Page 27 of The Orc's Bonded Bride

“Enough!” The captain’s voice cracked like a whip. “Lasseran’s word is final. Be grateful I don’t take someone now for wasting my time.”

Her heart pounded against her ribs as the captain’s cold gaze bore into her. She held her ground, though every instinct screamed at her to back down. The square had fallen silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

“What’s your name?” the captain demanded.

Before she could answer, one of his men—a burly soldier with a pockmarked face and rust-colored beard—urged his horse forward. He circled her slowly, his eyes traveling over her with insulting thoroughness.

“This one’s got spirit, Captain,” he said, lips curling into a smirk. “Might be worth remembering when we return tomorrow.”

Her skin crawled under his scrutiny, and she heard a low growl from the darkness behind her.

The red-bearded man leaned down from his saddle, close enough that she could smell stale wine on his breath. “Pretty little thing, aren’t you? Too pretty to be just a beekeeper.” His voice dropped to a whisper meant only for her. “Lord Trevain appreciates spirited women. Perhaps I’ll mention you specifically in my report.”

Her mouth went dry. She knew exactly what such attention would mean.

“Or perhaps,” he continued, fingering the hilt of his dagger, “I could teach you some manners myself. Right now.” His eyes glittered with malice. “It would be a shame to mark that pretty face, but sometimes lessons must be… memorable.”

She stood frozen, her defiance warring with cold fear. The soldier’s threat hung in the air between them, his meaning unmistakable. She could feel the village watching, their collective breath held.

“Think carefully about tomorrow,” the man said, straightening in his saddle. “When I return, I expect to see you with your head bowed and your mouth shut. Or we’ll have a very different conversation.” He tapped his dagger meaningfully. “One that ends with you understanding your place.”

Her blood ran cold at the soldier’s threat, but a deeper sound sent a different kind of chill through her body—a low, rumbling growl from the shadows behind her. She didn’t need to turn to know it was Egon, his rage barely contained, but she risked a quick glance over her shoulder. She caught the amber flash of his eyes, his massive form half-hidden but poised to spring. The set of his jaw and the tension in his shoulders told her everything—he was seconds away from charging into the square.

She gave a slight, sharp shake of her head, locking eyes with him. Don’t. She tried to pour every ounce of warning into her gaze. If Egon revealed himself now, attacked these soldiers… her mind raced through the consequences. The village would be punished. People would die. Egon would be hunted.

The red-bearded soldier noticed her distraction.

“Something caught your eye, female?” He twisted in his saddle, following her gaze.

Forcing a neutral expression, she quickly looked back at him. “Nothing. Just… considering your words carefully.”

Her heart hammered against her ribs as another soft growl reached her ears, too low for the soldiers to hear but clear enough to her. He wasn’t backing down.

She shifted her weight slightly as she bowed her head, angling her body to block the soldier’s view of the shadows where Egon lurked. One wrong move, one glimpse of an orc in their midst, and everything would explode into violence.

“Smart girl,” the soldier sneered, misinterpreting her compliance. “Tomorrow, then.”

The captain turned his horse at the edge of the square, raising his voice so all could hear. “Remember this, peasants. Those who refuse the High King’s generous terms will face the consequences.” His lips curled into a cruel smile. “He has a special… army with an appetite for disobedient villages. Beast warriors. I’ve seen what remains afterward—or rather what doesn’t remain. Trust me when I say you don’t want that fate.”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, and her blood ran cold. Beast warriors. The very thing Egon had mentioned investigating. Her eyes darted to the shadows where he remained hidden, wondering what knowledge he possessed of these creatures.

“To ensure your cooperation,” the captain continued, “Dorn and Vex will remain until our return tomorrow.” He gestured to two soldiers, who dismounted with smug expressions. “They’ll keep watch and report any… difficulties.”

The two guards took positions at opposite ends of the square, hands resting on their weapons. Their presence transformed the once-welcoming village center into an occupied territory.

Elder Harta approached her as the crowd dispersed, her weathered face lined with worry. “This is bad, child. Very bad.”

“I know,” she whispered, acutely aware of Egon still hidden in the shadows. She needed to get back to him without drawing attention.

“That soldier marked you,” Harta warned, her voice barely audible. “Be careful.”

She nodded, her throat tight. “What do you know of these… Beast warriors?”

Harta’s eyes widened with fear. “Only rumors. They say Lasseran has found a way to twist men into monsters—creatures with the strength of ten warriors and no mercy in their hearts. Some say they’re half-orc abominations, bred for war.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Half-orc. Was this why Egon had been traveling this way?

One of the guards—Dorn, the broader of the two—spat on the ground and glared in her direction. “Move along, women. Nothing to see here.”

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