Page 38 of The Orc's Thief
A raindrop detaches from a branch somewhere above me and falls onto my cheek, startling me. It’s just a drip from this afternoon’s drizzle, but if he’s right, if more rain is on the way,I’ll be wet through before morning. And not just me—Clover will be soaked, too. At this elevation, there’s no telling if it’ll be warm enough during the day for us to dry out. If we get chilled through, it’ll be bad for both of us.
I scrunch my eyes shut for a moment, hating that I’ve put myself in this situation. I didn’t even find anything useful about the orc when I broke into his room—only that he has a large group of family and friends who like to supply him with endless letters, that is. Was it worth it for the gold alone to now have this warrior standing in front of me, demanding that I make an impossible choice?
“Fine,” I force out through gritted teeth. “But you’ll have to help me pack up. I can’t see anything.”
I swear he blows out a sigh of relief, and it annoys me even more that I can’t see his expression while he can clearly see mine. He doesn’t object to my condition, though. He plucks the blanket from the tree and hands it to me to hold while he goes around, picking up my belongings and stuffing them into the blanket to form a makeshift parcel. I’m left standing with the entire thing in my arms, still blinded by the darkness. He steps over to Clover, who doesn’t protest as he unties her. Then he takes the blanket from me and hands me my mare’s reins.
“Here, you lead her. If you hold on to my arm, I’ll guide you.”
I hesitate, then reach out and flinch at the first contact. His scent washes over me as I step closer, blending with the smells from the forest perfectly. I place my hand on his arm. His warmth seeps through his jacket. His muscles twitch at my touch, and I understand. It feels strangely intimate to be touching him when we haven’t even exchanged names. I pull back slightly and grab onto his sleeve instead, curling my fingers in the fabric.
He releases a slow breath, then moves forward, and I walk with him, placing my feet carefully.
“Duck your head, there’s a branch to your left,” comes the first quiet warning.
He leads me with surprising ease, guiding me around roots and low branches without letting me stumble into anything. Clover trails close behind, her hooves cracking small branches underfoot. I can only hope those wolves are still busy with their dinner and not out hunting for their next course, because between my horse and me, we’re announcing ourselves to the entire forest.
Our new companion is almost eerily silent by comparison, as if his feet aren’t even touching the ground. If it weren’t for his soft words and his sleeve in my grip, I’d barely know he was there.
We come up on the forest road several minutes later, and I breathe a sigh of relief. At least now I know where I am.
The gravel crunches under Clover’s hooves, and she lets out a huff of breath, as if to say she’s had it with me and all the moving.
“We’ll be there soon,” I whisper to her. Then I face my companion’s dark form. “Right? You said the cliff’s not far from here.”
“Just a little way ahead,” he confirms. “Then she can rest. I have some oats to share if you need them.”
I bristle at this. “I have enough feed for her, thank you.”
Does he think I didn’t consider my horse’s well-being when I set out on this trip? I don’t appreciate his insinuation at all.
But he lifts his other hand—I can just make out its faint outline—in a gesture of surrender. “I was just trying to be kind.”
At that, I stop. “Right. But why?”
It’s the question that’s been bothering me ever since he offered me the healing salve that worked wonders on my blistered skin. More than that: he helped me on the roof, pullingme up with ease. And now he’s protecting me from wolves and offering shelter to both me and my horse?
It’s suspicious, to say the least. Men who offer help always want something in return, I’ve learned that much.
“Can we discuss this later?”
He takes a step forward, as if to get us moving again, but I stay put, and since I’m not budging, Clover isn’t either. He might be strong enough to manhandle me, but Clover’s weight gives me leverage.
“No,” I reply. “You’re asking me to trust that you’re not leading me into peril, so I need more than that from you. Why are you helping me even though I robbed you and punched you in the face?”
He halts. “Don’t forget that you bashed me in the head with a wooden board, too. And left me bleeding on the floor.”
I wince. “Sorry about that. But what was I supposed to do? Youchasedme. I thought you wanted to murder me for stealing from you.”
“Ah, if I wanted to murder you, I’d have cut your rope from the chimney while you were hanging there, no?” He sniffs, then sighs. “There’s no way I’m getting you to move on without answers, is there?”
I shake my head wordlessly, knowing his eyesight is good enough to catch the movement.
“Right.” He takes a step closer, inhales deeply, lets out a sound that could almost pass for a groan of pleasure, and retreats again.
“What are you doing?” I demand.
He trailed me all the way from Ultrup, surprised me in the middle of the night, and for what? To sniff at me?
