He shrugged. “The greatest of achievements do not occur without risk, without failure. If our heart demands something so different than what we have been told our fate wants, which is correct?”
I was so confused. “But you said you spent your life doing what the males in your family always did. You accepted your fate.”
“I had a good woman by my side. I found joy in my wife, in my children, in my friendships.” He shrugged again. “It has been a good life and for the most part I have no regrets. But every now and then I wonder what my life would have been had I mustered the courage to do what my heart wanted.”
I had a vision of my future—of the meek, submissive wife I’d been sent to find. Of decades waiting in the wings and doing nothing beyond breeding and appearing at ceremonial functions. It did not seem anywhere near as satisfying as what this man had experienced in his own life.
Then I felt a spike of fear at the thought of risking everything and failing…again.
“My situation is different,” I argued, hating the defensiveness in my voice.
“I’m sure it is. And I’m sure you will be very happy governing.”
There wasn’t the slightest hint of irony in the man’s reply, but I still felt as if I were being personally attacked.
“The trick is to know if you are just too lazy to fight for those things your heart wants, or if they are truly beyond your ability to attain,” he added.
Ouch.Ouch. I didn’t reply. I just sat there, staring at the port, wondering what exactly my heartdidwant? It had been a very long time since I’d asked that question.
“What do you think when you see these ships unloading their wares?” the man asked.
The brightly colored containers, the crane, the oversized ships…it all reminded me of an orclet’s toys. Blocks and intricately crafted, whimsical items with gears and pulleys. It made me think of my childhood, and of what my own children might see and do when they managed to escape the nannies and tutors for a few hours.
But there was something else I thought of.
“I admire how so many ships full of products do not cause chaos in the port. The humans all know exactly where each container came from, what it holds, where it is going. And when the trucks arrive to take the product, I see how quickly the containers are located and loaded. Everything is organized. Wehave often been limited not just by the size of our port, but by our ability to keep track of it all in a way that allows appropriate taxes and fees to be collected and illegal products to be found and seized.”
“For all of our computers and detailed work processes, we concern ourselves with that too,” the man commented. “This is one of the largest, most busy commercial ports in the nation. If you are here to learn, you could do worse than to talk with the employees about what works and what doesn’t work. The executives and government will give you a bunch of bull, but the people working at the port each day won’t blow any smoke up your ass.”
I nodded, grateful that no one was going to attempt to blow smoke up my ass, even though I could subdue most of these humans with my arms tied behind my back.
“Thank you. I’m not really here to learn about human infrastructure, though. I’m here to find a human female to wed,” I told him.
“Wed?” He laughed, the sound surprisingly loud. “Good for you! I should introduce you to my granddaughter. She’s a real spitfire. I think you’d get along.”
I immediately thought of the shrew, then shook my head to rid my brain of all the remembrances of last night.
“I don’t want a spitfire. I want a quiet, obedient, submissive female who is fertile. She will bear my children, and occupy herself in gentle female pursuits and charity.”
He snorted. “Sounds boring as hell. No one wants a woman like that, my friend. Trust me, you want a partner who isn’t afraid to tell you you’re full of shit when you are. You want someone who can fight by your side, who is strong enough to hold your family together when there’s barely enough money to keep the lights on and the heat running. You want someone whowill lend you her strength when you need it, who will inspire you to amazing acts. You do not want thismieczak.”
Again, I thought of the shrew, of the expression on her face when I made her come, of the glitter in her dark eyes when she looked at me, at the way she ran her nails down my back.
“A spitfire is not a suitable princess,” I informed him.
“Who says?” He laughed again. “I know whoI’drather spend my life with. Actually I have spent my life with her, and wouldn’t want it any other way.” The man held out his hand. “I am Piotr Filipkowski.”
I shook his hand. “I’m Eng, son of the King Mrong of Clan Waragur. I am a prince, the heir to the largest of the orc clans. Waragur is a kingdom, and I will be the King one day.”
“It is nice to meet you, Enzo.” The man stood. “I’m here most afternoons if you ever want to talk. My friends and I also like to visit The Old Cellar pub around nine each morning, if you find yourself in the neighborhood. I’ll even pay for your first drink.”
“Thank you. I hope to see you again soon,” I said. And as I watched the man walk away, I realized that I meant it.
I thoughtabout what the man said as I walked back through the city. Then I put all those thoughts aside when I stopped into a corner sandwich shop for lunch and checked the Tinder app on my phone. Swipe left. Left. Left.Left. By the mountain gods, these human females were rather terrifying, and not in a good way. Just as I was about to delete my profile and remove the app from my phone, I saw a female who had swiped right on me.
Elsa Canton. She was a princess of a place called Canton-onia, and from her message she seemed to be facing the same family pressure to wed a suitable individual as me. The picturewas…okay. The princess looked very much like the females in the magazines I’d found at the arena, only with considerably more clothing on. She didn’t have raven black curls. She didn’t have warm, golden skin and dark brown eyes. She didn’t have muscles that would rival that of a female orc—although it was difficult to determine that as she was wearing a shirt and pants. She wasn’t tall, bold, and sharp-witted.
She was perfect. Why did that make me feel as if I was being buried alive in thick mud?
