Page 24 of When the Merchant Met the Orc
Nodding, Magnus sits back again. “Why won’t she consider you? Is she frightened by orc jewels?” He grabs at his groin and laughs, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
My face heats. Magnus is just so very Magnus. “Please, lower your voice, cousin. No, she doesn’t want any type of romance with anyone. In fact, she has decided to partner up with a Master Osric.”
A moan of disappointment comes from my cousin. He rubs his face with his hands. The top of his first right finger is missing; I remember the day he accidentally lopped it off while we were chopping firewood for Snowlight.
“She can’t get together with that wet blanket! Not when my strapping young cousin is available.”
“I’m thirty years old, Magus. Not exactly a young catch anymore.”
He waves to chase my words from the air. “Ach. Still virile as a buck in spring, I imagine. Our stock is the best and you well know it. You can’t let her make this mistake.”
“It’s her decision. I will try to woo her, but I’m not going to bully her about it. She knows how I feel about that and about her.”
Shaking his head, Magnus retrieves my cup and refills it, and his too. We drink in silence as the fire cracks and snaps. Aila’s trilling voice carries through the house, but they must be upstairs because I can’t make out a word of it.
Chapter 13
Rychell
In a room outfitted with pillows shaped like dusk hollows stacked in piles, a little hearth, and three full baskets of yarn, Aila speaks to me like we’ve known one another for ages. She basically shoves me into another carved, deep-seated chair. She talks as much and as quickly as my son, but the materials she chooses to chat about are definitely only for adults. The details of pleasing an orc. What their cocks look like. How the orcish culture includes introducing a potential mate to at least four family members before claiming. It all sounds so involved! Mouth never stopping, Aila draws knitting needles from the basket closest to the one long window. She drops into the chair beside me.
“A little advice,” she says quickly. “On the night that you fully mate, make sure you have him run for a while. It’ll help if he is a touch fatigued when he beds you. The first time, anyway.”
She hands me a pair of needles and a ball of blue yarn.
“Aila, I’m not?—”
As loud as a pack of young wolves, Aila’s younglings zip past the window on the southern wall, a blur of smiling faces and messy hair. Aila darts over, opens the glass, and shouts, “Don’t let Finlay play in the road, Roderick! Harris! Are you listening?”
The cacophony dies away, and she shakes her head, finding her seat again. “As I was saying, the claiming can vary from couple to couple, but generally orc males want a good three days alone with you, so you’ll need to plan for that.”
“Aila, please.” She doesn’t even seem to hear me.
“The chasing is very exciting though,” she says. “Don’t be afraid. They would do anything for their mates. You’ll always be safe with him. Just for the ease of your first time with him, I suggest making him run. Yes, definitely.”
“Make him run?” I ask, raising my voice. “You’ve mentioned running twice now and chasing. What in the name of the Blessed Stones are you talking about?”
Aila pauses in her knitting and tilts her head. “The orc mating ritual and the chasing instinct.”
“Halvard and I are just friends.”
She narrows her eyes at me and purses her lips. “No, you’re not.”
“Excuse me,” I say, getting a bit riled up now, “but even if you weren’t a stranger to me, you’d have no say in our relationship.”
She blinks, and her wings flutter behind her. They grab the light from the window and fire and scatter sparkling light like stars around the room.
“Halvard has never brought anyone to meet us. I assure you that you two are notjust friends.”
“I’m aware that he is attracted to me,” I say, trying to be patient. “I can’t lie; I’m also pulled to him physically.”
“So what’s the problem?” Aila asks. “Is it your human family? Are they prejudiced against orcs?”
“My parents passed away ages ago.”
“Phew, that’s good.”
My mouth falls open.