Page 32 of Her Orc Blacksmiths

“I have four sisters, remember?” He grins.

Then Torren returns from the bathroom alcove, carrying my dress. It’s considerably less wrinkled than before, if slightly damp, but I know it’ll dry quickly in the warm corridors of the Hill. I dip into the bathroom quickly to wash my face.

Torren and Morg are waiting for me when I step out. Morg surprises me by closing the distance between us and kissing me. It’s a quick, hard kiss, all tongue and teeth, and I cling to him to return it. He lets me go just as quickly and all but shoves me at Torren, whose kiss is slower but no less thorough. By the time he releases me, I’m wide-eyed and panting, but I have no time to ask what this was all about.

“Thank you,” I breathe, looking from one to the other. “I’ll see you later?”

“Aye, now run,” Morg says. “We’ll find you.”

Outside the door, Rose is waiting, leaning on the wall. “Oh, I thought you’d take longer.” She looks me over, then adds, “You certainly seem more put together than before. Not that I disliked how you were before, it was very becoming.”

I nudge her. “Stop. I know it was terrible.”

But she frowns and grips my arm, stopping me. “I’m serious,” she says, her voice low. “You looked happy, Jasmine. Disheveled but happy.”

Now my throat closes up a bit, and I don’t know what to say. In the end, I settle for the truth. “I am happy.”

Rose grins, and we set off again, walking quickly down the hall.

“So, tell me all about it.”

Heat rises up my neck and into my cheeks. “There’s nothing to tell really.”

She raises one eyebrow at me, and I can’t help but laugh.

“All right,” I admit. “They said I wouldn’t have to choose between them. We’re…still figuring it out.”

“Fantastic,” she says. “I know you will. They’re good for you, I can already tell. But if you ever need anything, I’ll show you where Uram and I live. You’re welcome to visit us anytime.”

The incredible generosity moves me so much, I have to swallow several times before I can speak again. “I’m sorry for not doing more when my father cast you out from the inn,” I rasp finally. “It was wrong, and I should have helped you.”

“You did,” she says, her eyes bright. “And it all worked out in the end. If he hadn’t pushed me out, I might never have made my way here. And I’m happy, Jasmine.”

By the noise of the breakfast crowd, we’re nearing the great hall. The large space is bustling again, only this time, there are many more children running past us. They dart around tables and chase each other while their parents try to finish their meal in peace.

“School starts early,” Rose says, speaking loudly to cut through the din. “They’ll head out soon enough, and it’ll get a bit quieter then.”

“I don’t mind,” I tell her.

And I don’t. I love watching the children play. From the way they’re galloping through the crowd, this must be a regular thing for them, and no one is really stopping them from playing, apart from an occasional adult stepping in before the play can devolve into a fight. There are children of all ages, from little orcs barely toddling around to teenagers huddled at their tables, talking in hushed voices.

Rose weaves her way between tables, and I follow close behind, not wanting to lose my friend in the sea of much taller orcs. She leads us to a spot not far from the raised table, where an orc woman several years older than me sits alone, reading at breakfast. I have a moment to study her before she notices us. Her beautifully made gown is fit for a lady, which I suppose she is if she’s running the Hill. Her long dark hair is pinned back in a lovely twist, and her ears are adorned with several gold hoops that glint in the torchlight.

“Hello, Mara,” Rose says as she slides onto the bench opposite the orc steward.

Mara looks up and offers us a distracted smile. “Oh, you came. Thank goodness, distract me from these, please. My head is swimming with numbers.”

I study the book she has set down. It’s a large ledger, filled with columns of numbers, all neatly written out in ink. My father had a similar book, only it wasn’t quite so organized—or extensive.

“Are you feeling all right?” Rose asks tentatively.

Mara lifts a cup of tea to her full lips and takes a sip. “Aye, it’s nothing. I only think my monthly courses will be here soon, and I’m always a bit out of sorts when that happens. I’ll have to visit Taris and ask for a tea to help with the cramps.”

I goggle a bit, unused to discussing feminine issues with such frankness, but it shouldn’t surprise me in the least. If orcs talk about intimate relations easily, why shouldn’t Mara speak about her body the same way?

“A hot water bottle always helps me,” I offer. “And sleeping the day away if I can manage.”

Mara’s smile brightens. “That’s exactly what orcs do, too. I’m not usually fond of getting my courses, but I must admit I’m looking forward to taking a few days off work.” She motions at the ledger. “The stores from our harvest have all been put up, and it’s time to record everything before the winter.”

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