The Orc’s Stolen Seamstress (A Rove Woods Romance #1)

1. Chapter One

Chapter One

Nalina

T he autumn day was perfect, crisp and gorgeous, with a light breeze that wasn’t too cold. The sweet scent of late autumn fruit, apples and blackberries, wafted on the breeze and my stomach twisted with hunger. Sunshine cast dappled light through the orange and red canopy onto the deep green moss under my feet. The chatter of those around me was pleasant as they haggled for trades. Preparation for the incoming winter was well underway, and I was blessedly relieved by the bit of normalcy.

Or at least all would have been normal if that massive, brooding orc with the cut-glass moss-green eyes would just stop staring at me.

“Nalina! Are you even listening?”

The indignation in Waston’s tone had me jumping back to attention. She was a stout middle-aged woman with a glare almost as hot as a forge and a voice that tended to get loud and carry unless she was placated early.

“I’m sorry, so sorry.” I kept my voice low. The open-air trade market we were within was large and spacious, but on this side of the birch-tree pavilion, the merchant tables were quite close together.

I could already see my neighbors glancing at me from the corner of their eyes, though I couldn’t be sure if it was because of Waston’s racket or because the huge orc with his enormous muscles and chiseled abs was still watching me with the same intensity that a saber cat watched its prey.

I was going to be the main gossip for the next half-moon—I could already feel it. “What was it you said, Waston?”

“So, you weren’t listening then? Honestly, Nalina, is this any way to conduct business? If this wasn’t already free, I would demand a discount.” Her gray eyes narrowed, and her round jaw clenched tight.

Conducting business? More like dealing with a petulant child who was too delusional to see reason. The wool blouse Waston had handed me was about as old as the Rove Woods themselves. There were so many patches one couldn’t see what the original color was.

Patches that had all been added for free .

“If you would just fix this shirt up right the first time, I wouldn’t have to keep coming back to you moon after moon.” Waston threw down another shirt and two pairs of trousers. “I don’t even know why you are here when you are so far behind in my repairs. Don’t tell me you are thinking of taking a commission from the orcs and pushing our needs aside!”

I’d push her needs off into a muddy ditch if I could. I’d stitch her rags so close to the fire they caught and return a bag of cinders to her.

And then she’d tell all of her friends, paying customers I relied on, to never do business with me again.

I sucked in a few deep breaths of the cool air to clear the anger from my mind. A few orcs glanced in our direction, and I wanted to rage at them too. If they would just commission more from me, I wouldn’t have to deal with this vile woman and her flock of heartless hags anymore.

I wasn’t being fair and I knew that. It wasn’t their fault I was in this predicament, and they were free to choose anyone they wanted to fix up their clothes.

But I needed orc commissions above all other work. I needed food .

“It was your own grandmother who vowed to fix any article that she made. She herself guaranteed that no clothing of hers would ever lose its luster. Your mother did well by that tradition. But now look at you and at this .” She held up one of the most tattered and oldest shirts. “This is such shoddy work. I regret ever doing business with you to begin with!”

I wanted to tell her to fuck right off the nearest cliff, but the cold attention of everyone within earshot gave me pause. My late mother’s chiding blistered in my ears. Do right for the customer. Exhale your anger, and lock your words in your throat before you say anything you regret. “I’m so sorry about the issues with the last patch I mended. But I promise this time it will hold.”

“You’d better, or I’ll be sure to tell everyone how the quality of your work has dwindled this past year.”

I clenched my teeth as my hand lifted to my grumbling, empty stomach. “I’ll do my finest work for you, Waston.”

I looked around and was disheartened to find that any orcs who had been looking in my direction had moved on. Two were even at Seamstress Glori’s table.

My chance to trade for produce today had been thoroughly squashed. I’d have to go to Headman Gerald for meager handouts. Again.

Waston clicked her tongue. “Honestly, your mother would be absolutely appalled to see how you were maintaining her business. Putting new commission work from orcs before a loyal customer’s repair. She would be ashamed .”

The low blow instantly made my face go hot and my eyes blur. The beautiful forest turned into a swimming swirl of colors as I desperately tried to swallow down my tears.

Waston continued undaunted. “You are a disgrace to your own legac—”

“I want to trade.”

The deep voice rumbled all the way from the tips of my toes to the top of my head and made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

My eyes snapped to the owner of such a deep, growling voice and tipped up, up, up , to his face.

Fades help me. This was the orc who’d been watching me.

He wore no shirt, only a thin pair of leather slacks that had seen many mends over the years and his bare chest was riddled with scars and tight muscles.

Unlike the orc residents of Rove Wood Clan, whom we, of Oakwall Village, had been at peace with for centuries, these burly warrior newcomers didn’t bother hiding their teeth. Or their scars. Or their dark dispositions. When they had first arrived, my whole village wanted to throw them back out.

But then they hunted for us. A full elk to each family who was willing to welcome them. They gave so generously just for the opportunity to trade with the humans of Oakwall Village.

Elk meat I couldn’t eat and had been forced to trade away. I was now set with thread and fabric to last the whole winter.

But my food stores were still perilously empty.

“I was here first,” Waston snapped at the orc, and I held my breath, but all he did was raise a bushy black eyebrow. “I know you warrior lot come from outside these woods, but here we have manners .”

The orc snorted and a lopsided grin appeared on his face. One that made my heart patter a little too hard in my chest. “ Manners? Is that what you call this?”

Waston sputtered with indignation. Spittle flew out of her mouth and nearly landed on the orc’s arm. “Well, I never . I’ll be telling the headman about this insult right now! You’ll be removed from this trade faster than you can blink, you and the lot of you warriors.”

I turned to the orc, throat tight, as I tried to predict what his response might be.

But he wasn’t paying Waston the least bit of attention. He was looking at me .

His expression was intense . Far more so than it had been when he’d been watching me from across the pavilion. His skin was a deep moss green, which made his glassy eyes stand out against his face. His hair was cropped, and hints of gray were obvious, especially around his temple. His body was mottled with old, jagged scars that stood out as almost white along his arms and chest. He had a particularly gruesome one that carried from under his eye down to his chin. I could see the pockmarks lining it from where it had been stitched up.

These warrior orcs all looked like this. Beaten to the Fades and back. They’d come from the world outside of the Rove Woods, where they fought in a brutal, bloody war I’d been safe from my entire life.

The orc’s gaze held me, and I fought to find my voice. “So . . . er, would you like to commission—”

“ Excuse me!” Waston’s voice carried far as she slapped her hand down on the table. I stared at her in horror as she brushed the burly orc aside. “You cannot possibly mean to pick this . . . this brute over talking with me!”

My tongue tied itself in knots as I worked to keep the frustration from my tone. “I apologize. I thought you were done with your commissions, Waston. And weren’t you going to speak with Headman Gerald?”

I glanced in my leader’s direction and was relieved to see that Waston’s fuss had already alerted him, and he was headed over. His face was a mask of concern, and his brawny frame was tense. Behind him, I could see the regal orc Chief Sythcol also watching with a tense posture. He was new to the role and probably hesitant to get involved.

“I was here first, and I demand you see to my needs before his!” Waston’s chin was high and her nose higher. “You warriors don’t know the proper etiquette. So, let me inform you. When someone is already at a table to trade, you have to wait .”

“You talk too much, old woman ,” the male said with a voice as thick and dark as the swirling of a blizzard. It rumbled right through my gut and threatened to freeze me solid.

“O-old woman! ” Waston shrieked. “How dare you?”

“What is going on over here?”

I nearly collapsed with relief as Headman Gerald made it to my table. Usually, the laugh lines around his face were more pronounced, but Waston wiped the happiness right out of everyone. He’d been the headman for most of my life and he’d done a very fair job of it. Our village had only prospered in his time as leader, which is why he kept getting voted into the position year after year.

“Headman Gerald, this orc here is threatening me. Where is Chief Sythcol? I demand justice for this!”

“Waston.” Headman Gerald’s voice was low, and his brows were set tighter than I’d ever seen. “We talked about this before I allowed you to come today.”

So, he knew she would be like this?

Waston stammered. “I haven’t caused any issues. It is this orc who has insulted me! I demand that Chief Sythcol hear my complaint. Go get him right now.”

“Has this orc harmed you?” Headman Gerald looked weary and the dark bags under his eyes were even more pronounced.

“My heart has been greatly bruised by his insults.” She somehow managed to sound near tears.

“Insults such as.”

“He called me an old woman!”

Headman Gerald let out a long sigh. “Waston, that is what you are .”

I had to bite my cheek to keep from bursting into laughter. The orc warrior let out a snort and I jerked my gaze up to find that he was unabashedly smirking. Thankfully, Waston was too busy gaping at Headman Gerald to notice.

My chest tightened slightly as the orc’s smirk fell into an earnest smile. I supposed he wasn’t so bad looking. His jaw was rather chiseled, and his eyes were—

His gaze slid to mine, and I lost all my breath before looking away.

“H-how dare you!” Waston cried loud enough to turn many heads. “I cannot believe that you, the man who is meant to advocate for us of Oakwall Village, is siding with an orc brute who has insulted and intimidated me.”

“Waston, you have never been intimidated by anyone in your entire life,” Headman Gerald said. “You are much too strong for that.”

More like headstrong. Waston’s chest deflated slightly. “Well . . . that is true.”

“Perhaps we should leave it there for today, Waston. I know you had business with Nalina, but I think it best you do it at our village rather than this trade, which we all know is meant for the orcs.”

“I suppose my business is done anyway,” Waston said with a glance at me. “I’ll be at your home tomorrow, Nalina. Be ready to receive me.”

I barely withheld a groan and nodded.

“Now, where is the orc chief? I need to have words with him.” She walked away briskly before anyone could respond.

“All else is well here?” Headman Gerald asked, looking between the orc and me.

It was at that moment that I realized the huge, brooding male was back to staring at me with the intensity of the forge fire. I clasped my hands together as my mouth went dry.

“Fine,” the orc said, not taking his eyes from my face while I pointedly looked at Headman Gerald.

“Nalina?” the headman pressed, and I finally managed a nod.

“All right then. Call if you need anything.”

And with that, Headman Gerald retreated, and I was left with an orc staring down at me with such intensity I was certain I was about to be reduced to a puddle.

The male’s eyes flashed with something akin to amusement, and the right corner of his mouth quirked.

I used some of my leftover anger to find bravery. “Is . . . there something I can help you with, sir?”

“Why did you bend to that old woman’s will?”

I blinked, mind blank as it sputtered to respond.

“She was pissing all over you. Do you have no spine?”

Was being accosted by Waston not enough? “She’s a customer.”

“A customer who doesn’t pay? What kind of customer is that?” He scowled so hot I could almost feel the heat. How much of our conversation had he eavesdropped on?

“That’s . . . that’s just the way it’s done .”

“Says who? Don’t you control your own trades?”

“My great-grandmother built our business,” I informed him, desperately trying to keep the irritation from my voice.

“And where is she?” He snorted and crossed his arms. “With the Fades, I assume. You’re in the habit of taking orders from feeble old ladies who have as much power as a rotting log?”

My chest puffed up. “This is how I was taught and raised. How my village works. Traditions are important.”

“Traditions are only important if they put food in your mouth and, judging from the sound of your stomach, they haven’t been doing that for a while.”

My hands flew to my stomach as if covering it would prevent him from hearing it grumble. I couldn’t seem to find a reply to his words.

Because there wasn’t one.

He was right.

“I’m not sure who’s stupider,” he said far too loudly. “The scum who trade with you, knowing they take cruel advantage, or you for letting them. These traditions of yours make fools of everyone involved.”

Every person within earshot had their eyes on us. I’d become the spectacle I’d tried so hard to avoid.

Bright, hot anger made my cheeks burn and my eyes prickle. “Perhaps my traditions are no good, but neither is talking to you. It seems all my potential business has been frightened off anyway, so if you will excuse me.”

With that, I scooped up my satchel of tools and the pile of repairs I’d been given and turned on my heel to go back to Oakwall. Once again, leaving without a single carrot or berry to sustain me until the next orc trade fifteen long days from now.

I made it to the tree line before my tears gave way.