Page 120 of The Orc's Captive Bride
No complaining. He needs to know I can do this.
The bond carried her determination, and she felt his responding surge of pride and approval.
Good. Let him see I’m not fragile.
They traveled in silence because speaking felt dangerous, as if they might draw attention to themselves.
The forest gradually thinned and gave way to rocky coastal terrain. The ocean spread out to their left, an endless expanse of blue-grey water dotted with white caps.
She’d always loved the ocean from a safe distance—studying maritime cultures, translating ship logs, and analyzing trade routes.
Being this close to it—close enough to smell the salt and hear the crash of waves—was different. It made her feel small. Insignificant. A reminder that she was one person trying to stop a tyrant.
What chance do I have?
Khorrek squeezed her hand.
Right. I’m not alone. I’ll never alone again.
They kept moving as the sun sank lower, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.
Her stomach growled loudly and insistently and he glanced down at her.
Khorrek glanced at her. “When did you last eat?”
“When you brought me food in the library.”
His jaw tightened. “We’ll find food in the village.”
“Will they help us?”
“They won’t know who we are. We’ll be just another pair of travelers.”
“Unless Lasseran’s hunters have already spread word.”
“Then we’ll deal with it.” He pulled her closer. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“I know.
The village appeared as twilight descended around them. A cluster of weathered buildings clung to the rocky shore and fishing boats lined the small harbor. Nets hung drying on wooden racks, and the air smelled of salt and smoke and fish.
It looked so peaceful, that she wanted to collapse in relief.
Khorrek pulled his hood lower, hiding his face and his tusks. “Stay close. Let me do the talking.”
She nodded and followed him towards what looked like a tavern. Warm light spilled from the windows along with the sound of conversation and laughter. It was all so normal.
As if the world isn’t ending.
They slipped inside and found a corner table in a shadowy corner. A middle-aged woman with a weathered face and kind eyes came over and gave them a cheerful smile. “What can I get you?”
“Food. Whatever’s available.” Khorrek’s voice was deliberately harsh, discouraging conversation, and the woman’s eyes narrowed slightly as she assessed them.
She held her breath, but after an interminable pause, the woman simply nodded. “Stew. Bread. Ale.”
“Fine.”
The woman left and returned minutes later with two bowls of something that smelled like heaven, alone with a loaf of brown bread. She wanted to fall on it like a starving wolf but she forced herself to eat slowly and carefully so as not to draw attention.
