Chapter 11
Orlena was unraveling, and she didn’t know how to stop it.
She rose early every day before dawn, as usual. She kept her same routine. Neatly braided her dark hair, walked to the shop, and arrived before Yambul.
It felt forced now.
Things she’d done, day in and day out, now seemed as if she were following someone else’s schedule. Her fear was sharpened beyond belief.
Every creak in the floorboard of the shop had her flinching.
Every time Yambul disappeared into his office, her chest froze as fear took a hold of her.
She could do nothing but throw herself into her work.
She worked faster now. She ensured that every measurement was precise.
She had to keep busy in order to keep her from going crazy.
When she wasn’t crafting or cutting wood, she was out in the shop wiping down counters, reorganizing shelves, and double-checking the sales ledgers that she was already sure were correct.
Her thoughts never strayed far from the one act of rebellion she had committed.
The thievery of her contract.
It was still hidden where she had left it. Three days had passed since she’d taken it. Three days since Nargol had ridden away.
Three days of waiting for the hammer to fall.
Yambul had not said anything. Not yet. But every time he went into his office and shut the door, she couldn’t help but envision him rifling through his drawers and realizing something was missing.
She waited for the moment she’d hear him roar her name and stomp through the shop to find her.
More than once she’d almost brought the contract back.
Twice she’d made it so far as to lift the floorboard and take the folded parchment into her hands. Her heart beat so hard at the thought of him finding out that she was sure it was almost coming through her chest.
What would her punishment be?
Her hands trembled at the thought.
But she could not return it without knowing what it said. Not knowing if he had been speaking truths of her time left with him, or if he’d been lying this entire time.
It was late afternoon, and the weather had finally broken. The storms that had battered their village for days had retreated. It had left the air feeling heavy but clean. The sky was a pale gold as the suns began their descent.
Yambul was currently in his office while she manned the storefront. Customers had thinned out as the day drew to a close. Orlena found herself watching the door more than the shelves, or the lone customer who was browsing a shelf of bows.
Yambul’s footsteps rumbled on the floor. Her breathing quickened.
Was this the moment?
He arrived in the store and scanned the area until his gaze landed on her, his infamous scowl in place.
“What’s lit a fire under your ass?” he asked.
“Ex—excuse me?” she stammered. She stood to her full height. Her stomach grew queasy as she looked at him.
“These past few days, you’ve been working something fierce. What happen? Your girlfriend leave you?” He snorted.
She remained silent, not wanting to test him. His gaze lingered on her in a way that made her skin crawl.
“You keep working the way you are, maybe I’ll let you take a day off.”
He stalked over to the door. Relief filled her that he was leaving. The shop was always quieter and calmer when he was gone.
“Make sure you lock up,” he tossed over his shoulder. He didn’t wait for her to reply.
The door slammed behind him, and she finally breathed a sigh of relief. She waited a long moment before moving just in case he doubled back.
The last customer left the store not too long after Yambul. She closed down the shop as she always did. She bolted the front door and went to the shutters. The street had grown quieter than usual.
It was too silent.
There should be others from the neighboring storefronts shutting down and leaving. She leaned forward and stared through the window. There was no one out there. Maybe it was just her nerves. She lowered the shutters and walked through the shop one last time to ensure it was cleaned.
She gathered her satchel and left the store. She locked the door and froze. The hairs on the back of her neck rose. She turned slowly once she’d pulled the key out and tucked it into her bag. Down the street, half shadowed underneath the overhang of a fabric store, stood three orcs.
They were large, even by orc standards, each broad-shouldered with thick necks. Their tusks caught the fading light when they turned their heads. They weren’t doing anything. Just stood there.
Watching her.
A cold sense of dread filled her.
Orlena had never really been scared to walk home before. Not like this. The village had its dangers, but she knew which streets to avoid, who she could trust. Tonight, something twisted in her gut.
She almost had the sense that she should run and hide.
But she couldn’t go back in the shop and stay there all right. Yambul would notice if she had slept there. He’d complain that it was not an inn but a place of business.
So she inhaled and took her first step.
She tightened her fingers around the strap of her satchel.
She walked and kept a steady pace. She fiercely wished that she had a weapon.
Her job was full of bows and arrowheads sharp enough to pierce armor, but she carried none of them.
No dagger. No knife. She wasn’t as proficient with a blade as she was a bow but could improvise if the situation called for her to.
Now would be that time.
She’d learn really quick how to wield a blade.
Nargol always had some form of a weapon on her. Orlena thought of her orc. She had hidden blades all over her along with the dagger she kept on her waist or her bow on her back.
The female orc was always alert, relaxed, and had a deadly air to her.
Why would that be if she were a nomad?
A woman with no home.
Who was she really?
Orlena had watched how Nargol moved, how she always scanned the area, how she placed her feet as if she were trained to make no noise. She reminded Orlena of the guards and warriors who served their leader, Cardu.
Except those guards scowled and growled when humans passed.
Nargol smiled.
She had a beautiful smile. Orlena sighed. The memory of how relaxed Nargol looked when her lips tweaked up. Her tusks were bright white, as were her other teeth. Her lips were plump and so soft. Orlena blinked. That wasn’t what she should be thinking of at a time like this.
She glanced over her shoulder.
The orcs were walking now. Slowly. They remained far enough back that she could almost pretend it was a coincidence.
Almost.
Her heart hammered harder.
Her journey home was not long. It never was. Tonight, every step she took felt as if she were going nowhere. The shadows deepened as the light faded, doorways appeared even darker than normal, and the silence of the village had her skin crawling.
A small animal burst from an alley and darted across her path.
Orlena yelped.
She jumped back a few inches, her hand flying to her chest. Her breaths were coming rapid.
“Goddess above,” she murmured. Her laughter afterward sounded thin and false even to her own ears. “Get a hold of yourself.”
Her pulse refused to slow down. She continued on her same path she always took home. These were the same streets Nargol and taken beside her. Her presence had been a steady warmth at Orlena’s side. The memory only caused her fear to peak.
She picked up her pace.
Her breaths came faster and shallower. She risked another glance back.
They were still there.
The distance between them hadn’t shortened. It was quite obvious that these orcs were following her.
Her chest tightened painfully. She fought the urge to run. It would only mark her as prey. She had lived among orcs long enough to know that.
Ahead, laughter cut through the air. A group of humans emerged from a side street. Orlena recognized them from her neighborhood. Relief flooded her so quickly that her knees buckled.
“Jenny! Mya! Rose!” Orlena called out. She hurried to catch up to them.
They turned and offered warm, welcoming smiles.
“Orlena! Are you okay?” Rose asked as Orlena joined their small group.
“I’m fine. Just ready to get home. It’s been a long day.” Orlena chuckled nervously. She tagged along with them and felt much better that she wasn’t alone.
“You shouldn’t be by yourself,” Jenny gently scolded her.
She entwined her arm with Orlena’s. She lived in a little house on the same street as Orlena.
They’d shared plenty of meals together over the past few solars.
“There are plenty of us who work in the same area where you don’t have to walk alone. ”
“It’s just sometimes I work late. I wouldn’t want to hold anyone up from going home,” Orlena said. It was true. She carried a heavy workload that required her to stay late and arrive early so she could meet the demands of her boss. “It’s normally fine when I walk home—”
She stopped, a shudder rippling through her.
“You’re practically shaking. What’s wrong?” Jenny asked.
The group turned their focus to Orlena whose cheeks grew warm. She bit her lip and dropped her voice.
“There were…some orcs. I thought they were following me,” she admitted. She hated how her voice shook.
The women glanced behind them carefully before she could warn them not to.
“There’s no one back there,” Mya said. She offered a smile. “Maybe they were just going the same way.”
Orlena forced herself to look back. The street behind them was empty.
Had they gone away? Slipped into the shadows where none of them could see them?
Or had she just imagined the danger that hadn’t been there?
Had the orcs just been heading in the same direction before turning off to go to their destination?
Orlena continued on with the other women. They reached the human settlement. The familiar aromas and voices eased some of the tension she carried. She glanced back every few minutes to ensure the orcs hadn’t reappeared.
They hadn’t.
But she still had a feeling deep in her chest that they had been following her.
She bid her neighbors goodnight once they arrived at her home. She scurried up the path to her door. Once inside, she slammed it shut and barred it. She leaned back against it and sucked in a shaky breath.
Only then did she realize how hard her hands were shaking.
She pushed off the door and moved through her home cautiously. She lit every candle until each corner glowed warm and bright, erasing all of the shadows.
She still couldn’t relax.
“I’m going crazy,” she muttered. She brushed a few wayward strands of hair from her face. This was her home. It was safe here. No one was here but her.
At that moment, her stomach decided to make itself known.
It rumbled. It had been a while since she’d eaten.
She went and warmed up leftover stew in the cauldron.
The familiar motions grounded her somewhat.
She slid a few pieces of bread near the fire to warm it.
As the food heated, she clasped her hands together and closed her eyes.
The aroma of the food surrounded her.
She was safe.
But a certain green figure came to mind.
Was Nargol safe? Wherever she was, doing whatever she needed to do? She wanted her orc here with her. Orlena wasn’t sure when she’d grown so attached to Nargol, but all she knew right now was the only thing that would make her feel better, and safe—was Nargol’s arms wrapped around her.
“Goddess,” Orlena whispered. She’d never prayed so much until recently. At least not to the orc warrior goddess. Her fingers tightened. “Let her return safe. Bring Nargol back to me.”
Warmth filled her. A soothing, calming heat rippled through her that settled her nerves. Orlena opened her eyes and glanced around.
Had the goddess responded?
She wasn’t sure, but maybe the prayer had done something to her.
She gathered her food and moved over to the table. The candlelight flickered, and for the first time since she’d stolen the contract, she wondered if danger had somehow found her.