Page 12 of When the Merchant Met the Orc

“Oh, he did until I knitted him a tail sleeve for deep winter. I won him over with that.”

Her laugh is music. “He’s a good friend, huh?” she asks.

I snort. “He’s the physical manifestation of trouble, but aye, he is the best of friends.”

“He and Kaya make a lovely couple.” Rychell’s voice echoes off the ravine’s rocky walls.

“I’ll box his ears if he ever breaks her heart, but I know it won’t be necessary.”

Rychell’s pretty gaze studies my face. “Because he won’t hurt her?”

“Well, that and Tully would turn him to ash before I had the chance for my revenge.”

We chuckle, and I wonder if Tully will tell my fortune at the Nocturne Festival this year. And if she does, will it include Rychell?

Tamar’s hooves hit the rockiest bit of the area, and the clicking and clacking are loud against the rock walls. I eye the top of the ravine, over our heads. This would be a perfect place to attack someone. My blood rises at the thought of defending Rychell.

I tuck my long knitting needles and my hat-in-progress into my sack and lean an arm across the back of the empty side of the bench. The breeze picks up as Tamar takes us deep into the ravine. The air wafts Rychell’s scent over my face, and I inhale deeply. Cinnamon and the salt of her skin. Blessed Stones, she smells amazing. I long to lick my way from her toes to her pretty head. I adjust my trousers and thank the stones that humans can’t scent arousal like orcs. I plan to seduce her, but I don’t want to be seen as the longing pup that I truly am when it comes to her.

“I’m going to walk behind the wagon,” I say.

Rychell’s head turns, and she gives me a narrow-eyed look. “Why?”

“Because I have a feeling that I’m not too keen on.”

“Oh no.”

I grab my sword and extend the shield toward Rychell. “Oh yes. Take this. Put it on your right arm.”

“All right.” She does as I requested, her movements jerky.

I hop off the cart and walk alongside. “Don’t worry. I can handle this.”

“You’re sure we are going to be attacked.”

Eyeing the ravine’s edge, I lift my head and sniff the air. There’s more fresh water nearby. Rychell’s scent is there, of course. Tamar’s, too. The herbs.

And the stench of unwashed bodies, as well as pipe weed.

“I am sure,” I say quietly. “Keep your head ducked down as best you can and keep Tamar moving. If I say go, you get her going as fast as you can. Don’t wait for me. I’ll be fine.”

“I hate this.”

“Everyone but the thieves hate this.”

She nods and gives the reins a gentle lift so they tap Tamar’s back. The mare increases her speed to a fast walk.

The hairs on my arms rise. I whip around as a figure in a black cloak leaps into the road behind us. The attacker has two long knives, and he isn’t flashing them around like an idiot. He knows how to fight. I parry his first two strikes and get in a cut to his thigh. He’s wearing thick leathers. The wound isn’t deep enough to drop him, but his movements do slow. Another two figures climb down from the top of the ravine and head toward me. I feign a high slice, then drop low. Flipping my sword, I knock out the first fellow with the hilt of my sword. His compatriots are on me fast. I lose myself to the training embedded in my blood. My body knows what to do—whipping the sword left and right, completing quick strikes, and moving my shoulders in a way that will throw off these experienced fighters. With a solid hit to the temple with the flat of my blade, the second thief is down, out cold. I dip right, then drive a left hook into the last attacker’s jaw. He is asleep before he hits the dirt.

Panting, I turn to catch up with Rychell, but Tamar has stopped. Rychell is standing up in the wagon and staring at me, her shield still lifted. She’s safe. I shut my eyes and thank the Blessed Stones. I hop into the wagon, take the shield from herand set it down in the cart, sheathe my sword on my back, and then grab her upper arms.

“You all right?” I ask, checking her for signs of shock. She looks dazed but well enough.

“Aye. Fine,” she says. “You were…”

I let her go and eye my shirt and trousers. I only have a wee bit of blood here and there, so I don’t think it’s that.

“What is it, Rychell? I’m sorry if I scared you. I didn’t kill them. They’ll wake up with vicious headaches, but they won’t be ruined in case they decide to turn to good.”