Page 51 of Her Orc Blacksmiths

“Let her breathe,” Korr murmurs as he walks up to us. He rubs his big hand on her back, soothing her. “I think you’re suffocating her.”

“Sorry!” Ivy releases me and swipes tears from her cheeks. “I’m just…ugh, I’m so angry on your behalf.”

“Well, that can’t be good,” I say, forcing some cheer into my voice even as my stomach curdles with worry. “Sit with us and you can tell us all about it.”

Morg and Torren have been following all this silently, but the moment I take my seat between them again, Morg pulls me onto his lap and wraps his arms protectively around me while Torren grips my knee in support.

Ivy collapses on the bench across from us, and Korr takes his place beside her. She looks around as if to make sure we won’t be overheard. I love her for it, for protecting my privacy.

“We arrived at the inn at dusk,” Ivy says. “We thought we might as well stay there for the night, give your parents a chance to write a reply and package up the rest of your things if needed.”

I nod, because that’s what I’d asked them to do—I only took the essentials when I left the inn, whatever I could pack in my saddlebags. I’d even given Korr and Ivy enough money from my weekly wages to rent one of my father’s donkeys if needed, so they wouldn’t have to carry all my things.

“Well…” She swallows, her throat working. “It turns out, we weren’t welcome there. Your father accepted the letter but told us in no uncertain terms that orcs are no longer allowed in his establishment since that mess happened with Uram and Rose.” She glances down the hall, where the couple are eating dinner, talking quietly amongst themselves. Then she turns to me and adds, “Please don’t tell Rose about this. I don’t want her to think…”

“That it’s her fault,” I finish for her. “Of course not. She didn’t do anything wrong.”

I’d known my father was mistaken then, and it seems he’s grown even more determined to keep orc customers at bay since then.

“What did he say after he read the letter?” I ask. “Did he at least let you wait in the taproom?”

We’d had some horrible rainy weather over the past week, and I can just imagine how dreary our village must have been—and how warm the taproom had always seemed whenever I’d come in from the cold. A sanctuary, a safe space to call home.

Ivy waves her hand impatiently. “No, but that’s beside the point. We didn’t have to wait long, because he came right back out and said?—”

Her voice stalls then, and she glances at Korr for support. The big hunter lets out a heavy sigh, his kind gaze tired and solemn.

“I’m sorry, Jasmine,” he rumbles. “Your father instructed us to tell you that you were no longer welcome in your home.”

A cold weight settles in my stomach at his words. “What?”

“He-he said he doesn’t want to hear from you,” Ivy chokes out. She presses her palms to her reddened cheeks, then sniffles, eyes bright with tears. “I’m so sorry. We’ve been debating over what to tell you, but I don’t want you to ever return to that godsforsaken place. If they think that, they don’t deserve you.”

Morg’s arms tighten around me, and I lean into him, needing comfort.

Torren takes my hand in his, his expression grave as he looks into my eyes. “I don’t know if this will make you feel better, but we are your family now. We will never turn our backs on you.”

“Never,” Morg echoes. “And if you’d like, we can go and have a word with your father.”

I shake my head immediately, though I’m still dazed. The last thing I want is to have some sort of fight between my father and my mates. I didn’t think he’d cut me off completely, but I knew when I wrote that letter that he wouldn’t be happy for me.

“Tell her the better news now.” Korr gently nudges Ivy.

She takes a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry. That village just… Every time we go there, I’m reminded why it’s good that I left.” She clears her throat, then places her hands on the table. “But as Korr said, there’s better news, too. Your mother came to find us after we’d made camp for the night.”

I lift my eyebrows in surprise. “She did?”

“Aye,” Korr confirms. “We took shelter in an old ruin that Rose and Uram told us about. She must have followed us.”

“Nearly scared me to death,” Ivy grumbles. “Korr didn’t hear her because of the rain. I thought the villagers had come after us.” She shakes her head, then adds, “She brought a bag of your things. I think she must have dashed to collect it the moment she heard of our arrival.”

Korr produces a lumpy linen bag from under the table and passes it to me. I’m still wrapped in Morg’s embrace, so Torren accepts it for me. I reach for it anyway, and Morg puts his arms around my middle instead, as if that’s all he’s willing to let go of in that moment. Then he puts his lips to my neck and kisses me gently, comforting me. The rush of affection I feel for him erases some of the hurt and disappointment that have settled in me since Ivy began telling us what had happened.

I peer inside the bag now, curious about what my mother had packed. I find some stockings, hair pins, a small silver mirror, and a bottle of rosewater she’d given me last year for my name day. There’s a slightly dry wedge of hazelnut cake she must have wrapped up for me, and a small coin purse containing four silver coins and a handful of coppers.

“I tried to tell her you didn’t need the money,” Ivy says dryly, “though I couldn’t mention we have a gold vein running through our Hill, of course.”

“What?” I snap my head up.

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