Page 2 of The Orc's Princess Bride
Cage, his beast growled, but better a cage than a coffin.
CHAPTER TWO
The commotion in the courtyard below drew Jessamin’s attention, and she looked down to find Ulric astride his massive warhorse. The beast’s sides heaved with exertion, foam flecking its powerful shoulders.
But it was Ulric’s face that captured her attention—panic etched across features usually carved in stoic determination. Golden eyes locked on hers and her breath caught. She’d never seen him like this, wild and fierce. His hands were clenched around the reins, huge and powerful, and his shoulders were bunched with tension, his chest heaving as if he’d run from the mountains rather than ridden.
She had the sudden, startling impression that he had been afraid for her. Before she could react, the wild look vanished from his face. Like a shutter falling closed, his expression hardened. His usual stern mask descended, transforming him once more into the remote, untouchable ruler of Norhaven. The transformation was so complete that she almost doubted what she’d seen.
She retreated from the balcony, one hand pressed against her stomach to quiet the flutter of nerves. What could have causedhim so much alarm? There had been no disturbances, no threats. The day had been peaceful, almost pleasant, although she’d missed her husband.
After the attempt to poison her, he’d politely but firmly insisted that she take up residence in his stronghold, rather than remain in the former convent with the Brides. She’d been too shaken by the incident to object, and she’d discovered she enjoyed being close to him. Despite the distance he seemed so determined to keep between them, they usually saw each other at least once a day, more if there were some official duties to perform.
He’d fallen into the habit of joining her for breakfast, asking her politely about her plans for the day. He’d even begun telling her more about the affairs of the realm. He didn’t exactly ask her advice, but he was usually willing to answer her questions and he always listened courteously to her opinions. And occasionally his mask would slip for an instant and she would see something in his eyes—a warmth, a hunger that made her heart skip a beat.
He’d been gone for two weeks and every morning she’d looked at the empty place across the breakfast table and felt the loneliness of his absence. But now he was back and he was upset. She had to know why.
Before she could go to him, the door to her sitting room burst open without a knock and Ulric filled the doorway. Even after all these months, the sight of him still stole her breath. Tall and powerful with a heavily muscled physique built for battle. The silvery scars marring the deep mossy green of his skin bore evidence to those battles. His features were strong rather than handsome, with high cheekbones and a surprisingly sensual mouth framed by fierce tusks.
But it was his eyes that always drew her attention and today they burned with golden fire, despite his controlled mask. The neat warrior braids that usually confined his dark, silver-streaked hair were in disarray, and he seemed even larger than usual, bristling with barely contained energy, his presence expanding to fill every corner of the room.
“Your Majesty,” she said politely, her voice calm. “Is something amiss?”
His eyes swept the chamber, cataloging every detail. “Who has been in these rooms today?”
The warmth that had filled her at his return withered under that intense scrutiny. No greeting. No inquiry after her well-being. Just questions, sharp as the blade at his hip.
“My ladies attended me this morning. The kitchen boy brought lunch.” She took a step towards him, searching his face for any trace of the concern she’d glimpsed earlier. “Ulric, what’s happened?”
“Your guards. Who were they?”
“Dorn and Eryk, as usual.” Her voice cooled to match his. “You’re frightening me. What’s wrong?”
He ignored her question, moving to examine her balcony doors, testing the latch. “These remain locked at night?”
“Yes, of course. As you ordered.” She crossed her arms defensively. Each question felt like an accusation, as though she had somehow invited danger through carelessness. “Now tell me what’s going on.”
For a moment she thought he’d refuse, but he finally turned to face her.
“There is a threat against you. More specific than before.”
Her pulse quickened. “What kind of threat? From whom?”
“Unknown. But credible.” His voice was flat and emotionless, despite the anger still burning in his eyes. “Your security will be increased, effective immediately. No more unaccompanied movement through the stronghold. No visitors without prior approval.”
The walls of her chambers seemed to contract around her. She straightened her spine, lifting her chin. “I am not your prisoner.”
“No. You are my queen. And queens have enemies.”
“As do kings,” she snapped, her usual composure slipping. “Yet I don’t see you restricting your movements.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “That’s different.”
“How? Because you’re stronger? Because you’re a male? Because you’re an orc?” The words spilled out, sharp with frustration. “Or because I’m just a fragile human who needs to be locked away for her own good?”
“Because you were nearly killed once already under my protection,” he growled, the words raw and jagged as his mask slipped again. “Because I will not—cannot—let that happen again.”
The echo of genuine fear in his voice made her hesitate. She took a step toward him, softening slightly.
