Page 5 of The Orc's Princess Bride
“Speak freely,” he said, though part of him dreaded what might come next.
She drew a deep breath, her breasts moving enticingly beneath the heavy silk of her gown, and met his gaze steadily. “I wish to learn to ride one of the warhorses.”
For a moment, he wasn’t certain he’d heard her correctly. “A warhorse,” he repeated. “You mean a Norhaven warhorse.”
“Yes.”
He shuddered at the thought of Jessamin’s small body atop one of the massive, powerful beasts bred for battle. Horses that stood nearly eighteen hands high, with hooves that could crush a man’s skull, temperaments as wild and unpredictable as the mountains themselves.
“No.” The word escaped before he could temper it. “Absolutely not.”
“No?” She arched a delicate eyebrow, her expression coolly unreadable. “May I ask why?”
“They’re dangerous,” he said bluntly. “Even fully trained warriors are thrown and injured. They’re bred for battle, not?—”
“Not for delicate southern princesses?” she finished.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Isn’t it?” The first crack appeared in her composure. “I am not asking to lead a charge into battle, my king. I am asking to learn a skill that would allow me to move freely in my new home.”
“There are other horses—smaller, gentler mounts that would suit you better.”
“And mark me instantly as an outsider,” she said. “As someone fragile and foreign who doesn’t belong.”
He had to admit that she wasn’t wrong. The sight of the queen on a southern palfrey would only reinforce the perception that she was something other—something separate from Norhaven and its people. She—and all of the Brides—had been greeted with great enthusiasm by a land so short of females, but enthusiasm did not necessarily equal respect.
“It’s too dangerous,” he insisted, but he didn’t sound as convinced as he’d like.
“Everything in Norhaven is dangerous,” she replied. “The mountains, the winters, the politics. If I am to be your queen in truth, not just in name, I cannot hide from danger. I must face it and master it.”
Again, she was not wrong. To deny her would be to declare, in the clearest possible terms, that he had no faith in her at all. Thathe saw her as nothing more than a political asset to be protected, not as a partner or a queen in her own right.
It would widen the chasm between them into an unbridgeable gulf and as much as he was determined to protect himself, he couldn’t stand the thought of more distance between them. His Beast snarled restlessly beneath the surface, urging him to claim her.
No.He couldn’t do that, but perhaps…
What if he taught her to ride? If she was determined to learn, who better to ensure her safety than him? He was the finest horseman in Norhaven, with a bond to his mount that even other orcs envied. If anyone could teach her safely, it was him.
The thought of the forced proximity sent a jolt through him—equal parts dread and desire. He would have to lift her onto the saddle, his hands spanning her small waist. He would have to ride behind her, her soft little body pressed against his, his arms around her to guide the reins, and her scent filling his head. His body immediately responded to the image and he knew it was madness. A trap he was setting for himself.
“Very well,” he found himself saying anyway. “I will teach you myself. Tomorrow, at dawn.”
Surprise flickered across her face, quickly replaced by wary hope. She had clearly expected more of a fight.
“You’re certain?” she asked.
“It’s a matter of security. I won’t entrust your safety to anyone else.”
The brief, radiant smile she gave him almost made him forget his doubts. “Thank you, my king. I will be ready at dawn.”
She turned to leave, her movements as graceful as always. At the door, she paused, glancing back over her shoulder.
“I won’t disappoint you,” she said quietly.
Then she was gone, leaving only the faint scent of wildflowers in her wake.
He stood motionless for a long moment, then he growled and slammed his fist against the wall again.
