Page 10 of His Orc Lady

At the kitchen door, he darts around me and holds it open for me. The gesture is innocent enough, but it’s kind and it allows his scent to billow around me once more, muddling my senses.

Gods, but he smells good.

Perhaps Taris has a pungent salve I could smear under my nose to prevent smelling him so strongly. It would look strange to have goop on my face, but if it helped…

I step quickly past Owen and into the kitchen. Carrow is there, elbow-deep in flour as he kneads a batch of dough for tomorrow’s bread, while four younger orcs on kitchen duty are busy with the dishes, exchanging quips and banter at the large troughs at the wall. Hot water from the thermal spring that flows through the baths has been diverted into the kitchen as well, making an otherwise onerous task of washing up after the clan at least slightly more bearable.

As a girl, I’d had my fair share of kitchen duty, but I’d always preferred it to the mandatory weapons training sessions with Orsha and the other combat teachers. Everyone does their share, that’s the motto of our clan, and this space has always been a comfort to me, a haven filled with chatter, good food, and warmth.

“Hey, Mara.” Carrow lifts his chin in greeting. “What brings you here so late?”

Owen steps into the kitchen behind me, and everyone turns to stare at him. One of the youngsters drops a ladle into the trough, the clatter jarring in the silence.

“This is Captain Hawke,” I announce brightly to cover the awkwardness. “He’s come to the Hill with the Duke of Ultrup’s ambassador and missed dinner. I’ll fix him a quick meal. You don’t have to do a thing.”

The young orcs exchange glances, but they’re eager to resume their evening activities so they turn their backs on us. We’re older than them and likely too boring to hold their interest.

But Carrow keeps his gaze on us, following my movements around the kitchen, even as he kneads the bread.

Owen undoes his travel cloak and hangs it on a peg by the door. With purposeful, measured steps, he walks to the trough at the wall and washes his hands with the bar of simple kitchen soap, then dries them on a cloth and turns back to me. “What can I do to help?”

I flush, not willing to admit that I’ve been watching him instead of preparing his food. With a trembling hand, I point at a bowl of hard-boiled eggs that Earna always keeps on the counter for a handy snack. “Er, you can peel some of those. I’ll see if there’s any boar roast left.”

Carrow spears me with a curious look, no doubt wondering why I’m being so awkward. Clearly, he doesn’t remember the captain from his last visit, which is just as well—I don’t need him butting in or, gods forbid, telling Owen I’ve been distracted and moping all these weeks.

I don’t want to give my friend more ammunition for teasing, so I scurry into the larder to find the leftovers from tonight’s dinner. I scavenge some cold roast and carrots, a pair of bread rolls, and some oat and hazelnut biscuits Earna must have kept back from the ever-hungry horde of children who always come begging for sweets after a meal.

Then I take several deep breaths through my nose to calm my nerves, filling my lungs with the scents of flour, honey, and spices—until I notice the blasted anise that reminds me so much of Owen’s scent.

Cursing softly under my breath, I return to the kitchen—and find Owen chatting easily with Carrow, who seems to be pouring tea for us all.

“Mara, why didn’t you tell me Owen visited the Hill that time you dropped the food platter?”

My traitorous friend grins widely, showing all his teeth. I grip the bread roll too tightly, squishing it between my fingers, butit’s either that or lobbing it at Carrow—and I’ve never had good aim, so I might hit Owen instead.

Fantastic.The two of them are on a first-name basis after I’ve been absent for all of two minutes. There isnoway this could end badly.

I shoot Carrow a glare and set the food in front of the captain with more force than strictly necessary. “Here you go. If there’s anything you don’t like, there’s also?—”

“This is great,” he says, touching my arm.

I stare down at his hand on the sleeve of my dressing gown, feeling its warmth through the soft fabric. He jerks his hand back after a moment and clears his throat, then goes back to peeling an egg.

He’s likely remembering how I reacted earlier, when he steadied me in the hallway. Which is to say I avoided his touch like it burned me.

I let out a slow exhale to calm my nerves, then chance a look at Carrow.

A mistake, to be sure.

My friend is watching us with avid interest, and from the way his grin grows slowly, I know he at least suspects what’s going on. I shake my head at him subtly, and he gives me a solemn nod as if promising he’ll keep my secret, and for now, that’ll have to do.

When we were younger, back at the old palace, I may have had a tiny crush on him—before he informed me that he liked boys better than girls. Whenever we’d had kitchen duty together or ended up as sparring partners, he’d been a great help, and I’d dreamt of how nice it would be ifheturned out to be my fated mate when we grew up. He would have been kind to me, and he, too, preferred staying indoors, in the kitchens, rarely venturing out into danger.

We would have made a good couple, but neither of us ever felt the dangerous pull I feel for Captain Hawke.

Carrow knocks back the rest of his tea, gives the cup to the young orcs to wash, and declares, “The bread won’t make itself. It was lovely to meet you, Owen. Make sure to drop by often while you’re here. We have all the best treats.”

I close my eyes briefly, hoping Owen won’t notice how strangely Carrow is behaving—or the meaningful glances he’s sending me over his shoulder.

---