Page 10 of The Savage Vow
“She shouldn’t have entered!”
“That’s cheating!”
“How is it cheating?” Nargol asked. She placed her bow back in its sheath on her shoulder. The woman’s arrow had landed true. As far as Nargol could tell, she’d won fair.
“She’s the bowyer’s apprentice!” a wide male org growled. He folded his massive arms.
“Bowyer’s apprentice?” Nargol repeated. She turned slowly and scanned the faces nearby.
Some of the spectators moved along to other contests, and others headed toward the market. There was still no sign of the human.
“Kraz,” he spat. He scowled and shook his head. “Of course she would win. It’s an unfair advantage. She shouldn’t have entered.”
Nargol’s pulse raced. She glanced back in the direction the woman had vanished.
She had to find her.
She didn’t know why, but she had to.
No matter what.
Orlena Blackwell slipped backinto the workshop through the back door. Her heart was still racing, and she was slightly out of breath. She shut the door quietly behind her and leaned against it for a moment. She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead as the sounds of the fair faded. The initial cheers had turned to distain and boos once they’d understood a human had won the contest.
She blinked.
She’d won.
The realization of the outcome of the contest sent her a little dizzy. She hadn’t meant to stay until the final round. Truly she hadn’t. She had only wanted to test the bow—her bow—under pressure. It was a unique design she’d created, and she wanted to test it out and see how it handled distance and wind. She had never thought she’d outshoot every contestant.
Especially nother.
The tall female orc had been impossible to ignore. Her smooth green skin, her pearly-white tusks that appeared to gleam in the sunlight, her broad shoulders, muscular arms… Orlena blinked. She hadn’t been aware she had caught all of that with the few glances she’d allowed herself to take. She’d tried to stay hidden where no one would recognize her while she’d participated in the contest.
The orc had remained calm. Her eyes had seemed to capture and weigh everything. Orlena’s fingers had tightened on the bowstring the moment she’d faced her. Her nerves had almost got the best of her.
Then she’d released.
Bullseye.
Orlena pushed away from the door and straightened. She removed her cloak and hung it up on the hook by the door. She quickly gathered her bow and quiver and strode across the workshop floor. The space was familiar and comforting, even with the clutter. Half-finished bows hung on the wall. Their curved, glazed frames glowed softly in the lantern light. Bundles of cured sinew rested on the worktable beside her tools. They were arranged just the way she liked them to be. She quickly hid her bow. It was her latest creation, and her boss was unaware of this design.
Hard footsteps made their way to her work area. A massive orc appeared in the doorway.
Yambul.
His amber-eyed gaze landed on her. He was an older orc who had run this shop for the past forty solars. He was a third or fourth generation of the business. Archery had been in his blood. She’d heard tons of stories of how one of his great-grandfathers had been a famous archer in a war, then came home and opened up the shop.
“You were gone too fecking long,” he complained.
“I’m sorry.” She swallowed hard. She took a deep breath and stood to her full height. She hadn’t thought he would notice the length of time she’d been gone. She’d used the excuse of wanting to go to the market for a bite to eat. “The fair was crowded. It’s such a lovely day out. I had a hard time getting back through.”
“You’re paid to work here in the shop, not wander through the fair and market,” Yambul snapped. He ran a hand across his jawline and eyed her.
“I know. I finished the orders you left me this morning.” She nodded.
“That doesn’t excuse you for disappearing for half a day.”
“I won’t do it again.” She sucked in a breath.
