Page 37 of The Orc Chief’s Baker (Orc Mates Of Faeda #4)

Chapter

Twenty-Seven

TRINIA

A pparently, Brovdir was able to take command of a situation when he wanted to.

That fierce determination combined with the rumbled “good girl” had cued her up so hot she was both regretting his departure and relieved by it. She needed a few moments to catch her breath.

Her stomach clenched with dismay as she tried to convince herself that he really just wanted to get her food before begetting her with child. That’s all this was.

He hadn’t changed his mind.

And . . . she hadn’t changed hers either.

She shook her head to push away the anxiety. The deal had been struck. She would not back out now. She needed to stop overthinking everything and relax.

Brovdir’s grinning face flashed in her mind’s eye. His big eyes and his calm demeanor and his rumbly perfect voice.

“Good girl.”

She sucked in a breath and pushed herself off the bed. She was being ridiculous.

She looked around the room to distract herself from her anxiety.

Her eyes landed on her dress hanging on the back of one of the table chairs next to the still crackling fire. It had been cleaned and appeared to now be dry.

Brovdir had gotten up and done that while she was sleeping?

Her heart tugged at the thought, and she crossed the room to finger the blue wool gown. It was only a little damp, and most of the mud stains had been scrubbed out. So much work.

His words spiraled through her mind again.

“It is my honor to serve you and keep you hale.”

A little shiver coursed up her back, and it had nothing to do with being naked.

When was the last time she’d relied on someone to take care of her? Not since her mother had died, surely. Even longer. Her mother had gotten sick, and Trinia had gone from child to caretaker.

She shook her head, unhappy with these thoughts. Usually, she had her baking or sketching to keep her distracted from unpleasant memories.

There certainly wasn’t any baking to be done here . It wouldn’t even be possible. The kitchen area, if one could even call it that, was tiny, and the stove was only large enough to fit the kettle. All orcs ate together in the hall, so there was no need for anything more.

She moved around the room, taking time to examine everything as she went. He had very few personal effects. It made sense he wouldn’t, since he’d been on the move for war campaigns all his life, but it was disappointing. She would have liked to see more of his interests.

She shook the thought from her head. His interests didn’t matter. She was playing conquest for him, not forming a relationship.

Her heart squeezed at that, and she ignored it.

She moved off to the only cluttered place here, a rolltop desk at the corner of the room.

The craftsmanship was excellent, and she was certain it had been made by Savili’s father.

It was cluttered with parchment and black coal pencil marks.

It took her a moment to realize that the beautiful swooping handwriting was Brovdir’s .

She supposed it made sense. He couldn’t talk much, so he’d have to write to communicate often. But still, the image of that huge, scarred male writing so beautifully...

Would he write to her if she asked?

Her cheeks warmed as she smiled.

She quickly wiped it off her face and muttered, “He’s not going to write to you, you dolt. What would he write for?” They only needed to talk about the building and perhaps pregnancy updates from here on. They probably wouldn’t see each other much.

She sighed, but it did nothing to ease the heaviness that had settled over her.

Her eyes scanned the large, open room again. There were very few furnishings and a lot of empty space. The bed was also right across from the door, which left little to no privacy.

A few walls would help. Maybe a built-in bookshelf so he could organize some of these papers. And if she did that, there could be a little nook area near the fire that would be quite cozy.

Her fingers twitched to sketch it the way she’d done so many times before. Daydreaming about how her own home might look had been her favorite pastime, but redoing Brovdir’s was an interesting challenge.

She glanced at the desk with its papers and pencils.

He wouldn’t mind if she used some, right?

“It is my honor to serve you.”

She picked up a paper and charcoal pencil and quickly sketched the outline of the tree with the furniture. She spent time figuring out what could and couldn’t be moved. The table was attached to the floor and so was the couch, but the bedframe was adjustable.

Before long, she’d sat down on the chair and had used up three pieces of paper. She reimagined the space into a dwelling with two smaller bedrooms and an open living space.

Perhaps if things didn’t work out with having her own house in Oakwall, she could ask to move in here.

Oh, biscuits. She needed to stop thinking about this.

She reached for another paper and accidentally knocked a whole stack. They flew off the desk and scattered all over the floor.

“Blast,” she muttered, getting down on her knees to clean up. The little slips were clearly bird missives.

She shouldn’t snoop.

She really shouldn’t.

But she couldn’t help herself.

She picked up the first slip.

Toclad Clan and Welvio Clan are both preparing to travel. Suspected arrival, late winter. Estimated 430 adult orcs, 90 sons, 12 mates. Needs at least 200 new homes in Rove Wood to accommodate.

Trinia read the parchment again. And then a third time. Still, she couldn’t quite understand what she was reading.

They’d been told that warrior orcs were coming to settle in the Rove Woods, but only a few hands’ worth. Perhaps fifty at the most.

Four hundred and thirty adult orcs . Two hundred new homes.

That . . . didn’t make sense.

She shouldn’t snoop anymore. This wasn’t her business.

She really shouldn’t.

But she did anyway.

She picked up the stack of parchment and began to read.

Arrival at Toclad. Told of prophecy. Refusing to leave. Want to wait till spring. -Karthoc

Trinia’s hand was shaking as she picked up another.

Toclad relented after Seer showed Earth vision to Chief. Will leave after preparations are made. Suspected late winter arrival. 203 males, 52 sons, 8 mates. -Karthoc

Earth vision? What did that mean?

Why were the warrior orcs from outside Rove Wood come here ?

She scoured over every letter, parchment, and note on the desk, searching for answers. Hands shaking. Blood hot. Her breathing grew heavy.

She didn’t find any details she wanted. Nothing about the prophecy or the seer’s vision. But one thing was certain.

The orcs of Rove Wood, including Brovdir, were keeping far more secrets than she could ever have fathomed.