Page 24

Twenty-Three

When Korl emerged from the back of the tavern, Lira scrambled to rise from the chair despite the soft cushions’ attempts to keep her seated. Sass managed to get up quicker by vaulting the arm, which Lira had to admit wasn’t a bad strategy.

“All done?” the dwarf asked as she strode across the great room and met the orc halfway.

He set his tool caddy on the nearest table and gave a grim nod. “It’ll hold for now, but it’s on its last legs.”

Lira wasn’t surprised. She suspected the oven hadn’t been replaced or even repaired since the place had opened. Still, whatever patch job Korl had been able to do, it would be better than what they had.

“No more burned pastry?” Sass cast a look at Lira. “Assuming the baker keeps an eye on it.”

Lira scoffed and rolled her eyes at the dwarf as she reached Korl. “Ignore her. I won’t hold you accountable for the baking that comes from my oven, but I will insist that you let me make you something for your trouble.”

Korl opened his mouth, and Lira was sure he intended to protest. She held up a hand. “Do you have someplace to be?”

He clamped his mouth shut and shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Then you’ll let me make you some scones.” Then Lira added. “They’re my gran’s recipe, and I’m pretty sure I got it right.”

If Korl had any intention to protest more, Sass stopped him with a hand on the leather armor covering his forearm. “Please, let her make scones.”

Lira grinned at the dwarf’s dreamy expression. “I had no idea you were so fond of them, Sass.”

“You do remember that I’m used to gully dwarf porridge, right?”

Lira had forgotten how low the bar was for Sass. Korl’s expression had gone from pleased to confused, but Lira shook her head. “They’re significantly better than any type of porridge.”

She headed for the kitchen, pleased to see that the orc had cleaned up whatever mess he’d made while repairing the stove. Not that she should have been surprised. Soldiers were usually a regimented, orderly bunch. Now if he’d been a mercenary…

Lira shook off the shudder that swelled within her as she pulled out her mixing bowl and sack of flour. She’d barely tipped the flour into the bowl when Korl stepped into the room, his bulk seeming to take up half the space and a good deal of the oxygen.

“I’m not that fast,” Lira said and managed a grin she hoped didn’t give away too much.

“I thought I could help.”

She was glad she’d already poured in the flour or she certainly would have dropped the sack. “You’ve already helped me by fixing the oven. ”

He nodded but made no move to leave. She bit back a sigh. Maybe he wanted to see his handiwork in action or maybe he wanted to make sure the oven didn’t explode when she turned it on.

Despite having run with a crew, Lira was accustomed to working alone. When they’d needed to break into a locked vault, it had been nothing but her nimble fingers and silence. When they’d needed to know secrets that were whispered in the comfort of shadows, it had been her alone who’d slipped unseen through pools of darkness to gather them one by one.

But she couldn’t send him away. Not when he was the reason she’d be able to bake at all, and not when he was looking at her like he might crumble at the most delicately pointed word. Besides, she didn’t mind his presence. There was something tentative and sweet about him that was such a mismatch to his orc physique that she didn’t mind him being in her space.

“How are you at cutting butter?” she finally asked.

“I’m good with blades.”

Since he was a guardsman, Lira didn’t doubt this.

She gestured to the block of butter on the counter. “Half of that in small bits, please.”

He moved behind her, his body brushing hers as he took up the task. Lira focused on grating a papery cinnamon stick into the flour, the brown spice speckling the mound of white. They worked in silence until she felt his gaze on her back.

“If you’re done, you can drop that into the bowl,” she said, trying not to sound too commanding.

Korl was instantly at her side, his massive hands opening over the flour and unleashing a cascade of tiny yellow flakes. Lira smiled at how fastidiously he’d cut the butter. She glanced around for a pair of knives, reaching for the daggers he’d left on the counter behind her.

She deftly cut in the butter until the mixture was like sand, aware that the orc was watching her every move. He clearly wasn’t one who felt compelled to fill silence, so she didn’t attempt to engage him in conversation. Aside from that, the quiet in the kitchen didn’t need filling.

“I’ve eaten these before,” he said after a few minutes.

She tipped her head to meet his eyes, taken aback that he’d been the one to speak first. “Scones?”

He nodded then shook his head. “Your gran’s scones. She brought some to us once after my dads fixed her cart.”

Lira didn’t remember this, but she now knew there was a lot she didn’t remember. “Did you like them?”

Another nod and then several more moments of silence. “And we all liked her.”

Lira jerked her attention back to her bowl, pouring in a glug of cream and cracking an egg as the backs of her eyes burned. She folded the batter with a wooden spoon and then slung a handful of flour onto the table, her deft movements keeping her mind busy and the tears at bay. As she flopped the dough onto the surface and worked it into a flat disc with her fingers, a wisp of a memory fluttered to the surface. “That wasn’t the only time your dads fixed our cart.”

Korl shook his head, as she expertly cut the dough into wedges and transferred them to a baking sheet. He opened the oven door for her and they both braved a blast of heat as she slid it inside. “One time we got an apple spice cake.”

It warmed Lira’s heart that he still remembered the types of baked treats her gran had used to repay them.

“We ate the whole thing instead of supper that night,” Korl confessed. “I had a tummy ache the next day. So did my dads.”

Lira laughed, Korl’s memories of her gran’s baking unlocking something deep inside her, a joy that had been bundled snugly in grief. She laughed until tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, and the velvet rumble of the orc’s laugh joined hers. In that moment, Lira felt like she had when she’d baked alongside her gran. In that moment, she felt safe, she felt at home.

When she put a hand to her side, she gasped a hitching breath. “I’m not laughing at your tummy ache. I’m laughing at your dads letting you eat a whole cake.”

“They ate more than I did.”

She sucked in a breath. “That’s what’s so funny.” She looked up at Korl, his smile warming her. “I can’t promise that it will be as good, but I can try to make that cake for you.”

“You don’t have to,” he said, his voice suddenly solemn again. “That’s not why I told you that story.”

“I know.” She smiled at him, enjoying the flash in his dark eyes. “Maybe I want to.”

Korl cleared his throat and looked away, glancing at the oven instead of her. “Your gran wasn’t the only one who was nice. Do you remember sticking up for me?”

Lira searched her memory, vaguely recalling some bigger boys trying to provoke Korl when he’d been young and smaller. “They wanted you to fight them, right?”

He nodded. “Everyone thinks I should love to fight.”

The softness of his voice constricted her chest. “Everyone thinks I should have elvish powers, but I don’t, so I get it.”

He lifted his gaze to her. “You told those boys to get lost or you’d turn them into newts.”

“I did?” She shook her head. “I guess I was counting on them not knowing I don’t have powers, or that elves can’t transform people into newts. Not that I wouldn’t have turned them if I could. I hate bullies, and I know what it’s like to feel like you never quite fit in.”

An orc who didn’t relish battle and wasn’t loud and raucous wasn’t what anyone expected. If she was being truthful, Korl wasn’t what Lira had expected.

He didn’t reply but he didn’t look away. Lira tried not to squirm under the intensity of his gaze and the heaviness of the air between them, wondering if she should break the silence. Then he jerked his head to the stove and released a breath. “It shouldn’t burn anything else.”

“Thank you again for fixing it. You really didn’t have to. ”

“I wanted to.” As Korl took a step back with his gaze fixed on the oven door, Lira busied herself with clearing up her work area and quiet settled between them once more.

“Grognick’s beard, that smells good!” Sass walked into the kitchen with her nose lifted. “Are they ready yet?”

Lira had been so consumed with her conversation with Korl that she hadn’t noticed the pungently sweet aroma emanating from the oven. “Not yet.”

“If you have a moment before they’re out, folks might not say no to some of that fancy tea to go with their scones.”

Lira looked up at Korl after Sass had gone. “What folks?”