Page 29 of His Orc Lady

“Is your horse’s name really Acorn?” I ask, grinning.

“My sister named him.” His lips curl up in a smile, and those dimples of his appear under his short beard. “I tried to call him other names, but she pouted every time, so the name finally stuck.”

If I wasn’t certain before he is a good man, this would have finally convinced me.

“How old is she?”

Owen pauses, his gaze on the ceiling. “Well, she’s sixteen now but she was eight when I got him.”

“Quite a bit younger than you, then.”

I don’t know why I’m still keeping him here, but now that he’s started talking about his family, I want to know more.

He cocks his head to the side. “Are you trying to find out my age, Mara?”

A flush works up my neck from the way he says my name. I don’t drop my gaze, though. “Possibly.”

“I turned thirty-one this summer,” he tells me softly. “So Alice was just a baby when I left for the Army. I don’t know heras well as I’d like, but I make an effort to stop by whenever I’m in town.”

So he has a family, people who are counting on him to return. He might even help support them with his captain’s wages.

“I’m an only child,” I blurt, suddenly wanting nothing more than to talk, talk, and talk some more. “And my name day is in the spring. I’ll be twenty-seven soon.”

He’s watching me with a bright expression I can’t name—but I want to stay right here, basking in his attention.

“Captain!”Samm, the soldier who came to fetch Owen earlier, is standing at the entrance to the great hall again, yelling for everyone to hear.”They’re ready to leave.”

Owen jerks to attention, then glances down at me. “I have to go.”

“Of course,” I say quickly. “Have a safe trip.”

His eyebrows twitch, the tiniest frown marring his expression, but his soldier is waving at him now. Owen gives me one last nod, brushes my arm in a featherlight caress, and leaves, marching out of the hall with long strides.

I realize I’m holding my breath, watching him leave. My hands shake lightly as I clasp them around my mug of tea and take a sip.

He’ll be all right.

I tell myself Owen is a trained soldier, a human well used to being outside. He must be a good horseman as well and will be riding his own horse, meaning he’s less likely to get thrown off than if he picked some young stallion from the clan’s stables. Besides, his men will be out there with him, as will Ozork, who surely won’t let anything to happen to anyone.

Still, I can’t stop thinking about Owen in the wild, frozen forest of Bellhaven, and all the dangers that could be preying on him. So I ask Jasmine to remain in the great hall, should anyone need help with day-to-day tasks, and head back to my room tograb a warm wool shawl. Then I make my way to the outer edge of the Hill, to the hall that houses our goats, chickens, and sheep. Their numbers are small because of how little space we have in the rooms facing the outside world—we keep larger flocks in the villages scattered throughout the kingdom.

I talk with the keepers there, discussing potential issues we could face over the winter, including the quantities of animal feed, our persistent mice problem, and the fact that some of the goats have figured out how to escape their pen and have been found wandering the corridors, leaving pungent piles of droppings everywhere.

But the real reason I’m here is the fact that the Hill’s stables are just down the hallway, housing a number of our clan’s horses, as well as our guests’ animals. Not many orcs like to ride, but we keep several beautiful workhorses that travel to Ultrup and back every summer with our caravans, as well as some faster animals for trips around the kingdom and urgent messenger rides.

I wander over to one of the windows and open the latch, letting a gust of frigid air into the room. The sky is overcast, a dull, steely gray. The light stings my eyes, so I have to squint at the clouds. If I knew more about the weather, I might be able to tell if snow is on the way. As it is, I inhale deeply, drawing the scent of pine trees and horses into my lungs.

It’s a beautiful view, the snow-covered forest quiet and peaceful. But it’s also vast, too open and unknown. The distant horizon isn’t even the end of our kingdom. I shiver, and it’s not all from the cold air swirling around me.

With trembling fingers, I shut the window again and turn away from it, breathing hard. Owen is out there somewhere, and I can’t reach him. Once he leaves, we’ll be separated by so muchspace, leagues of land and forest and mountains.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I force myself to push those thoughts away and rejoin the stable hands mucking out the still-empty stalls. I know I’m stretching out the limit of my time here when our conversation turns to hoof ointments—a topic I know nothing about. I might have to leave for the great hall and find Owen later to make sure he has returned safely instead of intercepting him at the stables.

Then a commotion at the door draws everyone’s attention. It’s the human soldiers returning, bringing in their animals who are snorting and sniffing at the hay bales stacked at the entrance.

“Hey, now.”

One of my clansmen jumps forward to take the reins of the first horse, and from there, they proceed in a more orderly fashion, the horses realizing that there’s hay in their stalls, too.

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