Another knife comes sailing through the air, right through his left hand that’s raised in the air, snapping it back and over his head. My mouth hangs agape.
I’ve never seen such skill. It’s sexy as hell.
Then we’re surrounded by running orcs, who’ve heard the commotion.
“What’s going on here?” Jacovi asks.
“Just protecting what’s mine,” Varguk answers.
“He can’t stab one of our clansmates,” someone says. Mitrek and Ugrik, Denruk’s friends, stand near the king. My father stands on the other side of Jacovi and Grumpy is to his right.
“He’s a prisoner of West Mountain. He doesn’t have status to fight in our clan,” Ugrik says. “The male is a slave.”
“Aye, he’s a West Mountain prisoner. But not a slave,” Grumpy says. “And his job is to protect my goddaughter. That means he has every right to fight anyoneon my land.” He turns to Jacovi. “Will my prisoner be able to carry out his duties when they are in your territory? To protect my sweet, gentle goddaughter?”
I almost snort at Grumpy calling me sweet. Or gentle.
“The prisoner will have the same rules when he is in our village. He is to protect. Does any Blackheart wish to challenge this?” Jacovi looks around the group.
No one responds.
“Then someone pull those knives from his hands and return Varguk’s property to him. Oh, and without use of your hands, you can’t be on any outdoor duties. That means your whole team is off boundary protection. Someone else can bid the job and you three will have to go back to hunting.”
“How will we hunt without the use of Denruk? He can’t use his hands,” Mitrek says.
Jacovi shrugs. “You two will have to pick up the slack.”
My father heads to Denruk and viciously yanks the blade. Denruk howls… and then my father yanks the other.
I swear the wicked male is smiling when he returns to our side and hands the knives to Var.
“Good job, son.”
“Son?” Varguk’s eyes are wide.
My father shrugs. “Always wanted one of those.”
“Hey!” I snap.
“I got the next best thing,myesha. The sweetest daughter in the world who always uses her head and her heart. And look at what she brought home. An honorable male.”
“A prisoner,” Varguk says softly.
My father grins. “Aye, boy. Just like me.”
“Ahh, my heart,” Aunt Joanna says, clutching her bosom. “She found a male just like her daddy.”
Uncle Latsil grunts.
Brachard pounds his chest. “All this talk about prisoners… how about ribs for tonight’s final meal?”
He tosses an arm around my father’s shoulders, and one around my Uncle Latsil’s neck, and the three males make their way back toward the village.
Then it’s just me and Varguk left staring at each other.
“Thank you.”
He raises his brow.
