Page 5 of When the Merchant Met the Orc

“As you wish.”

I fill him in on my business plan and how I want to send Nate to Ivydowns school. “Plus, I love discovering new spices and sharing them with Kaya. It’s my favorite part of the work. So you see, I need to keep things tight and tidy, business-wise. Stay the course and all that.” I take a quick breath and finish my tea. “I’ll write up a contract and send it to you shortly, all right?”

His lips pull inward, and he rubs his beard again. “We don’t need a contract.”

“I do. That’s how I like to do business, so there aren’t any possibilities for discord.”

He drinks from his cup. It looks like a youngling’s toy in his big hand. Setting the cup down with a graceful, careful movement that’s surprising considering his bulk, he agrees.

“I’ll do whatever you think is best,” he says.

His voice is smooth as well as low—looking at him, one wouldn’t guess his voice is so pleasant. I would have thought he spoke gruffly because he looks like he stepped out of a cautionary tale about the dark woods.

We settle on a departure time for the morning, then I walk him to the door. He leaves with a smile and a wish for a fine day.

Nate is tugging at my skirts. “He’s a nice orc.”

“He is.”

“I bet he could take on every ruffian in the entire world.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe? Did you see his hands, Ma? They’re as big as my whole head!”

My mind paints the image of Halvard’s hand on my arm, his fingers gentle despite their size. It’s a memory from the last time I went to the pub, and he happened to be there at the door. He held it open for me and cupped my elbow as I entered. I take a steadying breath and shake the memory away. So silly.

I ruffle Nate’s hair and shut the door. “Get washed up, now. We have some errands to run before you help me pack the cart.”

While Nate washes, I head out back to our courtyard, which is truly just a patch of tall grass. The table we use to sell spices at the market is folded and set up against the stable’s outer wall. Last night’s rain wet the top, so I lift it and haul it under the stable’s sturdy slate roof to dry. Tamar’s black head appears above the stall door. The mare nickers and huffs, and I obey the demand by smoothing her hair from her eyes and rubbing her neck.

“Morning, sweetling. Did you eat well yesterday?” On my tiptoes, I peer past her into the stall and see nothing left of the alfalfa I set there for her. “Good girl. We’re leaving tomorrow on a fairly long journey, so let’s keep up that eating.”

She had lost her appetite for a few days there and had me worried. Delixian, the town healer, said it was only a stomach trouble due to eating starleaf saplings. The little trees had sprung up at the far corner of the courtyard, and Tamar had nibbled them down before I noticed them. The trees are perfect for shrub gryphons, but they always make horses ill.

I brush Tamar thoroughly and then let her out into the morning sun. She trots and kicks her heels a bit, enjoying the stretch. She canters up to me and sets her head against mine. I run a palm down her warm, obsidian coat and inhale her nice, familiar scent.

“We will be traveling with an orc. Halvard. He’s a lovely male, but I think he has a crush on me, Tamar. We have to squash that idea. I have no desire for anything like that. Nothing messy.”

Tamar snorts as if she agreed wholeheartedly.

I give Tamar an apple slice from my pocket and say a silent prayer to the Blessed Stones that this trip goes smoothly.

Chapter 3

Halvard

Iwalk through town, enjoying the carved gourds—dusk hollows—set about. At the pub, we usually carve six so there’s one at every entrance, including windows. They flicker with candlelight. It’s an old tradition for Nocturne, designed to help the visiting spirits find their way into their loved ones' homes to bless them. My mind wanders back to what Rychell said about our contract. I wish she would relax and trust me.

The longing to take care of her thrums through me like a ballad. I can imagine knotting her hair on top of her head and massaging her shoulders and neck. She doesn’t have anyone to do that for her. I would be completely content weeding her kitchen garden and tending to Tamar so she could nap, read, or research her heart out. And then, in the evening, I’d take her to bed and find her favorite ways to be touched. I’d whisper my love into her ear and show her with my hands and my body how treasured she is. I want to be the one who cracks that icy surface and brings the warmth hiding inside her into bloom.

Cyrus waves his scaled, green hand in front of my face. “Halvard!”

I trip on an uneven cobblestone. “Oh, hi.” He looks worried. “What’s wrong?”

My dragon shifter boss snorts a laugh and leads me into his pub, The Gold Coin. “I think you’re the one who needs to answer that. Did you hit your head, friend?”

I shove him gently. “Shut it, dragon. I’ve been at Rychell’s.”