Page 38 of When the Merchant Met the Orc

“That went well, I think.” I feel nervous, though I can’t pin down why.

“Sure,” Halvard says sharply. “Of course. Very clean and tidy.”

“His office, you mean?”

“Oh yes, that too.”

“Say what you want to say, Halvard.”

“He’s got no personality, Rychell. I don’t understand how you can even consider hitching your cart to that horse. He’s an absolute bore.”

I give him a flat look. “You are terrible about letting me make my own choice.”

“I realize that!”

“Well, if you must know, Halvard, I’m not interested in flashy. I want steady. Predictable.”

“Loveless,” he snaps.

I grip the reins hard enough to crack my knuckles. “Yes. Exactly. Drama-free.”

“Dull as a wain’s first knife.”

“Right.” I turn to glare daggers at him.

“You’ve hit the target with that one, then. Hats off.” Halvard tips an imaginary cap in my direction.

My blood boils. “I don’t like your tone.”

“I don’t care.”

“Don’t you? I thought you… I, well, I…”

“You thought I would grovel at every turn because I’m sweet on you?”

“No, not like that.”

“Didn’t you? Sounds like that’s exactly what you thought. Let’s get loaded up and go. I’ve had enough of this job, if I’m honest.”

My heart shivers like he’s said something horrible, but it’s not bad. I do want to leave. I want to be free of this orc and his judgmental self.

“Sounds perfect,” I say tartly. “I’m more than ready to be on my own again with no one turning their nose up at my decisions.”

“So you’re looking forward to being alone at your home again with only Nate to keep you company?”

“I have friends.”

“Aye, you do.”

But even though he agrees with me, it doesn’t feel like I’ve won this argument or whatever this is.

The first third of the journey home is quiet and painfully uncomfortable. I drive the wagon while Halvard knits in the back. We switch up after Tamar has a break at a creek. I ride in the back, glaring at Halvard’s bag of knitting items.

“You two have such passion!” a tiny voice whisper-shouts. “I can’t wait for you to copulate!”

I jump and stare at Fiorella, the cherub faerie. “Damn it. You have to go. It’s not happening,” I whisper, glad the knock of Tamar’s hooves on the stony road covers the sound.

“It is happening! I can feeeeeeel it.” She spins in the air. “He will give you such a ride!”