Page 10 of The Orc's Princess Bride
“You seem to forget that I was there,” Wulf said quietly. “When you first saw her.”
He stiffened. He didn’t need to ask what Wulf meant. A heavy silence fell between them, and he knew the other male was studying him, waiting for an answer.
“Have you acknowledged it yet?” Wulf finally asked. “The mate bond?”
His Beast growled approvingly, recognizing truth when it heard it. The connection he’d felt with Jessamin from the first moment, the way his senses heightened around her, the visceral need to protect her—it wasn’t just attraction or duty.
It was the mate bond. The rare, sacred connection that sometimes formed between orcs and their true mates. The same bond Wulf and Egon shared with their mates.
“There is no bond,” he said flatly, though his Beast snarled in protest. “There can’t be.”
“Because you will not allow there to be?” Wulf’s voice hardened. “You’re fighting it. I can see it in every line of your body. Why?”
He whirled to face him. “Because I am King! I don’t have the luxury of following my heart the way you did.”
“A mate bond is not a luxury, Ulric. It’s a gift. One our people desperately need to see right now.”
“A gift?” He gave a bitter laugh. “When there’s a traitor in our midst? When Lasseran’s agents are plotting against us? When my own wife—” He cut himself off, unwilling to voice his suspicions even to Wulf.
Wulf’s eyes narrowed. “Your own wife what?”
“Nothing,” he said, moving to his desk and shuffling through papers. “How is your harvest looking? With the possibility of war on the horizon, we will need to preserve everything we can.”
The abrupt change of subject hung awkwardly between them. Wulf stood still for a long moment, then sighed heavily.
“Very well,” he said finally. “We’ve had an abundance of apples and are drying them for storage. But that’s not why I’m here.”
“That’s all I wish to discuss,” he said, his voice brooking no argument.
Wulf studied him, disappointment evident in his eyes. “Very well, my king.” The formal address was deliberate. “I’ll have a full report sent to you by morning.”
He turned to leave but paused at the door. “She makes you better, you know. When you let her. I’ve seen it. The whole court has seen it.” His voice softened. “Don’t let fear rob you of what the gods have given you.”
The door closed behind him with a soft click, leaving him alone with the weight of unspoken truths.
Outside, thunder rumbled across the mountains, echoing the turmoil in his heart. His Beast paced restlessly within him, agitated by Wulf’s words.
Mate, it growled.Ours.
But the king—the male who had just ordered shadows placed on his queen—silenced it with ruthless efficiency.
The mate bond was real. He’d known it from the moment he’d first seen her, felt it grow stronger with every touch, every shared look. It was why the thought of her betrayal cut so deep, why the mere thought of her in danger had sent him racing back to Port Cael.
But he couldn’t acknowledge it. Not now. Not when acknowledging how much he truly needed her would destroy him if she proved false.
He moved to the window, watching as lightning split the darkening sky. The storm was coming, whether he was ready or not.
CHAPTER SIX
The morning air bit with a sharp chill as Jessamin made her way to the training grounds. She had spent extra time braiding her hair in the Norhaven style, weaving in small leather cords as she’d seen the orc women do. She hadn’t seen Ulric again since the previous morning, but she’d told herself that wasn’t unusual. And perhaps he’d needed time to consider what had happened between them—what might happen again today. Her heart raced with anticipation.
Until she saw who awaited her.
Not Ulric’s towering form, but the stocky, grim-faced Captain Grak stood beside the massive black warhorse. His scarred green face betrayed no emotion as he bowed stiffly.
“Your Majesty. I am to continue your riding instruction.”
Disappointment hit her like ice water thrown in her face. Perhaps it wasn’t surprising given his remoteness at the end of the lesson, but that didn’t stop it from stinging. Her step faltered briefly before she forced herself forward, chin high.
