Chapter 25

After much introspection these past two years, I have come to accept that people only help you if they have something to gain. I have to change strategies. Ursha has to be convinced she'll gain something from helping me.

Think. What could she want from me?

I plaster on a smile. "Here's the thing, Ursha. I don't know about you, orcs, but humans get pretty stinky. I've been doing my best with what I had in my backpack, but I'm about to run out of clean clothes and if you won't help me find a private place to bathe, I suppose you'll just have to put up with guarding a smelly human." My mouth drops in an exaggerated O-shape when Ursha's face loses her snark. "And I could even pass it to Eirik!"

Ursha's nostrils flare. She looks me up and down, her red eyes narrowing. I can practically see the gears turning in her head as she weighs her options.

And the disgust for humans wins.

She huffs out an irritated breath. "Fine. I'll have a bucket sent to Thorn's room. But don't expect this kind of special treatment often."

Yes! I almost jump in celebration. Relief washes over me. "Thanks, Ursha. I appreciate it." Turning to Eirik, I bounce him on my arm. "Right, Eirik? You appreciate it, too, right?"

The baby chuckles as I bounce him, clapping his little hands. I meet Ursha's glare. She just grunts and turns on her heel, striding back the way we came.

I hurry to follow her. After a couple of minutes of pregnant silence, I clear my throat. "You know," I say to her back, "I don't want to stay here any more than you want me to. This is not my choice."

She shoots me a skeptical look over her shoulder. "Is that so?"

"It is." I hitch Eirik higher, my arms aching. Who knew I had to be fit to be a nanny? I'll have to pump weights. "I'd love nothing more than to go back home." Not that I have one. "To my world, at least."

Her shoulders stiffen for a second. "I bet. Your family must be worried."

And something about the way she cares for Eirik makes me want to say more. To tell her the truth—that I have no one. It might be unwise—it could only urge them to keep me here since no one will miss me—but my gut tells me orcs have a soft spot for the concept of family.

I blow out a breath. "I don't have a family."

Ursha pauses mid-step. She turns to face me fully, her brow furrowed. "You don't?"

I shake my head, suddenly vulnerable under her scrutiny. "Not really. Not anymore."

Something flickers in her expression. Pity? Understanding? It's gone before I can identify it. Her features go hard in the blink of an eye.

"We can agree on one thing at least." Ursha stares at me, then turns back to the path with long strides. "You don't belong here."

Ursha speaks the truth, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. I wince; the words are a slap. I pick up my pace further, my legs heavy from all this rushing back and forth.

Besides pumping weights, I'll also have to do cardio. It's hard to keep up with an orc's stride.

Ursha takes a turn and the scent of roasting meat and thyme slams me in the face. My mouth waters and I'm not even hungry. We pass large doors into what must be the kitchens and I have only a second to glimpse inside.

There's a massive meat-roasting pit, and the fires are already burning. Long tables are covered with all sorts of pots, pans, and sacs. Several orcs rush back and forth. I can only imagine how much work it is to feed this entire clan.

My heart swells at the memory of cooking. It's been a while. A long while.

The one thing I miss about New Obernzell is the bakery. The memory of mascarpone cheese, soft macaroons that took too long to bake and not long enough to eat, and the scent of fresh bread makes me sigh. Those were good times. I miss all the amazing things I tested, the funny mistakes, and the lessons.

There's a warmth to feeling part of a community. It brought me pride when the same people showed up every day for their strong coffee and a piece of cake. I loved being useful. I loved feeling part of the group.

Part of the group.Right. I was such a beloved member of my hometown that the mayor tried to sacrifice me to the devil. Basically a medal of honor.

We enter the dining hall, empty in the late morning. We take a few seconds to cross it—with me almost jogging. Ursha pushes open a pair of heavy wooden doors, and a gust of cold wind hits my face. I halt, slamming my eyes shut. When I open them again, an azure sky greets me.

We're outside. Bright sunlight stings my eyes after the dim firelight inside. I blink rapidly, taking in the sprawling village before me.

Despite the chill in the air, the central square is a hive of activity. It's an open, grass-covered space with a road cutting in the middle. Buildings line the edges of the square. Some look like houses, with their roofs covered in moss and grass and their porches decorated with colorful banners. The few buildings I recognize as stores boom with activity, with orcs coming in and out. I descry some sort of barn. There's even a windmill in the distance.

Orcs seem pretty self-sufficient. Unfortunately, there's no time to investigate.

Ursha doesn't slow down. The orcs ambling about the square step back when she starts down the road. Some guards glance our way.

I open my mouth to tell Ursha they'll want to kill me for being out here, but the orcs merely glance my way. Apparently, no one will try to stop us.

Finally, a good point about having Ursha as a guard. I'm not the only one who's scared of her.

The village is so different from any human town I've known. Somehow, it feels more vibrant. There's more laughter, and music, and smiles. It's much more alive. People spend time together, chatting, cackling, and enjoying life.

I turn to Ursha, a million questions bubbling up, but the hard set of her jaw tells me she's not in the mood.

So I clear my throat and ask the important question. "Where are you taking us again?"

Ursha doesn't look at me. "Away."