Page 26 of The Orc’s Comfort

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” I say quietly, watching the conflict play across his face. “About your traditions. About what this means.”

He closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them, there’s a look I haven’t seen from him before, not his usual reserve, but something rawer. Like a man standing at the edge of something, unsure the ground will hold.

“Yes,” he says. “There is.”

“Tell me.”

The two words land simply between us. His jaw works. His hands, still unsteady, close into loose fists at his sides.

“I…” He stops. Starts again. “What I can tell you is that what just happened was not accidental. Not on my part.” His gaze holds mine. “The rest requires more courage than I currently possess. But I will find it. I promise you that.”

It’s not enough. We both know it’s not enough. I hold his gaze and let him see that I know.

“I can wait,” I say finally. “But Rhazgar, whatever this is, it matters. And I will need to understand it fully. All of it.”

“I know.” The words come out rough. “You deserve nothing less.”

We stand here for a moment, both of us slightly undone.

“You call to something in me I thought I’d lost when my world disappeared,” he says quietly, not moving. As if he needs to say it before the moment closes.

I look at him for a long moment. He let me kiss him with silver thistle on his tongue, admitted it means something significant in his culture, and is now asking me to wait while he works up the nerve to explain what. The aggravating thing is I believe him. The more aggravating thing is I’m going to let him.

“I’m a librarian,” I say finally. “I research things. Whatever you’re not telling me, I’m probably going to find it.”

His throat works once, something complicated crossing his face. “I know.”

“Good.” I hold his gaze one beat longer, making sure he understands I mean it. Then I reach down and pick up a stray sprig of thistle from the floor. “Now show me how to finish this preparation.”

As we return to the counter, the air between us remains charged, but differently than before. Not just possibility now. Something more specific. Something with a deadline.

Chapter Eleven

Rhazgar

I close my door and stand in the dark, not reaching for the light.

She knows something is wrong. The warning was clear, I’m a librarian, I research things. I don’t blame her. For almost a week, I’ve been feeding her courtship meals while she thought I was healing her ankle.

The stone mortar is still on the counter from this morning. I put it away with more care than it requires.

I don’t know how long I stand there before my phone chimes. Grulk.

I know you’re in there. I can smell your misery.

I consider not responding, but he won’t leave now, he’s got me cornered.

Come in, door’s unlocked.

He lets himself in a moment later, looks at me once, and goes to my kitchen. I hear him filling the kettle. This is not a HammerFall behavior, tea is WarmHearth, but he learned it somewhere in the last eight years.

He sets two cups on the table and sits. He waits.

“I kissed her,” I say. “With the silver thistle. She offered it to me and I…” I stop. “It was not calculated. But it happened.”

“And she doesn’t know what it means.”

“She doesn’t know what any of it means. Not the meals. Not the thistle.” I sit. “In WarmHearth tradition, we are already something to each other. She has no idea.”