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“Beautiful wench. You didn’t always flutter about like butterflies. Well, most of the time you did,” he concedes. “But probably when you were both just trying to get something out of someone.”
He pulls out leggings and a longer skirt, not fluffy like a gown. More modern. “You can wear that skirt with or without the leggings. I’ve seen you and the others do both. The style has been both the human and the orc customs blended. Would look great with this”—he pulls out a top, a pale lemon shade— “but if you’re still used to only wearing black, you can do this.” He pulls out one of his tunics. “Will fit you like a dress.” He snickers. “But you’ll smell like me.”
And that will be perfect. With the open neckline, it’ll fall off one shoulder, giving him a spot to kiss. “I’ll take that.”
Once we dress, he takes my hand to walk outside and I love that. I love this big, brooding orc who caters to me like I’m his world. If I get to keep him... if I get to keep this life with him, I’ll love him so hard.
“Bakog! Jogug.” Tok and Hisa are there, and I think this is the first time ever that I see Tok smile a greeting at me.
Surely one change of clothing doesn’t make that much of a difference?
“Your hair!” Hisa squeals. “You look so different! I’d forgotten how light it was.”
I shrug, a little uncomfortable. Usually, brats have lighter hair and I never seemed to outgrow mine.
“Let’s go into the kitchens, eh? The womenfolk will be so excited that the moon ritual is working.”
“Oh, but—”
“No pressure that her memory must return,” Bakog growls at his sister.
“Of course not,” she agrees. “We’ll love you even if you never remember us.”
And as easy as that, we head into the kitchens.
Smiles are full and bright as they take us in, my hand still held in Bakog’s. His father motions us over and he squeezes us in at their table, putting me next to Bak’s mother.
“Pancakes today, sweetie,” she says, heaping a plate and putting it before me. “Used to be your favorite. It might be interesting to see if your tastes have changed.”
That’s different. It’s almost like it’s accepted that I could change. That they’d still be okay with me, even if I didn’t like the same foods I liked before.
The entire table waits while I cut a piece and take a bite. “Mmm. ‘Tis good. More than good. Great. So great.”
And then they break out in cheer. I can’t help my silly grin, feeling good that I pleased these people, feeling good when Bakog presses a kiss to my temple before we all settle into eating.
“Your mother is inside today,” Hannah says casually. “She loves the late-night moons, but has a hard time sleeping. So, she’ll have a later morn than usual. Me and the girls,” she nods at Vinshesa, Grunalda, and Bessica down the table, “will go visit with her. Take her out of the village with the brats for a walk. Make sure she gets exercise.”
They love my mom. A peace settles over my heart knowing that. Maybe... just maybe, she belongs here. She’s always belonged, no matter what horrors Stug claimed?
“Normally you would have walked with her. But I understand things are different for you. Maybe one day, you can join us on our walks? Get to know all of us again?” Her smile is gentle and wise.
“I’d like that.”
Definitely Stug was full of drama. Probably everything he uttered was a lie. Yet he has the power to destruct my relationship with Bakog. He may know the reason why I left the clan, left Bakog.
And he can tell Bakog why I chose to mate Stug over him.
At that moment, Bakog turns to whisper in my ear.
“I’ll leave you for a few hours tomorrow,” he says. “Early. I’ll head out for some training in the morning. A meeting with the royal guard follows that, will last ‘til the noon hour at least. We’re discussing what to do with the prisoners.”
I give him a small smile. “I’ll hang out in the tent and wait for you.”
That means I’m out of time. When he heads out for training, I’ll have to hurry to find the cages. Convince Stug to keep his fat mouth shut and hope Bakog doesn’t notice his matching tattoo on his ugly nose. I don’t have any qualms that Stug won’t use me as bait and it shames me to belong to him. Mayhap I can convince him that the brutal West Mountain orcs have already said they’d put any mate I have to death and the only way to save his own skin would be to deny it?
That could possibly work.
