Page 33 of Secret Twins for the Orc

“Because there’s huge communities of fae folk in all the largest cities, and I doubt they all have underground fairy springs or ancient rocks or something.” I pick up a tiny cauldron to inspect, and although I let go of Rhokar’s hand, he remains exactly as close to me as I left him. My inward grin begins to turn outward. “So then, what does this magic grove do?”

“It’s earth magic. It…sustains us.”

“What? How?”

His eye twitches as I turn to face him. “With magic.”

I’m gearing up to begin bugging him about something he clearly doesn’t know how to answer, just to see him squirm, when a third voice joins us.

“Think of it more like the power of nature.” A plump, good-natured looking older woman appears from behind Rhokar’s huge frame, glancing at me from where she was inspecting a long silver stirring rod. “The magic of growth—of fertility, health, and balance. It’s like an underground water reserve that seeps into the earth all around it, keeping the land and its people healthy.”

“Oh,” I say thoughtfully, as Rhokar takes an immediate step away from me and rubs his neck. “So it’s more like a power bank, rather than a spell or something?”

“That’s what I said,” he mutters under his breath, and I smirk and pat his forearm consolingly. You said mice and moles and made no sense, but okay. There, there.

“That’s a nice modern way of putting it,” the woman says. She has a long, salt-and-pepper braid that sits thick over her shoulder and nearly reaches her bellybutton, kind gray eyes, and a mesh tote bag already brimming with clanking, bright items. “A power bank. I’ll remember that. Although unfortunately, our power is starting to drain, both here and around the world.” She waves the seller over and gestures at the silver item still in her hand, even as she smiles at us.

“Ismelda, please, we don’t need another of your lectures about the old ways,” Rhokar sighs, but before she can respond a bolt of recognition flashes through me, and I jump in.

“Ismelda? Wait, you’re the wonderfulwitch who found me and helped me get my job?” I’d never exchanged more than emails with her and couldn’t have recognized her by face or voice.

“Well, there aren’t all that many humans around here,” she says warmly, “but I was wondering if that might be you, Ella.” Her plump cheeks are rosy and her smile sincere as she steps closer for a handshake. “It’s wonderful to meet you in person.”

“My god, I owe you so much!” I grab her hand and shake it enthusiastically, and she chuckles and pats the back of my hand warmly. “Thank you so much for finding me and helping me with everything, this town is perfect.”

“My pleasure, dear, I love to help.”

We chat a little more as she finishes her purchase, but when I ask her to join us, her sharp gray eyes dart between Rhokar and I curiously, and she declines. I swear Rhokar blushes as he clears his throat and mutters at me not to bug the witch while she’s shopping, hurrying me along with his big palm hovering almost-but-not-quite touching against my lower back.

I look over my shoulder as we leave. “It was nice to finally meet you!”

I could swear there’s a devious, cheeky sort of energy to Ismelda as she smirks, eyes still darting between us, and she sends me a wink. “I’ll see you around, dearie.”

Colorful tapestries flutter in the breeze as we continue our stroll, hawkers enthusiastically advertising everything from pixie dust to authentic gnome-made gardening tools, jewelry and improbably shaped fashion items, cookware and kitchen tools of all sizes, and even one stall selling nothing but large, bright purple eggs.

We take our time chatting and walking, Rhokar showing unbelievable patience compared to usual as I fuss over every item in every store. He doesn’t complain as I touch everything and ask a million questions as I discover so many new things. We meander through the stalls, our conversation weaving seamlessly between discussions of the eclectic items on display, and snippets of our own stories and lives that we share.

The noticeable exclusion of the twins from our chatter as we share bits of our lives with each other weighs on my mind, but I find myself still hesitating to bring them up. It feels too early in our exploration of each other to suddenly dump that on him. I mean, technically this is our first date. Second? Possibly.

Either way, it’s an awkward thing to suddenly bring up in the middle of the day, it doesn’t feel like the right time. Soon, but not right now. It would be better if we got comfortable with one another first, or at least had a few more pleasant interactions that aren’t filled with bickering before I drop that bomb, and I decide to put a pin on having that conversation—but not for much longer. I know it has to be soon.

I let myself push that issue away as the day continues, and allow myself to freely enjoy my time without any ulterior motives or hang ups for now. Rhokar seems to become more comfortable, losing the stiffness between his shoulders and smiling more often. When I slip my fingers through his elbow, he shifts to accommodate me more easily. If I’m taking too long at any single stall, he presses his palm to my lower back without hesitation, steering my completely unresistant self away, and if he knows it’s because I melt into a puddle every time he touches me there and I forget to care about whatever trinket I was examining, he doesn’t mention it.

There’s a comfort in the shared exploration, in Rhokar’s unbothered calm and little smiles as he watches me get excited over what must seem so normal to him. I’m having such a good time I don’t even notice the sun dipping until the scent of exotic spices and the savory aroma of street food hitting my nose makes my stomach growl.

Rhokar seems to be particularly honed in to my grumbling stomach, because he doesn’t fail to notice it and drags me away from a clothing stall for giants that doesn’t have a single item to suit me, but which I couldn’t help but go through just to see what sort of stuff giants wore.

He buys us both food, and we find a quieter spot to sit away from the liveliness of the market, where other couples and families are relaxing or eating. The ancient trees provide a natural canopy against the warm, late afternoon sun, which filters down through the leaves over the bench we’ve snagged.

“You know,” I mutter as I sit beside him with a Styrofoam container full of fat noodles smothered in a thick, golden sauce of deliciousness. “I feel like I can…feel the trees, if that makes sense? Like when you’re sitting in front of someone and you can feel them behind you, but every time I check, there’s no-one there. It’s just the big tree behind us.” I look over at him as he slurps up a noodle and chews. “Am I crazy?”

He shrugs. “No. They’re more alive than most trees. This grove is older than some countries are.”

I blink at that, but decide not to ask. He’ll probably just say it’s magic and leave it at that, so I make a mental note to bring it up with Ismelda or Nib some other time.

Instead, I push my plastic fork through my noodles, feeling something shift inside me during this tranquil moment.

“Rhokar, can I ask you something?”

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