Page 3 of When the Merchant Met the Orc

“Not for me, sweetie,” I say, chuckling. “Not for me.”

“You’re weird, Ma. But I love you!”

He kisses my cheek, and I thank the Blessed Stones that I’m such a lucky person. I look to the second chair in the library, swallow, and hug Nate more tightly.

My parents were in love when I was very young, but their feelings soured as I grew. Instead of hugs and smiles, shouting filled our house. Every day, it grew worse. I swore to myself I would never fall in love, would never marry, and never experience that agony again. There isn’t any place in my life for romance. I’m committed to giving Nate the peaceful life I never had as a child.

Nate skips away, his footsteps padding down the corridor in the direction of the kitchen.

The kitchen is the opposite of my quiet library. His eighth birthday will be here soon, and he’s covered every surface with models of the cake he wants to make while I’m gone. The designs are made of anything and everything he can get his little hands on—rocks, sticks, empty crates, a hat box, and numerous chunks of tree bark.

“I think this one is the winner,” he says around a mouthful of apple as he points to the cake model to his left.

A cluster of oak leaves crowns the top of five stacked lengths of bark. Acorns ring the bottom layer.

“Is that moss you're using for icing?” I ask. “Sounds delicious.”

“Ma, stoppppp.” He rolls his eyes toward the ceiling. “You know it’s supposed to be vanilla icing.”

“Why not chocolate?” I ask.

“That’s your favorite,” he says. “Not mine.”

“It was your favorite a moon ago.”

“But not now. Now, I love vanilla the best. And nuts!”

I rub my stomach. “Ooo, yum. How about some cinnamon?”

“Maybe. Not too much.”

“Kaya will know exactly how much to add, I’m certain.”

Nodding vigorously, he bites into his apple.

A knock sounds at the front door, and he’s off and running before I can say a word. He trips over a stool, and I start toward him, but he is up and moving again in a blink. He jerks the door open, and a massive shadow falls over him.

Chapter 2

Rychell

My heart leaps. I’m pulling Nate away from the doorway before I realize it’s Halvard, not some giant miscreant here to cause trouble.

“Oh, Halvard.” I wave him inside. “Sorry, the sun was at your back. I didn’t see you properly at first.”

“No worries, Rychell.” The orc’s voice is deep and smooth. “How are you, Nate? Getting excited for your birthday?”

“I am! I’ll be eight!” Nate stomps around the room, chanting the number.

Halvard grins. He’s an orc, so of course he takes up a whole lot of space with those broad shoulders, powerful chest, and those arms… I swallow and force my eyes to his face so I can smile and stop ogling him. I have no desire for an affair.

“How can I help you, Halvard?”

He rubs his bearded chin; his hair is a sandy brown that is almost a ginger shade. The light catches the ring pierced through his lower lip. I wonder why he pierced his lip. I haven’t seen such a piercing on other orcs. His tusks—I think that’s what one calls them—reach about three inches above his mouth. Do they making eating and drinking difficult? I would think so. Kissing would be?—

“…but that’s the reason for my visit,” he says.

I realize that I missed his answer. Damn it. “I’m sorry. I haven’t had my tea yet this morning. Can you repeat that?”