Page 20 of His Orc Lady

I follow the line of her finger to a basket of bread. Flour is strewn all around it, indicating that Carrow might have dropped it in a hurry.

“I told the soldier to hold on a moment, but Carrow sniffed the air”—she mimes the gesture with her nose in the air, her nostrils flaring—”and jumped right at the poor man.”

I laugh, imagining my friend tripping over the basket, his long limbs flying everywhere. “What did Ian do?”

“Oh, poor lad must have thought Carrow was attacking him.” Earna giggles as she ties off another sachet with a neat bow. “Jumped back in fright. I thought Carrow might burst into tears, he was so sorry for scaring his mate. But we explained it all to Ian, and they left totalksoon after.”

I don’t miss the way Earna waggles her eyebrows at this. If she’s right, my friend dragged his newfound mate right to his bed and is busy convincing him how perfect they are for each other.

Apparently, Carrow doesn’t mind the fact that Ian will be leaving soon—or maybe he doesn’t know that Owen intends to send at least half his soldiers home in a matter of days. A surge of indignation rises in me at the thought.

Hecannotseparate Carrow from his mate.

I peer through the kitchen doorway, searching the people still lingering at the breakfast tables. “Has Captain Hawke heard about this yet?”

Earna gives me a strange look. “Is that the tall, handsome one, dearie? I think he left with some of his men before it happened. He wasn’t here for the commotion, that much I know.”

“Hmm.” I snag a bread roll from the counter with one hand and a pear with the other. “I’ll have to talk to him about it.”

The head cook pats my hand. “You do that. Clear things up at last.”

I squint at her, wondering at her strange words, but she’s back at work already, shaking dried mushrooms into a large bowl for the soup.

I march right out the door, armed with a newfound sense of anger—not at the captain, exactly, but at this entire situation we’re in. He’s likely the only man I will ever want in life, and he’s leaving in a matter ofmonths. I’ve accepted this and decided not to pursue this thing between us, but Carrow shouldn’t be made to suffer, too. He deserves the world, and I intend to let Captain Hawke know what I think of his plan of sending his men away.

But I have to find him first, which is proving more difficult than I thought.

At first, I ask around for the group of human soldiers who left the great hall with him, but that proves to be a futile pursuit. I find the soldiers at the front gate, discussing scouting strategies with Neekar and Uram, but their captain is nowhere to be seen. The soldiers inform me that he’d accompanied them there to hand them over to Uram, who will be adding them to the watch rotation.

Neekar tugs on my elbow gently and leads me to the side. “Are you all right?”

I stare up at him, wondering what he’s on about.

He nudges my right hand. “It’s just… You’re usually carrying ledgers, not pears. And your hair is, ah, a bit wild. It just made me wonder.”

Damn it, I’d forgotten all about that pear. I’d meant to eat it, as I did the bread roll, but I must have forgotten. That I didn’t brush and braid my still-damp hair is more concerning. Neekar is right—I haven’t been this unkempt in public in ages, but I missed the fact completely.

I rummage in my pocket for some hairpins and braid my hair quickly, a messy job to be sure but better than nothing.

“I’m fine,” I snap at Neekar, then regret my tone immediately when he pulls back, his surprise palpable.

He puts himself between the soldiers and me and leans close, his broad shoulders obscuring their view of us. “Is it them? Are they bothering you? This Captain Hawke you mentioned, is he the problem?”

He looks about ready to find the man and shake some answers out of him, so I grasp his hand quickly and give him a light squeeze. “No, nothing like that. He’s— I just need to talk to him, is all.”

His dark eyebrows climb up. “And the pear?”

I force myself to smile and offer it to him. “You can have it. Sorry if it’s a little warm.”

We both know I’m dodging his questions, and I’m immensely grateful when Neekar decides to let the issue rest.

He takes the fruit from me and gives me another serious look. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

His words settle some of my nervous energy. “Thank you. Do you know which way the captain went?”

“Toward the forges, maybe?” Neekar shrugs. “It’s been almost an hour, though, so he could be anywhere.”

Neekar’s words turn out to be too accurate for my liking. I walk to the forge, where Morg informs me that the captain did stop by, mostly to see how the space is furnished, and asked some questions about the weapons being forged.

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