Page 10 of Orc's Claim
I bite my lip so I don’t laugh. “You’re probably right, but he’s earned whatever name you call him. The orcs haven’t.”
“Are you so sure? They’reorcs, Lily. They don’t respect anything except weapons and bloodshed,” she says without even a hint of remorse for her harsh words as she sets out one of my finer pieces, a leather sling pouch with extra compartments for knives and small farming tools.
“How do you know what they respect? I mean, does anyone evertalkto them?”
Paloma’s hand hovers over my cutting shears. “Crap. Vints.”
My head snaps up in time to see three vints slither in our direction, with their spiked tails brushing the dirt behind them. Their blue skin reminds me of the ocean back home, and that’s the only positive thing I can say about them.
I hiss, realizing I could be judging them as unfairly as Paloma and the others judge the orcs. But, damn, I don’t want to deal with them. They always cause trouble. New Earth shares a border with the vints, and there have been a lot of skirmishes recently.
Why can’t everyone just calm down so I can slip out of here and search for my orc?
“Damn. Owen’s disappeared again. The useless ass,” Paloma whispers as a vint rummages through the harnesses on my tablewhile the other two flank him, their backs turned to us as they watch the crowd.
The guards. Where are they? I follow their line of sight to the nearby orcs.
My orc has joined the other two, but he’s far from the calm male I’ve had in my head these past few days. With the ridges on his brow scrunched together and his right hand resting on a sheathed knife, he’s snarling and being held back by the orc with the braids.
The vint intentionally bumps my table, dumping my works-in-progress into my lap and immediately gaining my attention. “An accident,” the vints says with a snarl.
“If you tell me what you’re looking for, I can find it for you,” I say as calmly as I can.
He reaches out and runs a long, dirty finger through my hair. I freeze, unable to do anything, even though I’m holding an edge beveler. Not a knife, but it could be used as a weapon.IfI could move.
“We’re not for sale,” Paloma says, knocking his hand away from me.
When the vint reaches for Paloma, she raises my shears. “Don’t,” she warns.
One simple word, but the vint halts. Shewillstab him if he tries to touch her.
My eyes dart at my orc.
He’s…gone.
My heart sinks, but before I can search the crowd for him, a high-pitched whistle pierces the noise of the crowd. The three-inch spikes lining the vints’ tails rise simultaneously. Like a pack of dogs, the two vints race trail behind the leaderafterhe swipes everything off my table with his tail.
“Bastard,” I mumble, finally able to move. I bend over and begin picking up the mess.
“At least they’re gone.” Paloma brushes the dirt off the completed orders as she sets them on my table while I get on my hands and knees and start sifting through the dirt for my needles. If I’d been thinking straight when the vints approached, I would have closed my sewing box. But I was too distracted, thinking of my orc.
“How many needles did you have in there?” Paloma asks as she joins me on the ground.
“Two dozen.”
“Why so many?”
“Are you trying to distract me from what just happened or do you really want to know?”
She shrugs. “A bit of both.”
“It’s my entire supply from Earth. I don’t exactly trust certain people in the colony. It’s safer to take them with me when we’re working the market.”
“I can’t imagine any of the women stealing your tools. Certainly not if they ever want you to repair their shoes. They don’t have your skills with leather.”
“Not them. Owen.”
A shadow looms over us as large leather boots twist and drive several of my needles into the dirt. I follow the thick calves and thicker thighs to the scowling face of an orc. Not my orc. The one with the braids.
