Blacklake-Book4-1 Three Cousins

Chapter 14
~

“Would ya mind if I looked for my own place?” I asked Mama at breakfast. Never would have asked if Papa was here. But he’d eaten early and headed for one of his many offices. Daze had picked up Thomas already.

She lay her tablet, which she was readin’ the news on, down flat on the table and looked across at me. A good sign of overthinkin’, I’d guess.

A twitch worked its way around in my gut. It wasn’t a glare. She didn’t look angry. Or happy. Couldn’t read a bit of emotion in her face. I needed one of our fifty growls.

“Don’t see ya cookin’ yar own breakfast every morning,” she finally said.

“Well. I could go to the Inn. Almost on my way to the office.”

“If I’m not mistaken, ya’re gonna be spendin’ a few more semesters on the Plain finishin’ up yar post grad. So why have a place just sittin’ here unused?”

Wow. That made sense. Gonna be hard to argue that one. A flame ticked in my brain case. “Well. Prolly won’t find a place right away. Not like there are empty cabins sittin’ around in the Hamlet.”

“I embarrassed ya, dressin’ like I did last night,” she said.

She coulda slapped me with less pain.

I prepared to argue. Then considered maybe honest thoughts were for the best. What the gods would suggest, if the gods suggested much.

But she beat me, sayin’, “Papa thought I looked kinda sexy. His words. Not one for unsolicited compliments. But if ya think ya’re holdin’ us back from actin’ how we wanna act in our own home, ya’re pretty ignernt.”

“Ignernt?” I mumbled.

“Where ya think ya and yar siblings came from? Ya think we’ve held off being open ’cause ya four were around?”

“Well. Maybe.”

She laughed, her shoulders and ample bosom bouncin’ around hard. Maybe her lip even caught on her tusk. “I shoulda worn that slinky number years ago, maybe yar hen sibling woulda gotten herself mated off earlier, yar bull siblings less reliant on their mama’s cookin’.”

This conversation was exactly why I’d figgered just to call a realtor quiet like. “So, my own place wouldn’t wound yar heart.”

Her laugh erupted again. I waited way too long for her to catch her wind. “Cookin’,” she finally wheezed, “is one of my few joys. All ya younglings were raised to wash yar own clothes, clean yar own rooms, by the time ya were three. All ya four ever gave me and yar papa is joy. Ya move out when ya’re ready to raise yar own brood, or not. This will always be yar home.”

The last maybe tightened my chest a bit. She said more than her usual, but didn’t answer whether she’d like to have more privacy to dress sexy for her mate.

She drew her tablet back to her as she said, “Finish up. Almost seven o’clock. Don’t want no one thinkin’ I raised a no account. Not like yar papa didn’t leave me a dozen projects to check on.”

~ Ezra ~

When the tiny human server told me Daze and Thomas were in the dining room, my kneejerk reaction was to growl at her for thinkin’ I needed to know that.

Zarade spoke up and suggested I could take a minute and check in with them. Have no idea why that idea struck her itty bitty ogre brain. Why would she think I would want to visit with Daze, and that idjit human?

“Oh, stop yar growlin’,” Glaar, my favorite troll, grumbled. “Not like we can’t survive without ya for ten minutes.”

“Never visited with Daze before,” I argued. “Don’t know why he’s even here. We don’t have any fresh crickets.”

“Imagine it’s more about no one preparin’ a go lunch for that human,” Vlas purred.

I suggested she should tend to her pastries. Or the cake she was currently frostin’. The orc hen cackled like I said something funny. Glaar hissed at me, “Just go already.”

I slammed my fist on the counter. Think the whole room, all ninety feet of it, jogged around a bit. The four hens gave me a glare. Stinkin’ opinionated, nosy hens. Fine! I dried my hands some on my apron before pullin’ it from around my neck, slammed it on the counter, and marched for the dining room. Maybe a subtle song of giggles struck my back. Stinkin’ hens. Can’t keep their snouts in their own business.

I caught sight of Daze first. Noted he held a white to-go box in front of him. Not like one we provide at the Inn. Rude of him to bring food here from home. Thomas looked more like a youngling, compared to the troll’s massive form. He looked my way when Daze waved a shovel-sized hand at me. We didn’t speak as I replaced the human-sized open chair at their table with a proper ogre one.

Seated, I couldn’t help notin’ the strange look the human shot me. I growled at him to sit. Why’d he stand, anyway?

“Good to see ya,” Daze told me. “Ya’re lookin’ dandy today.”

All I needed was a smooth-talkin’ troll wastin’ my time. I looked down at my simple smock, near-ankle-length denim skirt. “Nothing dandy about me, and ya know it,” I growled.

Thomas looked at Daze. “Can you identify the tone of that growl for me?”

“Was just what ya think it was,” he said. “Takes less time to get used to the whims of an ogre hen than ya’d expect.”

I pointed a finger at him. He rushed to snag a live cricket out of his go box.

“Why’d you and Ike talk about Daze like he’s a sociopathic criminal?” Thomas asked.

“Criminal?” Daze echoed.

“In truth, his size scares most folk anyway,” I said. Might as well be honest. “And his quiet way warns ’em away too.”

“It does?” Daze asked between crunches. “Hmm.”

“Best boss I’ve ever had,” Thomas said, sharin’ a smile with the troll. The suck up.

Don’t know why that irritated me. Daze told him he couldn’t have that gettin’ around. He grumbled at Thomas to eat, ’cause they needed to get back to work. Even tryin’ to sound harsh, didn’t work for the bull.

“Heard there’s a lot of sign wavers at the site,” I said.

“Were a lot more,” Thomas said between bites. “Before Ike worked the crowd.”

“He’s a good talker,” Daze said. “When his papa’s ready to retire from the council, he’ll have a ready replacement.”

The two chatted for a moment, as Thomas hit Daze with a dozen questions about his statement. Clearly, he’s totally ignernt in the ways of clan governance.

“He’ll of course be popularly elected,” Daze clarified. “But being put forward by the present clan and council lead, means it will happen.”

Thomas bleated about there being two elder—he called em sons, which doesn’t get used often in the Hamlet. Asked why they wouldn’t be the natural next leaders, “considering the patriarchal structure of the clan.”

“We don’t use that term,” I growled. Thomas looked at me, maybe blankly, but hard to say, since most human expressions look pretty blank, and ignernt, to me. Why did I have this ball of irritation in my gut?

“The hens pretty much run everything,” Daze clarified, softly. “They just let the bulls act like they do.”

Thomas studied me a moment. As though there was reason to contradict the troll. “Fact,” I answered.

“So if I asked you out for an ale after work, would I be breaking any clan rules?”

I believe the entire dining room quieted. Even the human vacationers.

“Bulls absolutely, normally initiate the courtin’ process,” Daze said, clearly not recognizin’ the eerie change in the broad chamber.

“Who said anything about courting?” Thomas asked the bull.

“Why else would ya ask her to have an ale with ya?” Daze answered.

Oh, the gods better step in, or the fit would hit the ceiling shans rotatin’ above us. This conversation would be shared fifty times in the next ten minutes, and each subsequent tellin’ would imply I was preparin’ to elope with the idjit. And worse. That we already had, and I had a dozen buns in the oven.

~