Page 9 of The Orc Chief’s Baker (Orc Mates Of Faeda #4)
“My best cheese roll. Govek will love it,” Trinia lied through her teeth. Govek would probably hate it. Or at least she hoped he would. She hoped he wouldn’t take Yerina back. No good had come from their relationship, only chaos.
Yerina snatched it out of her hand with a haughty smirk. “There. Was that really so hard?” She moved off toward the door and Trinia breathed a sigh of relief. “Maybe if you wagged your tongue around someone’s cock as often as you wagged it at me, you’d have a man by now.”
Trinia’s anger rose in the back of her throat and made her eyes sting, but she kept the hurt off her face as her sister turned back and looked her up and down.
“Though I suppose he would also have to be blind. ” With that, Yerina burst into cackles and slammed the door behind her.
Trinia clenched her fists hard enough that the bite of her nails distracted her from her anger.
Yerina might have been the pretty sister, but her vindictive personality hadn’t won her any friends.
Only men who were desperate to win her favor.
Men who often tripped over themselves to give her anything and all because she was beautiful.
Would... looking nice help win over the orc?
On a hard exhale, she moved off toward her clothes trunk and began digging toward the bottom to find her best dress. The one she saved for weddings and funerals.
It was tighter than she remembered, hugging her curves and stretching around the buttons.
She wasn’t the least bit surprised she’d gained some weight.
She hadn’t been able to trade for anything but bread supplies since her pans had been stolen.
She was always in the bakery, constantly kneading and mixing and baking.
The moment she felt like she had time to herself, she’d look over and see dishes that needed scrubbing or a counter that needed to be wiped or bread that needed to be shaped and scored. She opened her eyes in the morning and her work was the first thing that greeted her.
She couldn’t escape.
Her throat felt tight. She shouldn’t want to escape. This was her legacy. Her mother and grandmother and great-grandmother’s life’s work. It was an honor to carry out that tradition.
She got up and brushed off her skirts, going back to work.
Readying for the trade was always a hassle.
There was so much to do . So many orders to arrange and pack, to say nothing of the goods she’d use to decorate her table.
Today was especially difficult because she had the added task of evaluating each loaf and deciding whether the black at the edges was too bad to be traded.
But she got it done, and soon enough, Victir was loping up the dirt path to her bakery. She gave the usually quiet and calm older man a smile and found the white bread she’d made him.
“Here you are, Victir. Thank you for pulling my cart again today. The family isn’t coming with you?” His wife and four children almost always attended the trade with him.
Her brow creased as she looked at his empty arms. He didn’t reach out to take his bread. Her hand lowered slowly. “Where are your fabric samples? Are you not going to take any commissions today?”
His eyes grew wide a moment and then understanding flooded his warn features. “You weren’t at the town meeting this morning.”
“No, I wasn’t. What’s going on?”
Fades, what if the trade had been called off for today?
“The warlord is visiting with an entire troop of warriors.”
Trinia felt suddenly very cold. Her eyes grew so wide she could feel the breeze on them.
Victir continued as if he didn’t see Trinia had been struck dumb. “Viravia sent word late last night and asked if they all could attend today. Nearly fifty of them.”
“How . . . er . . . I mean, when did they get here?”
“Couple days ago now.”
It all clicked rapidly into place then. The scars, the way he’d easily scared off the cat, the good quality knife and blacksmithing skills...
The orc wasn’t a courier, he was a warrior .
A warrior for the dreaded Warlord of Baelrok Forge.
She went so dizzy with shock that for a moment she thought she might be sick.
“I don’t feel right going.”
She rapidly came back to present and stared at Victir in muted shock.
“I appreciate you making the bread, but I’ll not bring my kids into a fray of orcs worse than Govek.
No matter what the headman says.” Victir stepped away, shaking his head.
His graying hair was messy, as if he’d been raking his hands through it in worry.
“Sorry, Trinia, I won’t be able to pull your cart today. ”
Her breath caught in her throat and her stomach clenched so hard she felt nauseous. “But... Victir, I can’t pull it on my own.” It was stacked full this time. There was just no way.
And it didn’t matter who the orc was. Warrior or courier, she needed to get these pans commissioned. She just had to!
“Terribly sorry,” Victir stepped back. “I’ve got to get back. My kids are in a right state.”
With that, he turned on his heel and began a rapid pace down the path into town.
“Victir!” Trinia called, stepping forward to follow him, but the set of his shoulders told her it was no use. His mind was made up.
She watched him disappear into the trees. Smoke from the other homes curled above the oaks and firs. A few of the log cabin houses peeped between the foliage. Just a short way up the path stood the gates of Oakwall. All those who were attending the trade today would already be gathering there.
There was no time. The trade group would be leaving in a few moments. Anyone who was attending the trade would be gone. She’d not be able to find another person to pull for her.
She left her wares and her cart and bolted toward the gates.