Page 16 of When the Merchant Met the Orc

“Good. Very good. You move like water, Rychell. It’s just your wrists being naughty.”

“I have naughty wrists?”

His laugh rumbles from his chest into my body. “Aye. They want to remain straight, and for this, they must cock.”

“They must what?” My face is on fire.

“You must cock your wrist a bit. Like this,” he says.

He uses his other hand to hold my arm until he has me set into position, but I can’t memorize this. I’m too discombobulated by him saying that word. Inwardly, I’m shaking my head at myself. His scent of whisky and soap envelops me, and heat pools low in my belly. I chew my lip and try to stop breathing completely.

Stepping back, he gently takes the knife from me. “All right. I think we should get back on the road. I don’t want to throw too much at you at once.”

“Yes. Good. Okay.” I take a deep breath and hurry to get Tamar into the harness.

We only stop once more to gather berries for a light meal and help Tamar with a rock stuck in her right front foot. Halvard has me run through the two knife motions while we nibble on the last of the cheese.

He boards the wagon again. “On the way back, I’ll teach you some defensive moves.”

“Thank you.”

I feel off. Like I’ve done something wrong. But I haven’t. I grit my teeth, annoyed at myself for worrying about what Halvard thinks of my plan to speak with Osric. I don’t need his approval. I don’t even really know him. He probably has no idea how messy love can be. He acts like nothing bothers him, well, aside from my plan for a contract and a marriage. I don’t want messy. I want peace. I’m not going to let this male, despite his good looks and kind heart, get in the way of my goal.

Chapter 8

Halvard

Honey Sands greets us with pearly cobblestone streets, low-slung buildings topped in blue tile, and dune-hued dusk hollows at every door. Aside from the occasional oak, the trees are shorter here by the coast. They’re mostly spindly things that don’t color like the deciduous ones at home. The inhabitants have strung the trees’ limbs with linen strips like we do in Leafshire Cove, but their Nocturne colors are sage green and dark gray.

Rychell has Tamar stop at what appears to be an inn. A plaque shows the address1345 Coast Crane. It’s a two-story structure, which is rare in this town. The sign shows a tankard overflowing with foam and a goblin grinning. After handing the cart and horse over to the inn’s stable lad, we walk past the two dusk hollows at the entrance and enter the establishment.

At a table near the kitchen’s open door, three goblins play dice. Beside them, a kingsguard leans against a wall and laughs with an orc. We trade a nod, the usual greeting from orc to orc. It’s always a good feeling to know someone has your back, even though they’re a stranger. One of the perks of orc culture.

Two long tables fill the rest of the area. A family of pixies and humans eats from steaming bowls of stew. Smells like carrots, potatoes, and clove-spiced cream. My stomach growls.

“Sorry.” I grimace at Rychell, who smiles kindly and talks to the innkeeper. “Two rooms and two meals, please.”

The innkeeper is a tall fellow, a water sprite that has the same look as Plum, the blue-haired, purple-winged tailor from Leafshire Cove. “No problem.”

I fight a sigh. I was hoping they were too crowded to give us two rooms, and I’d be forced into sharing with Rychell. Alas.

“Anything to drink?” the innkeeper asks.

Rychell looks to me.

My throat is dry as dust. “I’ll take a cider if you have it. Ale is fine if you don’t.”

“I’d like the same,” Rychell says.

The innkeeper sends a wee human lass upstairs with an armful of linens, presumably to ready our rooms, and we take a seat at the end of the long table that sits by the door. I take a deck of cards from my pocket and begin to shuffle.

“Want to play a round of Gryphon’s Quest?”

Rychell cracks her knuckles. “All right.”

I deal four cards each, then set the rest of the deck between us. Lifting the two cards nearest me, I spy a queen and a one. I’ll need to get rid of that queen quickly if I’m going to have a chance here.

Rychell grins like a cat in the creamer.