Page 29 of Must Love Lavender and Little Lies
Granik looked at me when Portia turned. “Don’t say anything,” he said in a whisper.
I giggled.
“Thank you, Portia,” I told her, then gestured for Granik to follow me.
“So,” I heard Emmalyn say as she followed Portia to the back. “You’re submitting, right? You’re definitely submitting? No hemming or hawing this time?”
I smiled. How many years had Portia put together her application for the annual competition, only to not submit? I hoped Emmalyn goaded her into it.
Granik and I headed up to the talking loft, finding the books Portia had left us there. I set the stack before us, and suddenly a feeling of dread washed over me.
“That’s…a lot,” I said tepidly.
“Maybe there are illustrations.”
“Of wife throwing?” I asked with a grin.
Granik laughed.
We both set to work looking through the books Portia had brought for us. Sir Reginald Hootington the owl flew upstairs tojoin us, taking a spot on his perch behind us, seemingly peering over our shoulders to read.
Portia arrived with a tray of tea and two slices of cake.
Again, Granik gave me a knowing look, but I didn’t betray him.
“I’ll be downstairs if you need anything,” she told us. “I think I need just one last look at that rune. There was a secondary bind on that code. I need to make sure…” she began and meandered downstairs once more, muttering to herself all the while.
Most of the books had bits and pieces of information, but one of the books I uncovered talked about “couple challenges,” I said, reading aloud. “Orcish parents will often determine if a couple is suited for each other by setting challenges before them to determine their compatibility.” I turned to Granik. “What kind of challenges?”
Granik looked thoughtful. “Well, one of my brothers and his wife washed a cerberpup together. I think a timer was involved. No one got bit and the dog got washed. That’s the only one I remember.”
“So, domestic tasks.”
“I think so.”
“We should be all right with that. We do those sorts of things all the time.”
Granik nodded. “I don’t think they always do that, though. But either way, we’ll be okay.”
I turned back to my book and read more, this time reading more deeply into the meaning and significance of orcish engagements. There was a lengthy section on the custom of arranged marriage and then a section on engagements themselves. The more I read, the more I felt the blood drain from my face. My fingers and toes grew cold.
“Granik,” I said, my voice trembling.
“Mm?” he asked, having just helped himself to a massive bite of cake.
“Read,” I said, pushing a book toward him.
“Junie, you’re pale as milk.”
“Read,” I said, pointing.
I handed the book to Granik and then read over his shoulder.
In orcish customs, engagements are not to be taken lightly, which is why any prospective bride, arranged or chosen by love, must only agree to a marriage match if they are completely certain of their intent to wed. The consequences for breaking off an engagement in orcish culture are grave. First, the negative impact on a family’s reputation cannot be understated. To have a member of their family rejected post-engagement casts a pall of humiliation on the family that can impact the marriageability of any member of the family, calling into question the family’s value in orcish society. Second, any orc with whom an engagement had been broken is considered unmarriable by other members of the society and will, thereafter, be unable to marry, according to orcish custom.
“Unable to marry,” Granik read aloud.
“Didn’t you know?”
