Page 4 of His Noble Savior

Chapter Two

Lilian

His captors had been caught up in an argument when the nicker of a horse and the pounding of hooves tore Lilian out of his haze. He’d been lying on the cold ground, every part of his abused body aching from what the orcs had done to him before discarding him in a corner of their camp. It was the same torment every day. As he lifted his head, the smell of old blood mixed with the sharp stench of rotting meat, making him gag.

Every breath hurt. When the orcs left him alone for a couple of hours before they resumed ravaging his body, Lilian’s mind drifted away with the small white clouds passing overhead, carrying him home to the faerie realm. Fae healed quickly as long as the wound wasn’t inflicted by iron, but lately, Lilian took longer and longer to recover from his external and internal injuries. His wounds and bruises piled onto each other, new ones forming before the old ones had healed.

It’d been a long time since he’d last tried to escape. In the early days of his captivity, Lilian had run at every opportunity, only to be dragged back to the orcs’ camp. They’d inflict savage punishment on him for the transgression, the retribution worse than anything they would’ve done had he stayed put. His attempts to escape became rare. It’d been months since he last tried. That time, the punishment had been so bad Lilian swore he’d never run again unless he was certain he’d get away.

When he heard the horse, Lilian was anything but certain. But orcs didn’t ride. Horses meant humans. Humans who’dbeen at war with the orcs for months. Traitorous hope bloomed. Horses were faster than orcs.

Lilian glanced at the orcs still hissing and growling at each other. They’d see him if he jumped to his feet and ran, but he’d have a head start, and the horse sounded near.

Praying he wouldn’t regret this, Lilian leaped off the ground, every bone groaning in protest. He bolted between the trees. The orcs roared, and the foul taste of horror filled Lilian’s mouth. He was weaker than the last time he’d tried to run. Slower.

The familiar cracking and snapping of branches as the orcs stomped after him drove Lilian forward, mobilizing the last of his strength. Blood rushed in his ears. His heart hammered. He sprinted out of the grove and onto the open field, ignoring the sharp pain burning his insides.

Bathed in golden sunlight,herode onto the field. A man descended from heaven. Bronze curls. His face was as timelessly beautiful as a marble statue’s. Cherry blossoms danced around him in the light breeze. He was clad in stately armor and spearheading a group of knights, a sword strapped to his hip. A golden coat of arms graced his cuirass: the man was a lord. Seated on a majestic white horse, he raced toward Lilian.

Lilian ran to him, bound to collide. Humans were the sworn enemies of orcs, and whoever this man was, he meant salvation.

When they were mere yards apart, the lord scooped down, caught Lilian around the waist and hoisted him into his lap. The wave of relief that washed over Lilian had all his muscles going loose. Thank goodness the nobleman held onto him, pressing him to his chest, otherwise, Lilian would’ve fallen off the horse as they made a sharp turn, galloping away.

He sagged against the lord’s chest, and the scent of sandalwood and leather enveloped him. A small gasp fell off his lips. After being surrounded by the stench of orcs for months, Lilian inhaled greedy lungfuls of the world’s sweetest scent—safety. Tears of relief streaked his face, and for a moment, all pain was forgotten.

Within minutes, they were out of the orcs’ reach, and the horse slowed to a trot. In the corner of his eye, Lilian caught movement—the nobleman unclipping his cloak. He slid it off and wrapped Lilian’s naked body in it. The soft wool hugged him, and the lord’s divine fragrance intensified, subtle notes of musk and man promising him protection.

Lilian floated. For months, not even during the coldest winter nights, had Lilian had a stitch of clothing on him, his life magic the only thing keeping him out of death’s grip. He didn’t know who the nobleman was or what his intentions were, but it didn’t matter. He had no reason to save Lilian, a lesser fae who owned nothing, was worth nothing. It spoke volumes of his character that he had.

The weight of the past months crashed into Lilian, and he descended into a full-body tremble. Ragged breaths shook him.

“You’re safe.” The nobleman’s tone was gentle and low. “We’ve left the orcs behind. My knights are watching over us and will alert me should danger arise, but I don’t expect trouble. With every step, the horse is carrying us deeper into my territory. Nobody will hurt you.”

Lilian soaked up the words, the lord’s voice velvet in his ears. It soothed him, his tremors ebbing away as tenderness encased him. The nobleman’s every word drained Lilian’s fear. His timbre was as warm as a slow-burning fire, a soft and low rumble of reassurances.

“My name is Richard. We’re riding toward my castle, but you can go anywhere you want. If you have family, I can take you to them. If you want to return to the faerie realm where you can heal and be looked after, I can take you there. Let me know where you’d feel safe or who you trust, and I’ll ensure you get tothem.”

Lilian had no one who cared about him, who’d look after him while he healed. Flora had run when he needed help the most, abandoning him to the orcs. She couldn’t have fought them, but if she’d stayed in the vicinity, she could’ve helped him escape in the early days when he’d still been strong.

Flora had never cared about him. She’d only been concerned with how useful he was to her. Lilian had long ago realized this bitter truth. He hadn’t mattered to his friend, and he hadn’t matter to his family either. People always abandoned Lilian. His parents had left him to fend for himself when he was a young child. It wasn’t uncommon among fae. Many tired of their offspring, and fae children were more self-sufficient than human ones and could survive on their own—with a bit of luck. Lilian didn’t remember much of his parents, but he recalled foraging alone in the forest after their departure, collecting anything edible from roots to worms. One day, he’d wandered into Verdell, a sizable town at the heart of the Spring Court, where he eventually became a potter’s apprentice. The old fae yelled abuse at him every day and beat him more than once, but at night Lilian was allowed to sleep in front of the kiln, which was warm from a day of usage. When Lilian hit adolescence and asked to be paid for his work, the old fae kicked him out. Lilian returned to the woods where he met Flora. Later, when the orcs caught him, he accepted his fate—he’d be held captive until his body disintegrated under the orcs’ ceaseless abuse. Nobody cared enough to safe him, to even look for him.

Then Richard had swooped in, plucked him out of the hands of the beasts and whisked him away on a white horse. Lilian couldn’t believe he’d been rescued. Safety embraced him. He sank into it, his mind drifting away under Richard’s soothing words. Exhausted, his head dropped onto Richard’s shoulder. The position wasn’t comfortable, and the ride was rocky, but forthe first time in months, Lilian’s exhausted body fell into a deep sleep.

He woke hours later, his back and shoulders stiff, but he was warm, his mind sliding through a comfortable haze. As his senses returned, a bouncing motion jarred him out of his sleepy state. Lilian’s eyes flew open. He was on a horse. Leaning against someone. Two arms clad in leather armor of excellent craftsmanship bracketed him, and hands the color of warm sand held the reins. A welcome sandalwood scent filled his nostrils. Dazed, Lilian straightened.

“It’s good you’re awake,” a voice as rich and soft as warm butter said. “We’re almost at Somerdale Castle.”

A silent sob left Lilian. He was safe.

“What’s your name?” Richard asked.

“Lilian.” It came out as a croak—in captivity, he’d used his voice for nothing but screaming.

“How are you feeling?”

A tear slid down Lilian’s cheek, and he was glad Richard couldn’t see it. Nobody had ever cared about how he felt, and he didn’t know how to answer. He was relieved and thankful to be away from the orcs and with someone who showed him grace. His insides were throbbing with unspeakable pain. Hunger gnawed at him. Yet a glimmer of hope flickered in his heart.

“I’m not sure,” Lilian said truthfully.

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