Page 39 of The Orc's Princess Bride
Twenty minutes. The unease crystallized into something sharper.
He stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the stone floor. This was foolish. She was likely braiding her hair or speaking with a handmaiden. Yet the prickle at the back of his neck—the same warning sense that had saved his life countless times in battle—would not be silenced.
He strode through the corridors, his pace quickening with each step. When he reached her chambers, no one answered his knock.
“Jessamin?”
He hesitated, but his sense of unease was growing and he entered her rooms. They were all empty. Nothing seemed disturbed, yet the lack of her presence was like a physical ache.
“Guards!” he yelled, his voice echoing down the corridor. Two warriors appeared instantly, alert at his tone. “Find the queen. Now. Put every available person on the search.”
The fortress erupted into controlled chaos. Guards searched every room, every corridor, every courtyard. He stalked the halls like a caged predator, his face a mask of stone that hid the growing dread in his heart.
He was pacing outside his study when Rook came towards him with swift, silent steps. “My king, Lady Elspeth is also missing.”
He went still, the implications hitting him like a blow to the gut.
“Tell me,” he said.
“We’ve searched everywhere. There’s no trace of her in the dungeon or any of the surrounding areas.”
“Where are the guards who were watching her?” he asked, his voice deceptively calm.
Rook’s jaw clenched. “Found unconscious in the eastern passage. They remember nothing.”
A cold weight settled in his stomach. “Continue the search. Leave no stone unturned.”
He’d promised Jessamin that her uncle would never touch her. That he would protect her from all harm. And in the very hour of their reconciliation, he’d failed her.
The thought of that monster’s hands on her delicate skin, of him stealing her from their home…
He slammed his fist into the wall, barely noticing the pain. Rage boiled inside him, a seething, living thing. His Beast, always so close to the surface, clawed at his control, demanding freedom.
The minutes stretched into an hour. Reports filtered in—no sign of the queen in the kitchens, the stables, the gardens. “My king!” A young guard ran up, breathing hard. “We found something at the western postern gate.”
The guard extended his hand. In his palm lay a single black gauntlet, ornately crafted with silver inlay. Ulric recognized it instantly—the distinctive armor of Lasseran’s elite guard.
The truth crashed down upon him with crushing force. Jessamin was gone. Taken. By Lasseran.
The joy of the morning, the intimacy they had shared, the future he had finally allowed himself to imagine—it all made the current horror a thousand times worse. He had held her in his arms, tasted her skin, promised her safety. And now she was in the hands of a monster.
For one terrible moment, he couldn’t breathe. Then something shifted inside him. The shock and grief ignited, transforming into a silent, white-hot rage that filled every corner of his being.
When he spoke, his voice was unnaturally calm, devoid of all emotion. “Summon my war council. Immediately.”
Warriors and advisors gathered in the strategy room, their faces grim. Maps were spread across the table, reports delivered in clipped, urgent tones. Plans for a full-scale military response were proposed—armies mobilized, alliances called upon, siege engines prepared—plans that would take days, if not weeks to organize.
He listened in silence, his eyes fixed on the map of Kel’Vara. When the last advisor finished speaking, he straightened.
“Leave me,” he commanded.
As soon as they were gone, he used the hidden passage behind the wall to return to his chambers. He pulled out an old leather pack and began loading it with weapons and trail rations. Someone knocked on the door but he ignored it. No one knew he was in here and by the time they realized, he would be gone.
His enhanced hearing caught a faint scratching at the door and he whirled around just as the door opened and Wulf steppedinside, closing the door behind him. Wulf’s gaze traveled from the almost full pack to his face.
“May I ask what you’re doing, Your Majesty?”
“I’m going after her,” he said, turning back to his packing. “Now.”
