Page 13 of His Orc Lady

“Ruben!” the other man exclaims, half turning in his seat to glare at his companion. “Will you stop?”

Jasmine takes a deep breath, her fair face turning pink. I’ve known her long enough to know that she’ll either explode and start yelling at the rude soldier, or burst into angry tears, which will hurt her even more. Darrin is clenching his fists, too, which is sure to be a problem if any more unpleasantness comes from the human’s mouth.

Stepping up to Jasmine, I give her the smallest nudge with my hand and take over the conversation. “There is very little chance that any of you will be a good match for the orcs of this clan, so you needn’t worry. We only wanted to let you know how things are done here so you’re not surprised by our customs.” I motion at the two young warriors beside me. “We’ve agreed that Darrin and Lorm will escort you around the Hill so you can familiarize yourselves with its layout, and then they’ll take you to the baths so you can all refresh yourselves.”

The soldier who had been eating so heartily stops and sniffs himself, then grimaces. “That’s a fine idea, my lady. We could all use a wash.”

“I don’t think—” Ruben starts again, his nose upturned.

But one of the other soldiers talks over him. “You should see the place, it’s amazing. They have as much hot water as you can wish for, and it’s all underground.”

He must be one of the soldiers who’d accompanied Willow last night, and I sigh with relief as the other men readily agree to go with our soldiers if it means getting to soak in a hot pool. After days on the road, freezing in terrible weather, I would be begging for it, too. They stand, chattering loudly, and drag their rude companion along despite his protests. The hungry one snags another scone before leaving, and then they’re gone, the silence after their departure ringing in my ears.

“That went…as well as could be expected.” Jasmine turns to me, arms crossed over her chest. “I wanted to kick the rude one in the balls. Thank you for stopping me.”

I grin at her viciousness. “I think some of your mates’ combativeness is rubbing off on you.”

Morg and Torren had gotten into a fight the night they met Jasmine, both of them convinced the other was trying to steal his mate.

“Don’t tell them,” she murmurs, though her lips twitch up in the corners. “Morg’s been teaching me to fight, but he says I lack killer instinct. He’d be so smug if he learned I was finally tempted to do violence.”

“For good reason, too.” I stare in the direction the men have gone, something painful squeezing in my stomach. “I’d forgotten that humans have such backward views about relationships like yours.”

Jasmine is quiet for a long moment, so I turn back to her, wondering what it is I said. She’s studying me in that quiet way of hers, as if she’s trying to puzzle me out, looking for deeper meaning in my words.

“Not all of them are like that,” she says finally. “I know that—that we’ve often painted the human men as wholly bad, the others and I. But they’re not all awful.”

I frown at her. “Your groom left you at the altar. Surely?—”

She flicks her hand up, stopping me. “Yes, but he neverlovedme—he was in love with someone else. He might have told me about his sweetheart a bit earlier, so I didn’t get hurt, but in the end, he did the right thing. If I was in his woman’s shoes, I would be very happy he chose me.” She lowers her voice and asks, “Have you smelled any of them yet?”

My heart stutters at her question. It hadn’t even occurred to me to sniff these other men, not when their captain has already claimed my inner peace. But Jasmine doesn’t know that—Owen visited the Hill before she ever arrived here, and clearly, she hasn’t heard any gossip about my embarrassing first encounter.

“I-I have,” I tell her. “None of them are a match.”

It’s not a lie. I stood close enough to the group of men that there’s no way I could have missed it if one of their scents was as significant for me as Owen’s was. And yet, I feel guilty for omitting the full truth. Jasmine would be so happy for me, I know it. She came to the Hill with the express purpose of finding a husband, and she never once thought of leaving her mates after she met them. But telling her about Owen would mean I’m acknowledging it—acknowledginghim.

And I’m not ready for that yet.

So I force a smile and ask Jasmine to make sure the human soldiers will have something to do in the afternoon, a tour of our training rings, perhaps, or some live music in the evening.

The best thing to do would be to speak with their captain and cooperate with him to provide work and entertainment while they’re guests at the Hill. Willow won’t need a full guard trailing her everywhere, which I’m certain the king will make clear to them at their meeting.

But that would meantalkingto him.

I turn back to ask Jasmine if she could also meet with the captain, but she’s already marching away, no doubt to get on with the task that’s been set to her. Her diligence and willingness to help have been key to her earning not just my trust but the king’s as well, but right now, I wish she wasn’t as effective.

I’ll have to find the captain and speak with him to make sure his soldiers aren’t left idle in the Hill. The truth is, it wouldn’t be right to dump this task on Jasmine. I’m the steward, and that title, important and respected, does come with certain duties—and I would never shirk those. I especially don’t trust the rude one, Ruben, or anyone who would follow his example. There is no space for bigotry here, and if he continues with his unpleasantness, he’ll soon learn that orcs won’t stand for it.

Still fuming from the strange encounter with the soldiers, I set out toward the king’s chambers, turning the corners of the corridors without thinking, the path so familiar I follow it with ease. Willow and Ozork might have concluded their meeting with Gorvor in the time I was hiding in the cellars, but they might still be close by—and they’ll likely know where Owen has gone.

If not, I could delay my search for him for a day, perhaps, give myself a little more time to think of?—

“Oof!”

I slam into someone coming from the other side of the corridor, right around a bend. Strong hands reach for my arms, and he—for it is most definitely a man—steadies me easily. I suck in a surprised inhale and recognize him before I even lift my gaze to his face.

Captain Owen Hawke stares down at me, his blue eyes wide in surprise. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

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