Page 38 of The Orc's Princess Bride
He hesitated, but before he could answer her, there was a sharp knock on the door. He immediately tensed, the stern mask replacing his relaxed expression.
“Enter,” he called.
The door opened to reveal Captain Grak, his weathered face grave. “Forgive the intrusion, Your Majesties. We’ve apprehended Lady Elspeth attempting to leave through the eastern postern gate. She carried this.”
He extended a sealed letter, and Ulric took it, his expression hardening as he read.
“What is it?” she asked.
“A report to Lasseran. Details of our reconciliation, of the security arrangements, of—” he paused, his jaw tightening, “—of our time in the sacred spring.”
Cold horror washed through her. “She was watching us?”
“She wasn’t in the grotto, but she was outside listening.” His voice was dangerously quiet. “She’s been taken to the cells. I’ll question her myself.”
“I want to be there,” she said firmly.
He studied her face, then nodded. “Very well. But first, finish your meal. You’ll need our strength.”
They ate quickly, the comfortable intimacy of earlier replaced by grim determination. As soon as they finished, he rose.
“I’ll wait in my study while you get dressed.” He hesitated for a moment. “Whatever we discover, remember this—what we have is real. Lasseran cannot touch what is between us.”
She reached up to touch his face, her palm against his cheek. “No, he cannot.”
He left and she dressed quickly, choosing a plain gown in Norhaven green. Rather than take the time for the more complicated orc-style braids, she pulled her hair back into a single loose braid, then studied her face in the mirror. Her face was paler than she would have liked, but she did her best to assume her usual calm expression. She didn’t want to give the woman who had posed as her friend the satisfaction of seeing her upset.
She hurried out into the corridor, surprised to find it unusually quiet. Perhaps Ulric had already gathered his guards?—
The tapestry on the wall behind her suddenly rippled. Before she had time to react, someone grabbed her and hauled her behind it, clamping a hand over her mouth to cut off her cry. An arm like iron wrapped around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides as a panel slid back into place behind the tapestry.
She struggled wildly, but her captor’s grip was unyielding. From the shadows emerged another figure—a lean orc with jagged tusks and a deep scar across his face.
“I am Khorrek,” he said with a mocking bow. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
“But… but you’re an orc,” she whispered as the hand over her mouth disappeared.
“Indeed. But I am not one of the wild orcs of Norhaven. I am a servant of High King Lasseran. Your uncle sends his regards, Princess.”
Terror flooded her veins, icy and paralyzing. The hope that had filled her heart that morning shattered into fragments of fear.
“Bring her,” Khorrek ordered the person holding her. “Lasseran will be very pleased by our success. Don’t bother screaming, Princess,” he added as her captor started dragging her along the narrow passage. “These walls are quite soundproof.”
She obeyed but as they hauled her away, her mind screamed a single name, a desperate prayer that somehow, he would hear:
Ulric!
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
As Ulric sat in his study waiting for Jessamin, a strange peace settled over him. For the first time since she had arrived in Norhaven, he felt truly whole. The weight that had pressed upon his chest for so long—the suspicion, the fear, the crushing responsibility—had lightened. Not vanished, but transformed into something bearable when shared with her.
He leaned back in his chair, allowing himself a rare moment of contentment. Their morning together had been… perfect. The stiff formality that had defined their interactions had melted away, replaced by something far more precious. When she’d smiled at him across the breakfast table, it wasn’t the cautious smile of a political bride. It was real—warm and intimate and meant only for him.
He traced the rim of his cup with one finger, still feeling the ghost of her touch from the sacred springs. The memory sent heat coursing through him. Soon, he promised himself. Soon they would complete what they had begun. He would knot inside her and finally claim her fully as his wife, his queen, his mate.
Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen. A flicker of unease disturbed his contentment.
Jessamin had said she would join him shortly. How long did it take a female to get dressed? He glanced at the door, then back to the reports before him, forcing himself to focus. She was the queen of Norhaven now, not a prisoner. She had every right to her privacy, her independence.
