Chapter 27 Eng
ENG
Everything was falling apart. I shouldn’t have been so surprised, but here I was in McHenry’s tavern, looking at the rubble around me as if I had never heard the warning tremors of the earthquake.
This woman, this shrew, was not the sort of human female I’d come here to wed.
I knew that. I’d always known that. And yet there had been a rebellious, non-princely part of me that had secretly hoped our enjoyable interlude could lead to something more.
Idiot.
I should have learned by now. That time I’d tried to prove to my father that I could solve the flooding problems in the southeast quarter, only to have the levees washed away that first rainy season.
And then there was the idea for a merchants’ fair that had fizzled out due to lack of interest. And the community park that had nearly sparked a rebellion over zoning changes and eminent domain.
Change wasn’t going to happen. I had my role in life and it was fruitless to try to swim against that overwhelming tide.
Learn from my father. Be the prince I was born to be.
Don’t bother exerting myself in stupid projects or thoughts of marrying a sassy shrew of a female.
Things were the way they were because it was the best route, tried and true through generations.
It hurt.
I thought I’d reconciled myself to this long ago, but the human world had brought up ridiculous ideas of how to make things better back home.
And this dark-haired woman before me had stirred up youthful dreams I’d once had of being in love, of finding a partner in life, of breaking free of the chains of my birth and actually being happy.
I hadn’t been happy in so long. But the last three weeks… Images of the old people I’d befriended, of teaching them the game I’d played as a child, of them helping me decide the best place to take the shrew to dinner.
And the shrew…
I’d always been able to find respite in sex, but with her the physical act had gone beyond stress-relief.
With her in my arms I found the male behind the layers of duty and responsibility.
And she’d begun to coax that male away from the shadows outside of the furs as well.
For a brief time, I envisioned a life with her, and it had been like a breath of spring air after the musty confines of the life I’d been born to.
As hopeless as it all sounded, I didn’t want to give that up.
I didn’t want to give her up. I’d come here resigned to live out the script of my life, but now the very thought of that filled me with dread.
Suddenly I was standing at a crossroads.
Never see the shrew again, find a human female suitable to be a princess, and go back home to the life I’d left.
Or fight for my shrew. Win her over. Marry her, and create the future I truly wanted, regardless of what my parents or anyone else in the kingdom said.
My heart knew which choice it wanted. My hand-axe certainly knew which choice it wanted.
My head was scared, thinking about all the failures from my past and worried that I was about to choose the path that would undoubtably be littered with failure—the first possible one that the shrew would never want to see me again, no matter how I tried.
But the sex had been good for her as well, and I’d seen the look in her eyes when we’d talked over dinner and when we danced.
I couldn’t easily walk away from that, and I was hoping she felt the same.
Step one would be to find out what her name was, so I pushed my way through the crowd to where Bwat sat at the bar, looking at something on his phone.
I slid onto the bar stool beside the other orc. “I fucked up.”
Bwat stared at me as if a chair had come to life and spoken. “You’re talking to me?”
“Yes. I fucked up and I need to know how to fix it, and you know more about humans than the others.”
“Okaaaay.”
I wasn’t sure what the long drawn-out pronunciation of that word meant, but it didn’t matter.
“First, what is the name of Ozar’s mate’s friend.” It was more of a demand than a question, but I didn’t feel the need to win Bwat over with friendliness. I just needed him to give me information.
“Jordan’s friend?” Bwat turned an interesting shade that did not flatter the particular green of his skin tone.
I waved a hand, remembering that Ozar’s mate was named Jordan. I should know that given the number of times I heard him moaning her name as he masturbated in the bathroom when we were on the road.
“Yes. Jordan’s friend. The beautiful friend.”
The color on Bwat’s cheeks deepened giving his complexion a muddy tone. “Abby Anton.”
I frowned, because that name absolutely did not suit the shrew. Human names were weird. I’d probably just continue to call her shrew.
“This Abby Anton is going to be my bride, so I need to know how to woo her.”
“No!” Bwat nearly knocked his stool over as he jumped to his feet. His face turned an even more unflattering mottled shade of greenish-brown. “You can’t marry her! I’m…I… She would make a terrible princess.”
“I know,” I admitted. “But I don’t care. We are like fire in the furs together, and unlike many humans or orcs, I can actually hold a conversation with her without falling asleep.”
Bwat made a choking noise. His hands curled into fists. I eyed him with curiosity, wondering if he was actually going to hit me.
“You can’t. She’s…she’ll never leave the human world. Never. So you can’t marry her. You have duties as a prince back home, and you need a female who is willing to go back with you.”
It would be a stumbling block. My duties back home were mostly as a figurehead and as an heir, so it wasn’t like I needed to spend every day there, but I did want to return for at least part of the year and I would want my wife to accompany me.
And when my father died, my bride and I would need to return full-time to my kingdom.
Ah well. I was certain I could convince the shrew to change her mind. And if not, it wouldn’t be so bad here in the human world with her by my side.
“That’s not a problem.” I told Bwat.
He made another choking noise. “She’s…she’s…infertile.”
I sucked in a horrified breath. No children.
None at all. When I’d been looking for a suitable princess candidate, I’d intended to father children immediately—as many as possible.
With Willa, I found myself thinking it would be nice to wait a few years and have time together.
Just us before we introduced a bunch of orclets into our lives.
Infertility though…could I accept that? The continuance of our line in the kingdom would fall on my remaining sister’s shoulders, and she’d so far been unwilling to wed.
It would be one thing coming home with Willa instead of the bride I was sent to marry, but to also not be able to produce an heir would be more of a rebellion that I thought I could stomach.
“Human medicine is very advance, is it not?” I asked hopefully. “Are there ways of overcoming infertility?”
“No,” Bwat shot back. “Not this kind of infertility. She’ll never have children ever, so you’ll need to just find someone else to wed.”
I frowned, suddenly suspicious. “How do you know this? Humans generally do not volunteer medical problems to relative strangers.”
The other orc glanced over at a female with long hair a few shades more red than Ozar’s mate, and luscious curves. “Ummm, Jordan told Ozar and he told me. That’s how I knew.”
My eyes narrowed. I was going to call bovine excrement on that.
Ozar’s mate did not seem the sort of female to gossip about a friend, and Ozar absolutely was not the sort of orc to spread that information around.
Bwat squirmed, realizing that his story was not believable.
He straightened up, puffed his chest out, and took a step forward well into my personal space.
“You can’t have her. Find someone else.”
I smirked. “Or what?”
Next thing I knew I was sprawled out on the very dirty floor of the bar, staring at an uneaten part of a potato wedge that was partially under the stool I’d just been sitting on.
My face throbbed. And all around me humans and orcs were shouting and running around.
The humans seemed to be moving away, while the orcs seemed to be approaching.
My brain suddenly caught up with the situation.
The fucker hit me. Bwat hit me. He was trying to fight me over the right to woo the shrew and the idiot actually thought he could win this battle.
He wouldn’t—either the physical battle, or the one for my shrew’s heart.
I scrambled to my feet ready to fight but the curvy redhead had moved between me and Bwat.
“What are you doing? Save it for the ice and the other team. You’re going to get kicked out of here, and that’s bad PR,” she hissed at the other orc, hands on her hips.
Bwat visibly deflated. “Abby, I am sorry.”
Wait. What? This was Abby? Not my shrew?
Then I remembered that Ozar’s mate had more than one friend, as strange as that idea seemed.
I looked around the bar and found the shrew near a back table, drinking her beer and absolutely uninterested in the brief fight between Bwat and me.
Her indifference hurt. I wanted her to be in my face yelling at me the way the curvy female was doing to Bwat.
Or even fussing over me. Anything but ignoring me as if my getting hit in the face and being ready to pummel Bwat and get kicked out of the bar was nothing she was even mildly concerned about.
“You good?” Ozar asked as the actual Abby edged Bwat away from me.
I was far from good, but nodded, knowing that the orc wanted to know that I wasn’t going to turn Bwat into a smear of blood on this dirty barroom floor.
“By all the mountain gods, what was that about?” he asked me.
“No idea,” I lied. Glancing over at the shrew, I saw she’d turned her back to me. Something in my chest twisted, tight and painful. “What is the name of Jordan’s friend? The one with black curls, dark brown eyes, and skin like gold?”
Ozar blinked. “You mean Willa? Please tell me you’re not going to fight her next. Although I’m pretty sure she could hold her own, even against an orc.”
As if I’d fight a female. Although if I did fight her, Willa probably would hold her own.
I remembered those powerful thighs wrapped around my hips, her strong hands grabbing onto my ass, the way the muscles in her abdomen tightened as she’d held herself up from the furs while I drove deep inside her.
Actually, she’d easily beat me in a fight.
All she’d need to do is look at me with that hungry fire in her eyes and I’d be like dough in her hands.
Well, dough except my hand-axe, which seemed perpetually hard as steel when I thought of her.
Willa. It was a good name. Delicate, but with admirable strength.
It reminded me of the orc word willowyn, a small, adorable furry animal back home that was legendary for its fierceness.
If you came across a willowyn den with young, or one raiding your pantry, you just backed away and hoped it was gone the next time you were there.
“What is her second name?” If I was going to do this, I needed to be thorough about it.
Ozar grimaced. “Filipkowski. It is hard to pronounce.”
I did something I rarely did when others could see and pulled out my phone, typing in the last name as Ozar spelled it for me.
Then I had the language app pronounce the name.
It was slightly different than Ozar had said it, and I made a mental note to practice tonight in my hovel so I had the sounds correct.
Willa Filipkowski. A fierce animal for a common name, and a nearly unpronounceable family name. How very orc. It confirmed my conviction that my shrew was the only female I would ever want to be my bride. And it made me feel like a complete idiot for not learning her name before now.
“Do not make her angry,” Ozar warned. “Abby is already on the edge of skinning Bwat alive. Jordan will not tolerate another orc annoying one of her friends. And if Jordan is upset, I am upset.”
I rolled my eyes, unconcerned about whether Ozar was upset or not.
Willa Filipkowski. I knew her name. And I knew where she lived, thankfully. Now it was time to go back to my hovel, search this kitchen-room for the slip of paper that held my shrew’s phone number, and to plan.
I was going to win Willa back. And then I was going to make her my bride.