Page 23 of How To Woo A Warrior Orc

“The magic. Your magic,” he clarifies. “I grew up with the fae. You utter charms and incantations as part of your recipes, but then you lit the candles here with no spell. The witch, Violet, who came by today, she didn’t have to do anything to use hers.”

“Ah.” I take another bite of soup, then another, considering how to answer. “Magic is… everywhere. It’s in everything.”

He raises his eyebrows. “I don’t understand.”

My mouth twists to the side. “I’m trying—it’s hard to explain something that’s like breathing.” I squint at a creamy lantern overhead. “You know you need to breathe, you understand the basic mechanics of it, right? But if you tried to explain exactly what your body does with the air…” I shrug.

He nods, looking intrigued.

Ga’Rek is an excellent listener. I really like that about him.

“Magic is like that,” I continue slowly, trying to think back to the basics I picked up along with walking as a very, very small child. “It’s in us, in witches. Sometimes, it’s best channeled with a spell, like when I’m baking. Sometimes, with small tasks like lighting the candles, it’s about will and intention. Every witch is inclined towards a specific discipline, usually something that crops up from family to family. Like Wren, she’s called towards elements of the earth, gems and gold and silver. My magic is focused on feelings, which I channel into the food I make.”

“The fae… they never used spells. Not that I saw.”

“That’s because they are more magic than most. Mostly magic, even.”

He takes another bite of soup, swallowing slowly as he thinks it over.

Very serious, very adorable.

His mouth twists to the side as he studies my face, considering what I’ve tried to tell him.

I would like to kiss it.

Blushing, I quickly avert my gaze and take another bite of soup, then sample the platter of still steaming roast vegetables Malia brought out. The platter is a cracked deep blue glaze, and I’m reminded yet again of the starry blue dress I passed up at the tailor’s cart.

What must it have been like to grow up without seeing the night sky change with the seasons?

“How did you end up with the Unseelie fae?” I blurt. It’s something I’ve wondered for a long time about Ga’Rek. Orcs are fierce, yes, but they keep to themselves for the most part, in tight-knit communities mostly deep in the mountains, away from places like Wild Oak Woods and the larger cities along the coastline.

“Caelan took me from my parents when I was seven or eight.”

“He didwhat?” I screech, my spoon falling with a clatter into my empty soup bowl.

Flustered, my mouth opens and closes, but Ga’Rek just barks out a loud laugh.

“He saved me, my sweetling,” Ga’Rek says, his hand closing over mine, warm and comforting. “My parents were orcs, yes, and I’d like to think they loved me, but they…” He shakes his head, sorrow creeping into his beautiful eyes. “They were not good parents. They did not like being parents. They left me on my own for weeks at a time while they went hunting together. They drank ether—that’s a grain alcohol that will burn the lining off your insides—until I was terrified they would never wake up.”

“Oh goddess, Ga’Rek, I’m so sorry.”

“Sweetling, it is long, long in the past. And it is not your hurt to apologize for.”

My eyes well with tears all the same at the thought of a baby version of the lovely male across from me, fending for himself for weeks at a time.

“There was a bird I cared for—it was hurt, and I nursed it back to health. I was certain my parents would kill and eat it if they found it, so I stowed it deep in the forest away from where my parents liked to hunt, and I cared for it for many weeks while they were gone.”

I twine my fingers through his, horrified for poor small Ga’Rek. Of course he took care of a defenseless animal.

“The bird was one of the many fae spies back then,” he tells me, a humorless smile on his face as his thumb rubs lightly over the back of my hand. “One day, I went to take my bird a handful of berries and bugs I’d found, and it was gone. In its place was Caelan, who told me he was going to take care of me the way I deserved, the way I did for the bird.”

My chest positively aches.

“I went back, once. I don’t know how much time had passed, because time here and time in the Underhill passes differently. My parents never even bothered to look for me.” His eyes grow distant, looking slightly above and beyond my head. “I know, because I sent that bird I’d taken care of to look.”

My hand goes to my heart. “Ga’Rek,” I murmur.

“Caelan tells everyone he stole me,” the orc says in a low voice. “And maybe he did. But what he really did, what he would hardly ever admit, is that he saved me, the same way I saved that bird.”

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