Page 137 of The Orc's Captive Bride
“So? Magic doesn’t care about sleeping schedules.”
He sighed but stood up and started pulling on his own clothing. “You’re going to be the death of me, little scholar.”
“Probably.” She grinned at him. “But what a way to go.”
Another almost-laugh, quickly suppressed, but she’d heard it. Felt it.
Good. He deserved all the happiness he could get. She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the tent entrance.
Outside, the camp was quieter. Most of the warriors had bedded down. Only a few sentries remained on patrol.
She ignored the surprised looks and the raised eyebrows. She had a theory to test. A ritual to plan. And a world to save.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Dawn broke cold over the mountains.
Khorrek stood at the edge of camp, watching light bleed across the horizon, pink and gold against grey stone. It was beautiful in a way that reminded him of Thea—soft on the surface and strong underneath.
His mate was finally sleeping after dragging him across camp in the middle of the night to wake Lyric and spend three hours discussing magical theory he barely understood. She’d talked about convergence points and ley lines and lunar alignments, her eyes bright with discovery and her hands moving through the air as she explained patterns only she could see.
Brilliant. Fearless.Mine.
The possessiveness still surprised him. He’d been taught that wanting things was a weakness. That the only thing that mattered was obedience.
He wanted Thea fiercely and desperately, but it didn’t feel like weakness. It felt like strength.
“You’re up early.”
He turned and found Egon approaching. The big scarred warrior moved with quiet confidence. No wasted motion. A fighter’s economy.
“Couldn’t sleep.”
Egon nodded, but didn’t press. “Ulric wants the northern approach checked. Do you want to come?”
He considered for a moment. He didn’t want to leave Thea unguarded, but she was safe here surrounded by Ulric’s warriors. And she’d be angry if she woke to find me hovering over her like she couldn’t take care of herself. His little mate had strong opinions about her independence.
“I’d like that.”
They moved out together, silently at first—two warriors who understood the value of quiet.
The northern approach was difficult terrain. A good defensive position but hard to navigate in the dark which made it a perfect place for an ambush. He scanned the landscape looking for signs of disturbance or anything out of place. Nothing.
They climbed higher, the camp falling away behind them.
“Your mate is very impressive,” Egon said. He gave him a wary glance, but Egon’s expression held no mockery.
“She is.”
“Lyric says she’s brilliant and that her understanding of the old texts is extraordinary.”
“She picks up languages like breathing, and sees patterns where others see chaos.”
“A useful skill.” Egon paused at a rocky outcrop to study the view. “Especially now.”
“She’ll figure out how to reverse the curse. I’m certain of it.”
“You sound proud of her.”
