a dreadful sight. Covered in mud, puffy eyes, red cheeks, leaking nose.

“Fades,” she said glumly. “Maybe it would have been better if that sinkhole had swallowed me up.”

She watched the orc’s face crumble, and suddenly, she was in his arms.

“Never say that again.” His voice was harsh next to her ear. His breath hot. “ Never .”

Trinia sat stiff and frozen as the huge male wrapped her up in his strength. His warmth. He felt so strong and solid and stable. The complete opposite of how she had felt when the ground had fallen out beneath her and the sinkhole had sucked her up.

It was like he was pulling her right back out of the depths all over again.

“ Never , Trinia,” he said again, right into the top of her scalp. Firm and confident and warm, and her body melted into him.

A hard, shuddering breath left her as she rested her cheek on his wide shoulder.

Her hands came up to rest against his bare chest. The muscles contracted under her touch.

So hard, but his skin was so soft. He smelled wonderful.

Like warm woods. A shady walk in summertime.

A gentle breeze and sweet, clean water. Familiar and soothing.

“I will do all I can to aid you, Trinia.” His warm words rustled her hair. “I vow it.”

How long had it been since she’d been given a hug? Since she’d felt so comfortable in someone’s embrace?

Not since her mother had died.

And it felt so good .

Would it feel this good when he bedded her?

A jolt of embarrassment shot through her, and she scrambled out of his embrace.

“I apologize,” he said rapidly. He backed away from her but stayed crouched, like she was an animal he was afraid to spook. “I forgot myself. I will not touch you again.”

“What? No, that’s not...” She’d messed this up. “It wasn’t you. It— The hug was nice. Thank you. I feel better.”

Brovdir’s eyes went huge, and his fingers twitched like he wanted to pull her into his arms again. She wished he would. She wished she could fall into his embrace and close her eyes and forget this night had ever happened.

But she couldn’t.

It was time to ask him. Time to set her plan in motion. She’d be his conquest, and he’d build her a new house. She just had to get the words out. Right now.

“Could I have a bath?”

Blast her worthless bread-based bones back to the Fades who’d made her.

He nodded instantly and got up from the floor. He crossed the room to the large trunk at the edge of the bed and pulled out a towel.

Why couldn’t she get the words out? It wasn’t a big thing. There were at least ten women at Oakwall who played conquest for orcs regularly and many more who had done it once.

Only once.

Because it was hard . Growing a child, feeding him at the breast for a season, passing him off to his father to raise... it would be so hard .

But would it be as hard as being homeless? As hard as being forced to live with Yerina again? As hard as being pressured by Ronhold to slave away in a bakery that wasn’t hers , day in and day out?

Brovdir waved her into the bathroom, and she followed, desperate for a distraction to her rounding thoughts. The room was small but clean and the bath was huge. It was lit by three torches and every fixture was made of wood, giving it a dim yet cozy feel.

“Thank you,” she murmured as he placed the towel on the edge of the sink. Her hand grazed down her soaked and muddy bodice. “Do you have any clothes I could borrow?”

His eyes grew wide for a half moment and then he went back to the trunk. He was so tall he had to duck through the doorway.

Her mouth went a little dry as she considered what it might be like to lie with such a huge male. She’d been with men before, but they’d been human. And small humans at that. Their attention had always been quick and efficient.

Being with this particular orc would be different.

He placed a clean, white shirt on top of the towel and turned to regard her with a tip of his head.

“I think that’s all I—oh, actually, can you pull that for me?

I’m a bit too short.” She pointed to the trapdoor above the tub.

She knew from Savili’s descriptions that it let heated water in from where it collected at the top of the tree.

Savili’s had a string attached, though, so she could easily pull to start it without Iytier’s help.

Brovdir crossed the room and pulled down the slender door. A thin wooden pipe popped out from inside and a cascade of steaming water fell into the tub. It warmed the room up in an instant, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank you.” She turned to the orc, who was edging toward the door.

“Take your time.” And with that, he turned on his heel and shut the bathroom door behind him.

And then she was alone with her thoughts—again.