Page 40 of Orc's Pretend Mate

“A saravam,” he says, nodding toward the door. “Food, drink, community, or it was before…” he motions around us instead of finishing the sentence. “We’ll start here.”

The smell of stale drink and sweat hits me as we step inside. The room is dimly lit, the air thick with smoke from the fire and the low hum of conversation. It’s crowded, but not in a lively way. The weight of the atmosphere makes it clear that this is no place for celebration.

Vapas moves with purpose, guiding me to a corner table where we can sit with our backs to the wall. He motions for me to slide into the bench first. He takes the outside seat and then leans in close.

“Do not speak unless I say otherwise,” he murmurs. “Let me handle this.”

I nod, clasping my hands tightly in my lap to keep them from trembling.

A server approaches, an older Urr’ki female with a missing tusk and a wary expression. She doesn’t speak, just raises an eyebrow.

“Two kaphi,” Vapas says.

The server frowns and grunts then moves off.

Vapas’s eyes scan the room, lingering on each group of patrons in turn. There are Urr’ki here of all shapes and sizes, some scarred, others cloaked. A hulking lone male sits in the opposite corner with his hood pulled tight. There is what looks like a crutch resting against the wall beside him.

When the drinks arrive, Vapas slides one in front of me. He doesn’t drink his though, instead focusing on the server.

“I hear this is a good place to find... news,” he says, his tone casual.

The server’s eyes narrow slightly.

“Depends on the news,” she replies.

Vapas leans back in his chair, lifting his drink and taking a slow sip.

“The kind that doesn’t come from the Maulavi.”

The room feels even quieter now, as if everyone is suddenly listening. The server’s expression doesn’t change, but her grip on the tray tightens.

“You’ll want to be careful who you say things like that to,” she says in a low voice. “Not everyone is what they seem.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Vapas says, meeting her gaze without flinching.

The server studies him for a long moment before giving the barest of nods.

“Enjoy your drink,” she says, then turns and walks away.

I let out a breath in a sharp exhale.

“Was that wise?” I whisper.

Vapas doesn’t answer immediately, instead continuing to scan the room.

“We’ll find out,” he says at last.

A figure approaches our table. It’s a different female Urr’ki with sharp features and a cloak that seems to swallow the light around it. She sets a hand on the edge of our table, her fingers tipped with blunt claws.

“You’re looking for something,” she says, her voice low and gravelly.

Vapas doesn’t react outwardly, but I can feel the tension radiating from him.

“Perhaps,” he says.

Her eyes flick to me, narrowing slightly before returning to Vapas.

“The Fallen Beetle isn’t a place for idle curiosity.”

---