Page 3 of The Orc's Princess Bride
“I understand your concern, but I cannot live in a cage, even a gilded one.”
Something flickered in his eyes—a shadow of recognition, almost pain. Then he stepped back, away from her, his expression closing like a fortress gate.
“These measures are temporary. Until the threat is neutralized.”
She felt herself retreating behind her own mask—the polite, accommodating princess her father had raised her to be. It was easier than showing how much his coldness wounded her.
“I have matters to attend to,” he said, already turning towards the door. “I will have Captain Dorn review the new security protocols with you.”
“As you wish, my king.” Her voice was perfectly modulated, empty of emotion.
He paused at the threshold, his broad back rigid. For a moment, she thought he might turn, might say something more. Instead, he squared his shoulders and left without another word.
Damn him. If she hadn’t been taught such perfect control she would have thrown a vase at the door as it closed behind him. Instead she sank into the window seat, pressing her fingertips against her temples.
To a certain extent she understood his fear. The memory of the poisoning was still fresh for both of them. In spite of the antidote, she sometimes thought she would have died if she hadn’t heard him calling her back. Or had he? She’d thought she’d heard him tell her he loved her too, but he’d never repeated the words and as soon as she was on the mend, he was back to his old self.
What hurt was not his concern, but his belief that he had to solve the problem by himself. That he didn’t value her input,or trust her judgment. That he was determined to keep her at a distance. She had thought they’d been making progress. Now she wondered if she had imagined the whole thing. A sigh escaped as she remembered the brief flare of hope she’d felt watching his face in the courtyard.Foolish.
She might have the title of queen, but it meant nothing without his confidence in her.
A queen in name only, just like I’m a wife in name only, she thought bitterly. He had promised her father he would marry her as soon as she arrived and he’d kept his vow, escorting her directly from the ship to the former convent devoted to the Goddess Freja for the ceremony. The rest of the day had passed in a blur as she made sure the women who had accompanied her were settled before presiding over a long formal dinner—far more formal than she’d expected given Norhaven’s reputation as an uncivilized land.
Afterwards she’d been taken to her bedchamber where Makari, her chief attendant, had prepared her for her wedding night. Makari had been excited for her, chattering cheerfully about how big and powerful the king was, and how lucky Jessamin was, and how she hoped the king would give her a child that night. She’d tried to smile and nod, while her stomach churned with a mixture of apprehension and excitement.
Her father and her stepmother always treated each other with kindness and affection, but they had also taught her about political marriages and that a princess’s duty was to her family and her kingdom. She’d been taught what to expect from the physical side of marriage as well, although that had been when she was expected to marry a human man. Were orcs that different?
She hadn’t been able to bring herself to wait for him in bed and she’d been standing by the balcony doors when he entered, so huge and fierce that her heart pounded against her ribs. Despite her nerves, she also felt a shiver of awareness travel down her spine. She hadn’t expected to find the king of Norhaven attractive, but she couldn’t deny that she was drawn to him.
That burning gold gaze traveled down over her body beneath the thin lace nightgown and she felt her nipples harden in response. For a moment his eyes seemed to flash black, but then he took a step back, looking away from her.
“You are a beautiful female, Princess.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, her throat suddenly dry.
His gaze flicked back to her and she waited breathlessly for him to approach her. Instead he began pacing the room.
“I promised your father I would marry you immediately and I kept that vow. However, I realize we have not had a chance to get to know one another. I propose that we wait to consummate our marriage.”
Whatever she’d expected him to say, that had not been it.
“W…wait? For how long?”
“Perhaps until the Brides who accompanied you have been claimed?”
Admittedly part of her had been relieved, but another part of her had been secretly disappointed. Political alliance or not, she’d expected to share his bed. Since a proper princess would never demand such a thing, she’d simply agreed to his proposition. However, three months had passed since then and she regrettedit more every day. Surely if they were sleeping together he would see her as more than some helpless little female?
She sighed and wandered out onto her balcony. The landscape before her was wild, untamed—a stark contrast to the manicured gardens of Almohad. Rugged peaks thrust toward the sky, their snow-capped summits tinged pink in the fading light. Dense evergreen forests carpeted the lower slopes, dark and mysterious.
Norhaven was not gentle. It was not safe. It demanded strength from those who would call it home.
She had tried to be what she thought Ulric wanted—a gracious, accommodating southern princess who brought the polish of the Almohadi court to his wild kingdom. But perhaps that was precisely the problem. In trying to be what she imagined he wanted, she had allowed herself to become exactly what he feared—something delicate that needed protection.
A solitary rider emerged from the tree line below, an orc warrior returning from patrol. The massive warhorse moved with surprising grace despite its size, responding to the slightest pressure from its rider’s knees. Horse and rider moved as one, a perfect partnership of trust and respect.
Something stirred in her mind. A memory of her first weeks in Norhaven, watching from this same balcony as the warriors trained their mounts in the yard below. She had been both terrified and fascinated by the massive beasts—so different from the elegant, slender-legged horses of Almohad.
“Those aren’t horses,” her lady-in-waiting had whispered, horrified. “They’re monsters.”
