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“Role?” She shrugs. “I cooked, apparently. Because the others are awful at it.”
Just as I suspected. “You enjoy cooking. And were good at it. Of course, you’re good at hunting too. You loved being out in the wild—”
“Well, of course, I’m good at it,” she laughs. “One can’t cook without hunting and foraging, right?”
I raise my brows. “Yes. Because others should be hunting and foraging if you do the cooking. Just like others should be cleaning after you cook.”
She blinks, just once, and again changes the subject.
I fight to loosen my clenched fists again.
“Come, sweet. Let’s eat our breakfast, then we’ll see if you remember how to shoot a bow and arrow.”
A NEW DAY DAWNS FRESH and bright and for once, I wake without the anger that constantly plagues me like a black mark on my soul. I probably woke Bakog with my dreams as I mumbled about having a sister, but I love that I’m able to dream without being shamed of it the next day. Without feeling like I have to hide my feelings. He’s not a male to make me feel downtrodden.
My eyes are brighter and my cheeks feel fuller, like they want to pull upward into a smile instead of tensing and dragging down.
Last night was magical. I know how to shoot a bow and arrow. It didn’t feel awkward, not even at first. When the arrow soared throw the skies and found its mark, I was beyond stunned. Bakog insisted on plucking and cleaning the pheasant, and we sat at the small, smoky fire roasting the meat tender.
That was odd, how he insisted on cleaning the bird since I was the one to make the kill. I don’t want to be attracted to this orc, but I can’t help it.
The tent flap opens and a green face peers in. “You’re up.” White tusks gleam as the handsome male grins at me.
“Well, you’re noisy as a set of twin brats,” I grumble, though it’s with a smile.
And that makes him grin even wider, for some odd reason I can’t fathom.
“I know of a river, though it’s some distance away. We can pack up to leave and take a break to freshen up once there.”
“Then we’ll head to your village?”
He shrugs as if it’s unimportant. “If we want. If not, we’ll camp there.”
Part of me likes this, just him and me. No cares in the world. I can pretend we’re not of different clans, nor different people, and that I intend to kill his king.
So, I smile and rise, aware of his eyes on my breasts as I stretch, then reach for my leather binding to wrap around my breasts. My skirt comes next.
He watches the whole time, mouth slack. I don’t think it even dawns on him to look away.
I have to lift a leg to step into my skirt. I used a strip of leather at the crotch area, so if I swung too fast, the leather strips that hang from my waist wouldn’t bare me.
But I’m baring myself now as I lift a leg, exposing everything, and then lower it. I lift the left leg, slowly fit my foot into the exposed opening, and step through. Then I inch the skirt up over my legs, over my knees, up my thighs, and the leather hasn’t ever caressed me the way it does when he watches.
He’s breathing harder now, his eyes unblinking. Barely moving, save for the pulse throbbing in his throat. Then he seems to come to his senses.
“I’ll wait outside.”
I ponder that reaction the entire time I finish dressing and roll up the furs—all provided by him, because my clan didn’t leave anything behind for me. If this orc hadn’t provided his horse, and all his gear—if I’d had been forced to kill him and go out to find the others, I’d have nothing.
Nothing.
That doesn’t escape my notice.
When I head outside with the furs rolled tight, we take down the tent together, rolling it just as tight. Another thing I notice. I know I’m making it difficult on myself, comparing a male I’ve known for one day with those of my clan. But I know my clan would sit and visit with each other while I clean.
Bakog whistles for Tobias and gives me wild mint to chew. Packing up the horse, that’s when I notice he has a pouch of tooth powder and soap with flowers pressed inside the bar, along with two toothbrushes in his bath-pack.
Not one.
