Harvestbound to the Orc

by Luna Draven · Epic Orc Romantasy

Tamsin reads a room by its hungers. That is the whole trade. Eleven years at the ovens before dawn, and she can name what anyone at her counter cannot ask for, and has never once let anyone read her the same way. Then the dough lies cold as a river stone under her hands, and her hand comes up out of the flour sack grey. Hedrek has known for nine days. One sack, then three, then six. The miller-orc has been counting, and quiet, and eating less, handing his own heel of bread to a twelve-year-old and saying he already ate. He was fed at Ironmoor when the stores stopped feeding everyone, and he has spent ten years keeping that ledger even. Now he asks Tamsin to sit on the one thing she has never sat on: trouble headed for people who trust her to see it coming. Tell a valley its grain will rot before harvest and you do not get careful neighbors. You get a run. Something under the mill wants first and best, freely given, and the old tithe in the ledger lapsed a generation back because nobody remembered why it was there. It does not weigh a person like a person. It weighs like a buyer turning a coin. Feed the valley or rank it. Give yourself, or let yourself be given to. The choosing is the trap, and two people who have spent their lives on opposite sides of a table are about to learn it together. Stone & Storm, Book 13. Grumpy-sunshine with the polarity flipped, a slow, quiet mountain of an orc and the brisk, bossy warmth that has been feeding him without either of them admitting it. Standalone, happily ever after guaranteed.

As an Amazon Associate, Dreamcrest Publishing earns from qualifying purchases.