Chapter 5
Rychell
It’s not bad to admire the view even if I’m not shopping, right?
Certainly not. Halvard tells another of his orcish stories, and the broad expanse of his shoulders is like a wall behind me.
I could lean back and rest like he is an extension of the driver’s bench.
He smells fantastic, too. I’m not going to deny that.
His scent is whisky and laundry soap, and I can hardly keep from gulping it down.
It’s a very good thing that I saw the posting about the merchant who wants a practical partner in life. I need to get my life settled in that way because obviously I’ve left myself get too lonely. So lonely that I’m about to jump on this orc with no regard for my future.
I have Nate to care for, and he is my heart. I don’t have room for anyone else. Nate deserves peace after all he went through. My life must be well-planned and devoid of drama.
But I am a woman, and I can enjoy the view as long as I keep my heart in check.
“How about we stop here?” I suggest. A creek winds through the roots of several silver birches and wide-trunked oaks. Tamar tosses her head as if ready for a nice drink.
“I’ll grab us a snack.”
Halvard leaps from the wagon with another great boom like he did at Kaya’s Two Cats Bakery. Birds scatter from the trees and chirp at the interruption in their day. I can only grin because Halvard raises one of his massive green hands to them and apologizes.
I free Tamar from the harness and lead her to the creek. She bumps me with her shoulder, and I smooth my palm along her warm side while she drinks.
“You’re messier than Nate, my friend.”
Tamar slings her head and splashes me.
“Ah! Stop that!” I laugh, shake myself off a bit, then join Halvard on the blanket he spread on the forest floor.
“I think Nate gets his mischief streak from that mare of yours.”
“I think you’re right.”
“So I brought a round of that new cheese Grumlin has been bragging about,” Halvard says.
Grumlin is the owner of the tavern in Leafshire Cove.
Using a small knife from his belt, Halvard slices a piece for me. The pale cheese is both tart and buttery, and it melts in my mouth.
“It’s delicious,” I say around the cheese.
Halvard produces a gourd wrapped in leather. “Even better with some Nocturne cider.” He pops the cork and pours some cider into a tiny crockery cup for me.
“You really know how to travel, Halvard.”
“I’ve longed to do some traveling lately,” he says. “That trip with Cyrus reminded me how much I love seeing new places as well as the journey itself. It’s nice being out here, away from one’s usual chores.”
He looks up at the forest canopy. Black birds dart from branch to branch.
Sunlight streams through the limbs to illuminate the orc’s proud brow and square jawline.
It’s funny. He looks both monster and noble gentleman at the same time—a creature of the deep woods, but also a fellow with a quick mind and a confidence I admire.
Shifting his legs and leaning against a boulder, he adjusts his laced-up shirt.
A hint of coppery hair, the color of his beard shows on his large pectoral muscles, and I swallow, trying not to stare.
I don’t want to get carried away. It’s one thing to look and enjoy; it’s quite another to ogle like a fool.
With his battle-scarred hands, he breaks a small round of rosemary bread into two and we enjoy it in companionable silence.
It smells divine, and the texture has just the right amount of chew.
The creek sparkles in the patches of sun that dance through the forest. Tamar munches on the last of the year’s clover, her tail swishing happily.
“If I may ask,” Halvard says quietly, his big eyes trained on me, “how did you end up adopting Nate?”
“Do orcs not participate in adoptions?” I ask, hoping I’m not being offensive.
“Oh, we do. It’s highly respected to bring in younglings who need a family. And I’ve already told you how orcs like their families big.”
“Well, I wasn’t interested in having a family,” I say.
His eyebrow lifts. “Why not?”
I pick at the hem of my skirts and try not to think too much about Osric and all of that. Suddenly, Halvard’s hand is on mine. I pull away and worry for a moment that I offended him, but he smiles kindly, one side of his lips lifting.
“You don’t have to talk about your reasons. Sorry to pry.”
“You aren’t. It’s fine. My parents were deeply in love when I was little, but they grew to hate one another. They fought bitterly. It was awful. So much yelling and breaking things. I couldn’t wait to come of age and leave.”
Halvard’s lips thin, and his nostrils flare. “Rychell, I’m so sorry you went through that.”
I continue on. “I will make certain Nate never experiences that.”
“I understand,” he says.
I cough to clear my throat and blink away unshed tears. It still hurts. Even after all these years. “Love isn’t for me. Nate deserves a steady, peaceful home, as all younglings do.”
“So you’ve never dated?” Halvard asks.
“I dated two human men, a male wolf shifter, and two female fairies. But I never fell for any of them. I just don’t think love like that is meant for me.
And when I was apprenticing at a spice merchant’s shop in Kingstown, I heard about Nate.
The orphanage was right beside the workshop, and I had befriended another woman there.
I had supper with her now and again, and she told me about a pregnant pixie who was too young to care for a baby.
At the time, I wasn’t permitted to speak with Anya, the pixie mother.
She had Nate, and the orphanage offered to try to find him a permanent home.
I tested for Master status and moved to Leafshire Cove, but I couldn’t get little Nate out of my mind, even though I’d never even seen him.
When he showed up at our orphanage in town, I knew it was fate. I adopted him that very same day.”
“That’s a lovely story, Rychell.”
The way he pronounces my name is beautiful. “So once I had Nate, I knew I wouldn’t risk love again. I was responsible for his heart as well as mine. It wasn’t worth the potential tragedy. We are happy with just us at our home.”
“I’m sure you are.” He pours the last of the cider into my cup. “Would you like me to ready Tamar while you finish up?”
“Okay.”
Smiling, I watch Halvard chat quietly with Tamar. He handles the harness with care. I finish my cider and wash the cups in the creek. Once I have our picnic packed up into Halvard’s bag, we climb onto the wagon and journey onward.
I feel lighter. Halvard is such a great listener, and he didn’t express any judgment over my actions. I haven’t told anyone that story in ages, and perhaps it was healthy to release that pain again. I wonder if I’ll ever really get over it.
My gaze slides to Halvard over and over as we leave the forest and head into the ravine that marks halfway between Honey Sands and Leafshire Cove. He is whistling now, some quiet, jaunty tune, while he knits. I bite my lip to keep from giggling at the sight.
“The bench is shaking, Rychell. Try to keep your amusement under control,” he says, a teasing tone threading through his deep voice.
“I’m sorry. It’s just…” I laugh openly.
He raises an eyebrow and purses his lips. “That I’m a large, scary monster who likes sweet little grandmotherly crafts?”
Then I can’t stop; laughter takes me fully. I can’t remember the last time I was this lighthearted. I need to go on more trips.
“Laini taught me.”
The town weaver is a gentle soul with a spine of steel. “I’ve always liked her.”
“You two should have coffee at her place sometime. She wouldn’t mind Nate running about. I know her dragonfox and his mate would love his energy.”
“I’ll do that. Now, what are you making?”