Page 39 of The Orc Chief’s Baker (Orc Mates Of Faeda #4)

The warrior’s expression shifted to one of dismay as he looked toward the cauldrons, but he nodded and said, “Yes, Chief.”

Brovdir exhaled with relief and walked toward the exit. As he did so, his eyes scanned the room, focusing on one particular area.

The table where the families sat together.

Govek was seated nearest, with his arm around Miranda and the three boys they’d adopted, chattering happily as they scarfed down their meal. Next to them sat Iytier who bounced his infant son on his lap while his mate laughed at something Miranda said.

They looked happy. Full.

He wanted that.

His chest tightened around the sharp truth. He’d always wanted that, hadn’t he? Maybe that was why he’d only ever taken women who he knew would refuse to play conquest.

He didn’t want Trinia as his conquest. He wanted her as his mate.

He wanted her.

And he’d thought of the perfect way to win her.

He quickly carried the bowls of fruit out of the hall and pretended not to hear whenever any of the orcs called after him, demanding his attention.

His mind was centered on convincing Trinia to meet with him regularly and advise him about the clan.

That was how he would get her to see him often.

She’d been born and raised here. She knew every orc and male personally. She could give him valuable information. Perhaps every day. In return, he’d build her a home. Slowly. Very slowly. So slowly that she would have to stay with him here in the meantime.

And if he was lucky, perhaps, by the end, she might decide that the home he’d built for her at Oakwall wasn’t as good as the one they shared here in Rove Wood Clan.

Fades, please, let her choose to stay.

He all but kicked down the door when he finally arrived home.

Only to find she was standing at his desk. A cold chill raced over him.

He’d forgotten to close the roll top.

“Trinia?” His heart was up in his throat.

She turned, and he saw the letters held tight in her hands. Correspondence from Karthoc about the prophecy.

Fuck.

“What is this, Brovdir?” Her expression was flat, unreadable, tense. “Brovdir, tell me what these are.”

“Letters. From Karthoc.”

Her eyes flashed with fury, and he couldn’t catch his breath. “That isn’t what I’m talking about, and you know it. According to these, over thirty clans and communities of orcs from outside Rove Wood are going to settle here within the next few seasons. Is that true?”

He couldn’t lie to her. He forced a nod.

She covered her mouth with her hand, and her eyes turned glossy with tears. He felt like his heart was being trampled on. What could he do? What could he say to make this right?

Then she blinked away her tears and her voice came out sharper than his finest blade. “You must be jesting! You told us it would only be fifty warriors at most!”

He swallowed and averted his eyes. They landed on a sketch on the floor under his desk that he didn’t recognize. A floor plan of a house.

His house. She’d drawn his home?

“These numbers—it’s going to be thousands of orcs. How can you think that Rove could even hold that many? Our resources might be plentiful for the few hundred we have, but thousands ? And so soon? It’s not possible!”

He looked back to her face, unable to find words.

“And what’s this about a prophecy and Earth? Does Miranda have something to do with this? Why? How ? I’ve spoken to her at nearly every trade since her arrival and never once has she mentioned this.”

“Sythcol ordered silence.” Brovdir felt guilty for pushing the blame off, even as the words left his lips.

“Oh, did he? Why am I not surprised?” Trinia snapped, throwing down the papers. Then she went still, eyes widened on the stack before they snapped to him. The ice in them sent a shiver down his spine. “He’s told Headman Gerald at least?”

Brovdir gulped so thickly his throat began to throb.

He shook his head

“ Brovdir .” Hearing his name spoken so harshly by her hurt more than the crack of a whip across his back. “You cannot be serious! Tell me you’re lying.”

“Not lying.”

“ Why ?” She threw out her arms. “What justification does he have to keep something so vital from us?”

“Did not want to threaten the peace. Was afraid you would leave.”

Even as he said it, he could see how wrong it was.

Trinia’s face contorted. “Brovdir, keeping this from us is what will ruin the peace. The sinkholes are already bad enough, but this? This is inexcusable. This isn’t just about the wellbeing of a few villagers who like to walk in the woods, this will affect our entire community.

It will affect our relationships, our trade, our resources .

Explain how you think keeping this from us is justified.

Look me in the eye and tell me you agree with Sythcol’s decision. ”

He couldn’t. He truly couldn’t think of any justification for keeping the prophecy from them.

But that is what Sythcol had demanded, so that is what they’d decided to do.

Trinia shook her head in disbelief, clearly reading him. “ Brovdir . If you thought that keeping this secret from us was a bad idea, then why did you do it ?”

The pain in his throat was an inferno that spread through his whole body. The imprint was thundering agony, and he worried his chest might explode.

“Sythcol . . . ordered me not to.”

Trinia dropped her arms and her jaw went slack. Tears welled in her eyes and, once again, she blinked them away.

Her voice was deadly quiet as she said, “You’ve followed orders your whole life, Brovdir, so I understand how difficult it must be to change. But you are a chief now. There’s absolutely no excuse for allowing something like this to be kept secret when even you can see how wrong it is.”

She moved around him and went to the door. The need to cage his arms around her and force her to remain at his side was blinding.

But so too was the fear of what forcing her to stay would do.

She turned back only once to look him in the eyes. Her tears had broken free and were creating tracks down her cheeks.

“I think we need to part ways here, Brovdir. Please, don’t follow me.”

With that, she was out the door, and only the sound of it slamming behind her remained.

His muscles bunched with the need to chase her down. He paced the room to fight his instincts. Forcing her would ruin everything .

She’d ordered him not to follow her. She’d ordered him .

His eyes shifted to her drawing on the floor, and he crossed the room to scoop it up.

She’d drawn a floor plan of his house with two bedrooms.

Had she been considering living here with him?

His chest filled with emotions he had no name for. The imprint thrummed in his veins. His longing to be with her, to keep her, outweighed all logic.

Outweighed all orders.

He shoved her sketch into his waistband and followed after her.