Page 12 of The Savage Vow
It always had.
She’d learned that early on—had learned it the hard way.
When she’d come to Soza at the young age of eight solars, she hadn’t understood the reasoning. A contract was all that her father had said. She’d clutched his hand and tried not to cry. She was a big girl, and big girls didn’t cry.
Her mother had made her promise to be strong for her father and brother. Orlena had done it, too. The light in her mother’s eyes had faded moments later.
Her father had been desperate for money. Her mother’s sickness and death had drained everything they had. Grief had done something to her father. Tavis Blackwell was not the same man after his wife’s death. He was broken, and raising two kids had been too much for him.
Apparently, he had heard about working contracts in Soza. One where a person could work off a debt. He’d bargained, and before she knew it, she was given to Yambul for a price. He’d paid her father, then promised her food and shelter for exchange for work.
She hadn’t known it would be for decades.
At first she had received letters from her father. Short ones he’d written where he apologized to her and promised her the contract wouldn’t be for long. She’d believed every letter where he’d spoken of her returning.
But then his letters had come less and less.
Then none.
It had been solars since she’d last communicated with him.
Orlena pressed her lips together and set her bow aside. The familiar ache of abandonment settled deep in her chest.
What had happened to her father?
She wondered about her younger brother, Tashard. He would be thirty-five now. He was three solars younger than her, but in her mind he was forever frozen as a boy who scraped his knees and had a crooked smile. She imagined him to be taller now, maybe even married with children of his own.
She hoped he’d found happiness.
Heck, she hoped he was alive.
The shop bell chimed again. She blew out a deep breath. With the fair going on this weekend, the steady flow of trafficwas expected. She slid the bow underneath the counter on a shelf where customers wouldn’t see it. She didn’t want to have to explain that this particular bow was not for sale—at least not yet. Yambul had yet to see it, and she was sure he was going to have a fit that she’d designed one on her own.
She looked up to greet the newcomer. She froze in place, unable to move.
The woman from the contest was there in the store. She was just as Orlena remembered. Tall, muscular, and unmistakable.
This was the female orc she’d beaten. Now, here she stood, as if she belonged. Her amber eyes locked on Orlena with a startling intensity.
Orlena’s mouth went dry.
“Um…” she began but then stopped. She was unsure of what she could even say. She cleared her throat and was shocked that her feet went into motion. She slowly made her way around the counter. Her mind was racing at the moment. How did the orc know where she worked? Her hood had slid off her head for a mere second. She’d taken off at a swift run once she’d won.
Did the female orc know it was her who had beaten her?
“How can I help you?” Orlena asked. She folded her hands together to keep them from trembling. To keep her nervousness from showing, she moved over to the wall nearest the orc where they had the latest bows they’d crafted. She eyed the female in hopes she didn’t know who she was. “These are our latest line of bows. I can show?—”
“I want to know why you ran,” the orc said.
Well, feck. That answered Orlena’s question.
The orc’s amber eyes tracked Orlena. The emotion in her gaze sent an unexpected shiver down Orlena’s spine. Her voice was husky, low and calm. Her dark hair was pulled away from her face in intricate designs. Her tusks were pearly-white, appeared sharp, but didn’t take away from her beauty. Orlenahadn’t realized how much larger this woman was compared to her. She swallowed hard and took her hand off the bow she’d reached for and turned back to her. She had to rear her head back to meet her eyes.
“I wasn’t supposed to enter the contest.” Orlena sighed. She had told Yambul that she was going out for a short bit, not long enough to enter and win an entire contest.
“But you won.” The orc arched an eyebrow at her. She folded her arms and cocked her head to the side. Her gaze swept over Orlena in a slow, steady manner.
Orlena’s breath caught in her throat again. The heat from this female’s gaze was almost hot enough for her to feel. If she’d closed her eyes, she would have sworn the orc’s hands had caressed her skin.
