Sorry!
Colette
Stones, but the woman talks incessantly—even in a letter! But… She liked the kiss? She believes I’m good-looking? I clear my throat and tuck the note into my cloak pocket, quietly entering Rychell and Halvard’s house. I push all thoughts of Colette from my mind.
All is quiet except for the sound of one large orc snoring upstairs. The couch is comfortable, but sleep refuses to come. I toss and turn until the sun creeps through the window hangings and paints the room in shades of bright pink. Even the sunrise is trying to get me to think of Colette.
Chapter 4
Archer
Ifinish building the fire in Halvard and Rychell’s living room and wince at the noise of banging pots and pans. The whole family is in the kitchen. Nate starts singing a song at the top of his lungs, and I breathe out, trying to stop my shoulders from creeping up toward my ears. It was so quiet an hour ago when they were sleeping. So wondrously quiet.
I brush my hands off on the linen square folded beside the stack of firewood, then join the family. Halvard is finishing up a pancake over the kitchen fire. The skillet he’s holding is massive, but it looks small in his big, green hand.
They greet me and we tuck in. The sun streams through the back window and drapes a veil of goldover Rychell’s hand as she sets it atop Halvard’s thick knuckles. They trade a grin. The love in their eyes is magnetic. I pull my sleeves down to my wrists and flex my fingers. I want to stare at this orc and human pair sometimes, to study their silent exchanges, but not only is goggling them pathetic, but it’s also creepy, so I force my gaze back to my plate. The pancakes’ edges are crisp and their insides are soft. Absolutely delicious.
“These are perfect, Halvard,” I say, finishing my last bite. It’s smothered in raspberry sauce and is a divine experience.
Nate is staring at me again, his fork hovering over his own plate. “I didn’t believe you. About the food.”
I laugh, and Rychell makes a noise of exasperation toward her son.
“It’s fine, Rychell,” I say. “Nate, you didn’t believe I eat pancakes?”
“That’s right. I mean, steak makes sense. Is it the raspberry sauce?” He lifts a forkful and lets it dribble back onto his plate. “It does look like blood if you squint your eyes right.”
Then we’re all laughing, and Nate joins in beforeattacking his pancakes with a growl.
“Eat like a person, Nate, please.” Rychell’s grin takes the edge off her stern request.
Halvard kisses the top of Nate’s head. “I’ll take you camping before it gets too cold. We can growl and feast in the forest like proper orcs.”
Nate leaps up, nearly knocking Halvard’s chin with his skull. “Please, yes! Ma, can we?”
“Yes, yes. Now, go fetch the herald’s broadsheet. It’s reading time,” Rychell says.
I help Rychell and Halvard clean the plates. Nate barrels back into the room with the broadsheet held like a trophy above his head.
“Master Archer is famous!” Nate waves the sheet from side to side.
What in the world could be on the broadsheet that has anything to do with me?
Rychell nods and tousles Nate’s hair. “We know that. He’s a well-respected author, remember?”
I roll my eyes at that, imagining the stack of unpaid bills at home, but I am curious what Nate means. The pixie youngling holds out the broadsheet to Halvard. As the orc reads, he purses his lips around his tusks. Rychell peers over his arm to check out the broadsheet. She pulls in a breath like a hiss.
Fantastic. This is surely going to be fabulous news.
“All right,” I say. “You’ve developed the tension beautifully. It’s time for the payoff.”
I hold out a hand, but Halvard doesn’t give up the long piece of heavily inked parchment. I lock him down with a look, and finally, he gives it to me.
The front page is mostly taken up with a three-line high headline and a detailed sketch.
The Dark Prince of Prose bewitched by the Queen of Quills!
Breakfast curdles in my stomach and I drop into Halvard’s chair. “No, no, nooooo.”
