Page 15 of Romanced By the Orc

“Alas, Jacques is but fourteen and disposed to claim the privileges of adulthood with none of the wisdom. I’ve no doubt you did everything in your power to convince him to leave.”

“He thinks he can best help Chamberly from within its gates.”

“A noble goal, indeed. Yet we must persuade the boy otherwise. Jacques will be useless to his cause should mercenaries apprehend him.”

Albion moved toward a walnut secretary desk he had saved from being cast out when Ollie purged the inn’s back rooms. Though intended for a human, not an orc considered tall even in his homeland, its dimensions suited him well enough.

With a tug on the latch, the front drawer groaned open, revealing a writing panel and fitted slots for his cut quill pens and parchment.

“We must hurry. And no one should see us leaving this place together.”

“Because of the reward?” Edward shifted his gaze around the room as though an agent sent by the Duke of Rostin would pop out from under a loose floorboard.

“We will take even greater care but must also take quick action.”

“Would that we move faster than the Duke,” William said. “I understand he has sent agents to Calais to apprehend the Benevolent Phantom. And this is in addition to those willing to betray us for seven thousand pounds.”

“It is a dastardly amount.” Nerves frayed, Albion considered all the issues the Langleys faced, even without the added danger of a bounty on their heads. The fierce and random nature of the winds and tempests along the Channel. The severity of the coastal custom-house officers, though they were more likely to apprehend goods than people. And the poor quarters in which they hid, partially exposed to the elements.

“You have both faced danger with no shortage of courage,” Albion said. “If you choose to take leave of our mission, you would do with honor for all of your previous work.”

The brothers looked at one another and hesitated before nodding. “As ever, Lord Albion, we are at your service,” William told him. “We await your instructions.”

Albion reached into the front door of the secretary to withdraw the small rosewood box containing his waxing seal.

The sigil of a lone wolf in profile dated back centuries, before anyone had ever conceived of renaming the Hooradech mak Teer family “Higgins” for the benefit of the English. An expert jeweler had engraved the lupine emblem on the signet ring Albion proudly displayed in public, the ring’s fiery Orcan sapphires glinting in the candlelight of a supper party or ball so that one never questioned the extent of his family’s wealth.

Since he could not use this sigil for the Phantom’s correspondence, he’d ordered a new one custom-made: a rendition of a flower with delicate, drooping petals and no leaves. The flora grew so deep in the woodlands that the blossoms were nearly impossible to spot. His cousin, Hugh, an amateur botanist, had discovered it growing in the dense forestsof their homeland’s eastern coastline, disguised against tree trunks.

The Ghost Orchid. Elusive but real, like the Hidden Realm itself—a Phantom in every sense and a perfect symbol for clandestine adventures. And so the flower became the Benevolent Phantom’s seal.

He paused, staring at the orchid.

Being an orc after Albion’s own heart, Hugh longed to explore the world beyond his family’s lucrative mining company. He was given to travel to study plant life in England and the Continent, including France, Chamberly’s westerly neighbor.

Duncan had always grumbled about their cousin’s recklessness. Nevertheless, Hugh knew the sea routes between the Hidden Realm and Europe well, and excelled at skirting past the watchful eyes of custom-house officers.

Albion bent over the secretary, setting to work on a brief missive.

“Commit this to memory before I finalize its transport,” Albion told the Langley brothers, the nib of his pen scratching the paper as he spoke. “We must also deliver a message to Jacques in Chamberly to ensure he waits in readiness.”

“But, my lord!” Edward replied. “How? After our last expedition, the Duke of Rostin doubled the guards around the city’s gates.”

“A resourceful fellow near Chamberly shall see to it. The French have no love for the Duke of Rostin.”

“Such a person might get a note inside, but I don’t comprehend how we will sneak Jacques out.”

“I have a route in mind. Circuitous, but feasible. It may delay the boy’s reunion with his mother and siblings but shall be safer all in all.”

“We’ve every faith in your ability to navigate even the most complex circumstances,” William said. He had always been themore agreeable brother. His wife, Emmanuelle, had herself been rescued from Paris as a small child during the height of the Jacobin Reign of Terror. Her husband now made it a point of honor to dedicate himself to similarly daring rescues, a mission aided by his fluency in French, the tongue of most of Chamberly’s inhabitants.

“Isn’t that so, Eddie?” William jabbed his brother with his elbow.

Stubborn Edward was not so easily persuaded. Albion knew the young pup to be brave. At times, however, he seemed uncomfortable taking directions from a Lord of the Hidden Realm. “With no knowledge of your family, how can I know you shall remain true to your word?”

Albion paused, the quill pen hovering over the parchment.

“Eddie!” William exclaimed. “You have pledged your loyalty to Lord Albion!”

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