Page 11 of His Orc Lady

But Owen is focused on his dinner, his posture relaxed, and for the first time since we met, I have an opportunity to study him without him watching me back. He’s… Gods, he’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen, and I don’t know how I’ll keep myself from falling for him.

I grip the back of a kitchen chair, my knuckles turning pale, and when I catch Carrow’s eye, he seems concerned, his dark eyebrows knitted in a frown. I blow out a slow breath to calm down and force myself to release the chair.

“Won’t you sit?” Owen looks up at me, a cup of tea in one hand, a bread roll in the other. “I’ll only be a minute longer.”

His expression is so earnest, so open, I want to do exactly as he says, let myself fall, and damn the consequences.

But I can’t—it would hurt too much when he eventually leaves me, just as everyone else has done.

Instead of taking the chair opposite him, I call out to the youngsters still washing the dishes, “Priah, Borm, can you show the captain the guest quarters after he’s done with his dinner? I think the room next to Lady Willow’s should have been reserved for him.”

“Aye, Mara, no problem,” Priah chirps back. She jerks her chin at Owen and adds, “Just let us know when you’re done, sir.”

I bid Carrow goodnight, give the captain a small curtsy, and hurry out of the kitchen before he can find a reason to keep me there any longer.

I’m running from him again, and I bet he knows it, too—but perhaps my flight will work this time.

Maybe he’ll understand that I want nothing to do with him and leave me alone once and for all.

I tell myself it’s for the best, that this will protect us in the long run because we’ve been doomed from the start.

That doesn’t explain why my heart feels like it’s being torn in two, or why my cheeks are suddenly wet, but I don’t stop until I’m safe in my room, door bolted and all the lanterns extinguished so no one can witness my sorrow.

Chapter

Four

I wake early after a terrible night’s sleep. I tossed and turned, racked with guilt over leaving Owen so abruptly and tormented by the knowledge that he was somewhere in the Hill, in the guest quarters not far from my suite of rooms. If I ventured out into the hallway, I could be at his door in no time, and I could?—

I stop my thoughts before they can devolve into a hopeless fantasy. It would be counterproductive and completely useless—and I hate being useless. It’s an unpleasant reminder of a time in my life when I didn’t know what my role in the clan would be, and I don’t want to return to a state of such utter hopelessness.

Pushing away my covers, I roll out of bed despite the headache pounding in my temples. The cold water I splash on my face in my bathroom refreshes me, though I doubt I’ll look my best today. Raking a comb through my hair helps calm me a little, and I coil a tight bun at the nape of my neck, a severe style that might just save me from unraveling.

Then I pick one of my most demure dresses, a high-necked, deep blue gown that covers me from neck to toe. The captain saw me in a dressing gown last night, so I need to correct his impression of me—I amnotsome unkempt wretch but the steward of this Hill, and I shall present myself as such.

Thus armed, I grab my work satchel and my set of keys to the larders and decide to spend the morning there, rechecking our stores for the winter. It’s late in the season for a trading trip south, but if we’re low on meat or other supplies that could be gathered from the forest at this time of year, I might convince Gorvor to send out one last hunting party before all the mountain passes are closed and the snow grows too deep for even our best hunters to brave.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I find the great hall nearly empty at this early hour. Only families with small children and the guards who’ve just finished their night shift sit at the long wooden tables, and they’re all too tired to attempt conversation with me. The children run around the tables, already bouncing with energy while their parents stare blearily after them. Carrow is nowhere to be seen either, and it’s Earna who passes me a large jug of piping-hot tea to carry to my table and brings out apples, freshly baked, still-warm bread, and blueberry preserves.

I’m finishing up my breakfast—having chased it with three cups of strong tea instead of my usual two—when Ozork appears at one of the entrances to the great hall. Hidden behind his bulky frame is Willow, and they’re talking quietly, their heads bent toward each other.

I freeze with my cup mid-air, not wanting to intrude on their intimate moment.

Has he told her yet what she is to him? That she’s the one person he cannot live without? The only chance for his happiness and ever having a family?

Then I see his determined expression and the intense focus he has when looking at her. And I note the slightly shell-shocked, though pleased expression in Willow’s wide eyes—and I know hehas.

Of course he has. Ozork has wanted a mate for years—decades, even. And he’s not going to let her go now that he has found her. He’s brave, unlike me, and doesn’t seem to care that she’s going to leave come spring.

He might even follow her to the human lands and live with her there if she asks it of him.

He could very well leave—and never come back.

Just another person on the long list of those I’ve loved and lost.

I duck my head, not wanting to attract their attention. There’s no use thinking like that. Perhaps, by some miracle, Willow will decide to stay? So many humans have, Dawn and Poppy and Hazel, Ivy and Violet. They’ve found their happiness here, with us—but not one of them had such ties in the human world as Willow has.

Or Owen.

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