Page 82 of Bound to the Orc Hunter

“It’s a carnival ride,” I say. “I don’t know what kind, but it has to be.”

“Yeah, it’s a Whirling Swings ride.” Ashley walks over from the brightly painted central column and gives Aurora a pat on the neck. “I turned off the music as soon as I figured out how.”

“Not soon enough.” The unicorn tosses her head. “How you humans put up with it, I’ll never know.”

“I never would have thought of something like that,” Dravarr says. “But it certainly does work.”

“It’s brilliant. She saved us all.” I pull Grace onto my lap and smooth a wayward lock of her hair away from her face. “We have to save her. We have to get her to Gerna.” My childhood friend is the only person I know who’s ever cured a human of this new form of deathsleep.

I stand, staggering a little bit, still woozy from my own brush with the vile concoction. Locking my knees, I command my body to obey. I did not pull her from the deathsleep quickly enough. I will not fail my bride again.

“Slow down.” Dravarr stands and sets a hand on my shoulder, steadying me and also keeping me in place.

“I can’t. I have to get her home by the quickest way we have.” I look at Aurora. “We need to get those sluagh off you so you can run.”

“She can’t just drop them to the ground,” Dravarr says, pointing to the large cloud of birds hanging silently over Aurora. “If no one maintains control over the trapped birds, it frees these flocks.”

“I know that,” I say.

“So we need a dragon to burn all the birds.”

My eyes go to Drake. The dragon youngling stirs sleepily. “He looks like he can barely lift his head, let alone create that much flame.”

“We gave him the other dose of antidote, but we only had the two, and I’m not sure it was enough for him. Let alone the fact that we need more for everyone else.” Ashley points over to where Riselda and several of her warriors work to bring their unconscious brethren to the dens.

“That second deathsleep gourd,” I say.

Dravarr nods. “It knocked out four cu sith.”

I crane my neck, not spotting Mist. “Where’s the feline fae?”

“Already on the shadow roads, going to get help.”

“King Aldronn?” I ask. The orc king carries a couple of doses of antidote with him as he and his royal guard travel to and from the various orc villages. I suppose they’d be enough to fully rouse the teen.

“Nope. Think bigger,” Ashley says. “We’re going to solve all our problems in one fell swoop. We sent her to the dragons.”

I try to make Grace as comfortable as I can, spreading my tent and furs on the ground underneath the shade of the trees. I hold her on my lap, unable to let her go. While we wait, Ashley orders me to eat, reminding me I’m no good to my bride unless I’m strong. My body agrees, wolfing down both of the venison steaks Dravarr cooks.

My heart pinches as I watch Grace’s face. We had no breakfast, the sluagh attack coming at first light. She would be hungry, if only she could feel it. My moon bound has a good appetite—it’s one of the things I love about her.

I dribble water into her mouth and massage her throat to get her to swallow. Deathsleep magically preserves a fae for a hundred years, so they need no food or drink. We don’t yet know if the same protection applies to humans, which is what makes it crucial to get my moon bound to Gerna as soon as possible.

I grind my teeth. It’s hard to sit still instead of riding out. Logically, I know it makes sense to stay until a dragon arrives who can potentially carry Grace to my village in only a handful of hours. Even if Aurora ran her fastest, a similar trip on unicorn back would take days.

But the waiting! By the goddess, the waiting is apt to kill me. Impatience burns through me. My foot bounces. I want to get up and pace, but I worry the motion will disturb my bride.

“I wish Grace would wake up,” a forlorn little voice says. Astrid crouches, belly to the ground, and creeps from under a bush.

“She saved us. All the adults say so.” Her brother follows, also in a pose of submission. He whines like he thinks he’s in trouble. “They told us not to bother her.”

Bittersweet pain pierces my heart. These little pups love my bride so much that they defy their elders to check on her. Grace deserves to know this, to see it for herself, so she can understand that she’s loved and valued.

“It’s okay.” I reach out and run my hand over their heads, rubbing their soft ears. “You’re not bothering her. Grace would be happy to see you and to know you cared.”

“She would?” Astrid perks up.

I nod, and they both leap to their feet and come forward, jumping onto my thighs and placing their paws on her shoulder to give her chin what she calls “little puppy kisses.”

---