Page 31 of Alien Orc Warlord's Captive Bride

Ragnar lugs the sack over one shoulder, and crouches. I mount his back, my legs wrapped around his broad torso, as he pulls me out of the window. His hands find holds in the rough-hewn stone, bringing me down to the courtyard. It's empty, and he quickly stalks up the stairs, keeping low, and over the walls. With a grunt, he lowers himself, handhold by handhold, until we are on solid ground.

In the darkness of night, we escape. It all feels like a dream. Only when we are a mile from the castle does it hit me. The adrenaline dumps in my system, and I sob, clutching my arms around his powerful neck, feeling the certainty of my Orc savior.

"You're safe now, Aira. Forever."

"Gorak. He's planning to kill you and become Chieftain."

Ragnar sets me down. Softly. "I know. I ran into him coming down the mountain to get you when I heard you had left. He drew on me. We'll give him a proper funeral pyre. He was a warrior, to the end."

"He said there are others. Who won't accept you with a human."

Ragnar looks down at me, his green eyes certain. "Every one of the tribe will have the choice. Kiss the ring and accept you as my Queen, or be banished from my lands."

18

AIRA

"Ifeel so useless, up here alone." All I want is to be with Ragnar.

"Everything is being taken care of. The wounded are being tended to, the defenses bolstered. Ragnar can handle it," says Silga, as her brushes stroke over my back. I felt naked without the paint of the Orcs. I'm happy to be back with her, and I'm glad she survived. Only four Orcs couldn't be saved, three men and a woman who were manning the bucket line despite the hellfire, trading their lives to quench the flame. There was a funeral pyre for them earlier this day, I am told, but I was not allowed to watch.

The bride of a Chieftain must be in his cave until the feast to celebrate their union. Only Silga has kept me sane.

"You're going to look so beautiful," says Silga. "He won't be able to take his eyes off you."

"I just wish he was with me now."

"He will be. Soon. And he won't be able to take his hands off you, that I know. But you are one of us now. And that means following our rituals."

"I know. I know. What are they going to expect me to do?"

"You'll be perfect. It's nothing compared to what you've been through. First, the tribe will pledge their loyalty to his chosen Queen. Those who wronged you will apologize, and you will choose whether to spare them or end them."

I think to the young Orc who raised his mace to me. "How do I accept?"

Silga finishes painting my back, moving to my front, kneeling down by her paints while I sit on a chair made for an Orc. My feet dangle.

"Just nod."

"Can you teach me to say I forgive him?"

Silga purses her lips, dipping her brush into silver paint. "A Queen does not forgive, but she accepts an apology. Take off the ring, a moment," she says. I twist the ring off, and she says a short phrase in Orcish, the words alien without the translating device. It takes me three times to get it right.

"Put. Ring. On," she says, slowly, struggling with the words in Common, and I put the ring back on.

"We can teach each other," I say.

"I'd like that."

I look down at the silver paint. There are many pots, most with reds and oranges like before. "You're changing the paint?"

"Oh yes. We have to incorporate yesterday." I told her the whole story earlier today, the words spilling out of me, translated by the ring. She listened intently, then hugged me tight against her flat chest.

"I don't want to remember yesterday anymore."

She shrugs. "The events of the past are part of us, whether we like it or not. You will have a necklace of blades. You're a warrior, now," she says, gently stroking the silver paint on my neck.

"You said first, before. That the first part was accepting the loyalty of the warriors. Is there a second part?"

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