Page 57 of The Orc’s Comfort

“I’m fine,” I call, but my voice cracks.

“Your scent has changed.” A pause. “I’m coming in.”

“Rhazgar, this is the women’s—”

The door opens. He fills the doorway, still wearing his demonstration apron, a wooden spoon clutched in one hand. His amber gaze finds me on the floor, and his expression shifts to something between wonder and concern.

“How long?” he asks quietly, setting down the spoon and sitting beside me on the tile floor.

“How long what?”

“How long have you been feeling ill?” He touches my face gently. “Three weeks? Four?”

“I don’t know what you—”

“Julia.” His hand moves to rest on my stomach. “You’re pregnant.”

The word hits the exact place I’ve been carefully avoiding for three weeks.

“You don’t know that,” I say too quickly. “I haven’t taken a test. We’ve been careful.”

“I’ve known for three weeks.” His voice is soft. “Your scent changed. Richer. Sweeter. Like caramelized honey.”

“Three weeks?” I stare at him. “You’ve known for three weeks and didn’t say anything?”

“I was waiting for you to feel safe enough to tell me.” His thumb traces my cheekbone. “Though I’ll admit, the waiting has been torture.”

My mind races. Pregnant. I’m pregnant. With a hybrid child. “Oh, my God. I’m terrified,” I whisper.

“So am I.” His admission surprises me. “Terrified and honored and—” He stands, helps me up, and pulls me into his embrace despite the cramped quarters. “We’ll handle this together. Whatever comes.”

A sharp knock interrupts us. “Julia? The camera crew is getting impatient—” Eliza tries the handle, finds it locked. A pause. “Wait, did I hear Rhazgar? Oh. Um. Should I tell them ten minutes?”

“Five,” Rhazgar calls back. “Tell them we’re consulting about culinary traditions.”

After her footsteps retreat, I look up at him. “We can’t tell anyone yet. Not until I’ve seen a doctor. Not until we know for sure that everything is—”

“We can’t tell the humans, you mean.” He leans back just far enough to look at me. “But with orcs, it isn’t a matter of telling. Any orc who comes within scenting distance will already know, whether we’ve decided to say anything or not. Which means Elder Korgath will know the moment she’s near you. We might as well tell her properly, so she can help.”

“After we know it’s real,” I insist. “Not before.”

He tips my chin up to look into my eyes. “It’s real, Julia. I promise you.” A pause. “Grulk is coming today.”

My eyes slam shut as I groan. “He’s going to tell everyone. Orc and human, the second he scents me.”

“He will,” Rhazgar says. “And there is nothing in any world that will stop him.”

The interview goes smoothly, though I’m hyper-aware of Rhazgar’s gaze on me the entire time. When the interviewer asks about future projects, I manage to discuss the second cookbook without mentioning the other project currently making me nauseous.

The interviewer wraps up, shakes my hand, and says the segment will air Thursday. I thank her and watch her crew pack up their equipment and think: a year ago, a board member stood in this very hall and decided this exhibition wasn’t worth the trouble. That this culture wasn’t worth the room.

He’s not here tonight. The hall is full, the book table has been stripped bare, and a woman just told me her daughter married into HammerFall clan and needs this book to understand her family. Some things don’t need a confrontation. They just need time and enough people willing to show up.

Afterward, we navigate through the congratulatory crowd. Rhazgar keeps one hand on my back, a steady presence.

“Julia! Rhazgar!” Grulk crosses the room toward us, his vest adorned with so many clan pins it looks like armor. “The cookbook is magnificent. I’ve pre-ordered seventeen copies. The adaptation techniques alone are worth—”

He stops mid-sentence. His nostrils flare, once, sharp.