“Getting picky, huh?” Caivid asked with a grin.
“You ain’t got room to be picky either,” Hendr muttered. “Your mug’s as ugly as Brovdir’s. You couldn’t pull an elk in heat.”
That was a low blow. Ogvick could at least pull a desperate buck if he wore the right pelt.
“Why the fuck you acting like you got an angry weasel up your ass, Hendr?” Caivid growled.
Angry? More like a horny and jealous weasel.
“Just trying to be fucking rational,” Hendr snapped. “These women have seen nothin’ but rosy-assed Rove Wood conjurers. Look yourself straight and tell me you think they’d chooseyou.”
At least Caivid looked like he could protect a woman. Most of the conjurers were so scrawny a stiff breeze could blow them into next week.
“Why wouldn’t one pick me?” Ogvick narrowed his eyes. “One chose Brovdir!”
“She wants totradewith him. Doesn’t mean she wants to fuck him.”
Brovdir felt his chest tighten at the truth of that. What she wanted was his blacksmithing skills. She likely did not want his company.
“Doesn’t mean shedoesn’teither. What if what she wants to trade is for pleasure?” Caivid asked.
His mouth went dry at the thought.
“She won’t be finding it in Brovdir,” Hendr muttered.
“How would you know?” Caivid asked with a sly grin. “You lay with him before?”
Brovdir snorted with laughter as Hendr sputtered with indignation.
Before the male could think of something logical to say, Caivid butt in. “Brovdir’s been with more women than the both of us combined. If anyone’s gonna pleasure a human, it’s him.”
His good humor cooled quickly. Because although he’d technically been with many women, he’d never actuallylainwith any of them.
He was just as inexperienced as the rest of them.
“All that and nothing to show for it,” Hendr said darkly, shooting Brovdir a hard look. “Should have a dozen sons being raised at Baelrok by now, but you haven’t evenone.”
Brovdir let out a low growl, and the male looked away. It was no question that the first priority for most of these warriors was to produce sons. Their kind were being steadily eradicated by the Waking Order.
Despite this, Brovdir could not bring himself to do it.
He was always with Karthoc. On the move. Seeing battle almost daily. The few sons that the Warlord’s elite had produced were fiercely trained in combat and would one day know just as much hardship and war as Brovdir did himself.
How could he in good conscience bring a child into such chaos?
“We all know how difficult it is to get a woman to lie with us let alone carry a pregnancy to term,” Caivid said. “You really going to blame Brovdir fortheirdeception?”
“All’s I’m saying is that if it was me, if it wasmyson at stake, I’d never let the woman want fornothing. She’d be so satisfied and hale she’d never want to leave my side, let alone condemn my son.”
Brovdir wasn’t going to argue with that. But a woman willing to open herself up to an orc and accept his care was as rare as blooming roses in a dark cave.
But perhaps... his brave little woman who survived a wild cat and chased down a warrior orc was the kind of beauty who thrived in adversity.
“That’s enough!” Karthoc’s order punctuated over the talk. “We’re almost there. Fall in line! Brovdir, get back up here now!”
Brovdir’s chest tightened with anticipation as he followed his warlord’s order and went to stand behind him on the left.
“Ergoth did something.”
