She grinned at him, and it made his heart squeeze. “Don’t worry. You won’t get in trouble for lingering about. Like I said, we’re friendly with orcs.”
A tension in his chest eased. How is it that this little human he’d only just met could read his expressions so easily?
“I’ll draw up some sketches of the things I want made as well. It’s all fairly basic. I’m certain you can accomplish it.”
He nodded slowly, especially because she sounded sochipper. So easygoing. As if trading with an orc was commonplace. He supposed in these woods it was. He wondered, after he and the warriors left the Rove Woods, how long he would look back on these few moments with awe.
Probably forever.
“Are you all right?”
He snapped his gaze to the woman and found her brows pinched together in mild concern. Concern forhim. His stomach flipped over, and pleasure zinged through his veins.
Fuck, he was lost. One kind look from her was all it took for him to lose his head.
“You’re a little pale. You aren’t getting sick, are you? I hope you don’t become unwell before the trade.”
He could be on his deathbed, and he’d still find a way to drag himself to the trade. He held up his hands and adamantly shook his head.
“Good. Well... then...” She took a deep breath and then held out her hand to him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He looked down at her hand in surprise for long enough that she laughed and grabbed him of her own accord.
Now he wasreallystunned. He could do nothing but freeze in place as she gave his clawed, calloused, and scarred hand a gentle squeeze. She let him go far too soon and his hand tingled at the loss.
With that, she turned away from him and was... well notgone,but going. It felt like the sun was setting on him again and it was barely past midday.
Looking beyond her, he was suddenly struck by the sight of a long line of oaks so tightly compacted they created an intricately woven barrier. It was at least five times his height and so large that he could not see the end of either side.
He was no stranger to barriers around human settlements. The Waking Order liked to build the monstrous structures of brick and mortar around their larger towns. They often had walkways and turrets on which soldiers could shoot their arrows, allowing them to easily cut down any who approached.
But . . . a wall made entirely oftrees?
It must have been made with magic. Orc magic. By the conjurers of the Rove Wood Clan. Males who were distinct among his kind. Their regal and poised demeanor contrasted his gruff, muscular exterior in every way.
Thatwas the kind of orc this woman was accustomed to. And yet she still had not flinched away from him.
Fades blast him back to the depths.Howwas he going to convince his brother to let him attend the trade with Oakwall? Karthoc had ordered him to stay as far away from Oakwall Village as possible. To not evenbreatheits name.
Trinia paused at the wooden plank gates of the village and turned back. Her rich brown eyes scanned for him, beautiful dark hair caught in a breeze. Her cheeks were flushed deep red, and her lips matched.
She met his eyes, and he could not look away. His fingers twitched with the want to touch her. To trace his hand over the curve of her hip, the roundness of her stomach, her full breasts...
A smile touched her lips, and she gave a final wave.
And then she was gone.
He turned on his heel and journeyed back through the woods under a canopy of gold and red leaves that glowed in the afternoon sunlight. The crisp scent in the air was so perfect italmost stung his nose. The whistling of the wind kept him cool as he walked.
This place was so pure and whole. He’d never seen anything like it in all his days. He wondered how he would convince himself to leave when Karthoc finally gave the order to move out and return to Baelrok Forge. He was already dreading the half-moon of travel through dangerous war-torn lands only to return to a fortress that was overcrowded and on the verge of crumbling.
His hand clenched hard around the baked treats, mind working as he returned to the warrior camp on the western side of Rove Wood Clan. The agony of his throat was all but forgotten as he made a plan.
A stupid, foolhardy plan.
And he’d carry it out regardless.
His absence had not been noticed but his return certainly was.
