Page 11 of The Savage Vow
Yambul was a tough orc and didn’t let her slide on much.
“See that you don’t.” He studied her for a moment longer then turned away from her. “If you do, I’ll add more time to your service.”
The words hit her like a familiar blow.
She couldn’t afford to have any more time added to her contract. She was so close to being free of the damn thing. She bit her lip to keep it from quivering.
“I won’t,” she said softly.
He grunted, apparently satisfied with what he’d heard.
“Close up the shop today. I’m heading out,” he called.
She moved over to the spot he’d vacated. He grabbed his cloak and left without another word. The front door banged shut behind him.
She exhaled slowly.
Now that he was gone, she could work in peace. Yambul was a grumpy orc who had taught her everything she knew about the fine art of bowery.
She strode through the shop and lit a few more lanterns. It was no surprise that he wanted her to close. Every day she was there before the shop opened, working for hours, and she stayed late and ensured the shop was closed. Some days she worked late on orders so they were filled in a timely manner.
Soon, customers trickled through the door. A pair of travelers came in, asking for repairs. An orc woman bought new bowstrings. A human man entered and eyed the hunting bows.
“Are you looking for anything in particular?” she asked. She came to stand next to him.
He glanced over at her nervously.
“Um, not really,” he said. He peered past her head and took in the few customers. He faced her again, and this time he lowered his voice. “It was you. I saw you at the archery?—”
“Shh…” She held a finger up to her lips.
“Don’t worry. None of them know our language,” he murmured. He’d switched over to the lost dialect. Once, it had been considered one of the main languages spoken by billions of humans thousands of solars ago.
English, it was once called.
She exhaled and nodded. She, too, looked around and found the other customers engaged in their browsing.
“Yes, it was me,” she replied in her native tongue.
She had learned it when she was a young child. Her mother had taught it to her. It had been passed down through the generations of her mother’s family. Even though the majority ofhumans spoke Universal, some still held on to the old ways of generations past. She had been surprised to learn that most of the humans in Soza spoke it.
“I was so proud of you. You did amazing.” He rested a hand on her shoulder, gave a squeeze, then brushed past her. He exited the store without a word.
She smiled softly and thought of how good it felt to be recognized by one of her own. Not too many humans had been in the crowd at the archery competition. The orcs hadn’t been too happy that a human had bested one of their kind.
They will get over it.
She blew out a deep breath and returned to work. When the flow of foot traffic finally slowed, she allowed herself to relax.
She swept the floor then wiped down the counter. She repositioned a few items that had been moved by customers browsing. Her gaze drifted to her workstation and where she’d hidden her bow. She scurried into her room and withdrew the bow. She moved back to the store front and stood at the counter.
Yambul would not return. He never did once he’d ordered her to close up the shop. There was no telling where he’d gone.
She sighed and traced her fingers over the smooth curve of the wood. She’d carved it herself from mountain yew. She’d tested its balance for weeks. The bow was nearly perfect.
Nearly.
Tomorrow morning, she would adjust the grip and fine-tune the tension. She had the deep urge to make it flawless, because perfection mattered.
