Page 8 of The Orc's Princess Bride
When she came back to herself, the horse had slowed to a gentle walk and his arms were wrapped tightly around her, holding her against his chest as if she were something precious. Part of her thought she should feel embarrassed, but she didn’t. She felt warm and safe and connected to him in a way she’d never been before.
“That’s enough for today,” he said finally, his voice rough. “You’ve done well for the first lesson.”
He guided Stormcloud back to their starting point, but made no move to dismount, to break the contact between them. For several heartbeats, they simply sat together, then he abruptly dismounted. He reached up to lift her down, his hands gentle. Then his thumb feathered lightly over the place where he’d bitten her, and his stern mask snapped back into place as he turned away.
“Will you be joining me for breakfast?” she asked carefully, not sure what to say. Perhaps she should apologize for her behavior, but she couldn’t bring herself to regret it.
“Not today. I have matters that need my attention.”
“Lunch perhaps?” She knew she sounded desperate, but she couldn’t help herself.
“I’m not certain.”
A cold fist clenched around her heart. Had she been wrong about the connection between them?
“Very well,” she said, her voice carefully even. “I’ll see you at dinner you’re holding for the wool merchants, then.”
He nodded once, still not looking at her, and walked off, leaving her standing alone in the misty courtyard with a heavy heart.
CHAPTER FIVE
Ulric stripped off his training leathers, flinging them onto the floor with more force than necessary. His skin buzzed with awareness, every nerve ending still alight from the proximity to Jessamin. Her scent—wildflowers and sunlight—lingered on his skin, a torturous reminder of what they had shared.
He paced his chambers like a caged animal. The memory of her body pressed against his, the way she had come apart so sweetly in his hands, was seared into his mind. He had let his guard down, allowed his desire for her to overpower his reason. He’d even lost control enough to bite her, his Beast desperate to claim her.
It was a mistake he could not afford to repeat. He couldn’t endure another “lesson” like that. Not if he wanted to maintain his control, his distance. Not if he wanted to keep her safe from the dangers of Norhaven.
From the dangers of his Beast.
He grabbed a quill and parchment and scrawled a quick message instructing Captain Grak, his stablemaster, to take over the lessons. He hated assigning the task to Grak, but it was necessary. Grak was stoic, professional, and utterly without the complication of desire. He would teach her well, and more importantly, safely.
He sealed the message and summoned a page, watching the boy scurry away with the parchment that would put proper distance between him and his queen once more.
“It’s for her own good,” he muttered to the empty room, but the words rang hollow even to his own ears.
The knock that came wasn’t the expected acknowledgment from the page, but the distinctive pattern used by Rook, his spymaster. His shoulders tensed.
“Enter.”
Rook slipped inside, his lean frame belying his lethal nature. The orc moved with the silent grace of a shadow, his mismatched eyes—one amber, one gray—taking in Ulric’s state with a single glance.
“My king,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. “We’ve intercepted something you need to see.”
Rook extended a folded parchment, the seal already broken. “A courier carrying this was caught trying to slip in through the western postern gate. When questioned, he claimed to be delivering grain reports.”
He unfolded the parchment, his eyes scanning the neat script. On the surface, it appeared to be exactly that—a detailed accounting of grain shipments from Almohad, with projectionsfor the coming season. But Rook wouldn’t have brought it to him if that were all.
“Read between the lines,” Rook suggested quietly.
He read it again, more carefully this time. The wording was clever, almost too clever. Certain phrases stood out:
…should Norhaven’s position remain unreasonable
…alternative arrangements with southern interests may prove necessary…
…while we value the current alliance, we must consider all avenues to ensure our people’s prosperity…
Cold realization spread through his chest. This wasn’t about grain at all. This was a veiled threat—a suggestion that Almohad was willing to negotiate with another power, almost certainly Lasseran, if Norhaven proved “unreasonable.”
