“How do you like Baltimore so far?” I was running out of small-talk topics. My next attempt might have to involve the weather.
He shrugged. “It is a city. Like any other human city.”
Okay. Weather it was. “We’ve been having a rather warm fall so far. The Farmer’s Almanac says not to expect much in the way of snow this year. How are winters in your homeland?”
He grunted. It totally pissed me off. He’d replied with a couple of short sentences, so I knew he at least understood enough English to carry on the bare minimum of a polite conversation. I considered switching to the orc on the other side of me, but he seemed even less inclined to exchange social niceties. And I didn’t want to switch. I wouldn’t give the rebel orc the satisfaction of thinking he’d won in our battle of non-words.
“Do you know how to skate?” I asked him, my tone downright combative.
“No.”
That was it. Just “no.” And my not-so-subtle attempt to get a rise out of the guy fell completely flat. He clearly didn’t care, but just in case, I tried again.
“Do you know how to play hockey?”
“No.”
I waited a bit, but no further elaboration or explanation came. Normally people abhorred a silence and would attempt to fill it, but rebel-orc didn’t seem interested in speaking more than a monosyllable, and buff, man-bun orc could be mute for all I could tell.
“Then why the hell are you on a hockey team?” I put some angry demand into that question, making it my personal mission to get this guy to say more than no.
He grunted. In retaliation I snatched his pint glass and drank the small amount of beer left in it.
“Seriously. You don’t know how to skate or play hockey, and from what I saw tonight you don’t seem to be interested in learning to do either. Why are you on the team? And more to the point, why hasn’t the owner fired your ass yet?”
He turned to face me and I’ll admit I shivered a little at the glint in his dark eyes.
“I do not care what the owner does. I will not play this stupid game. I will not be a fool for the humans’ entertainment.”
His accent was pronounced, hinting at a guttural first-language with lots of consonants and fiery emotion. I was a sucker for accents, and honestly I admired his stance, especially after watching the game tonight.
“Okay. Then get another job,” I advised.
He grunted again. “There is no need. I will be gone soon.”
I flagged down our server and motioned for her to bring another round, because this was a story I wanted to hear. “Didn’t you all just get here? Are we humans too much for you that you’re tucking tail and running home so soon?”
Instead of a grunt, this time the orc snarled. “Eng, son of Mrong, grandson of Ewghalan, great-grandson of Mokhang, prince of the Kingdom of Waragur does not run home like a coward. I am not afraid of humans. And I do not have a tail.”
Well then. A prince. Prince Eng. La dee da.
“It’s good to meet you, Eng. I’m Willa Filipkowski.
He grunted. Great we were back to grunting once more.
“But you said you were going home soon. Why are you here if you hate it so much? Why not go home now?”
His scowl grew more menacing. It was so damned hot.
“The only reason I am here in this world is to find a human female suitable to be my bride.”
My stupid heart skipped a beat, and suddenly I was back in my childhood with dreams of a prince charming sweeping me off my feet and making me his adored princess. I’d thought those dreams had vanished with puberty and the harsh reality of the dating world, but I guess dreams never truly went away.
“She must be fertile, meek, and obedient,” Eng continued. “She will have as many of my offspring as her womb can bear, appear at public events, and otherwise stay in her quarters.”
Fuck that. My dreams vanished at his words.
“And what are you bringing to the table in this marriage?” I drawled.
