Page 167 of The Orc's Captive Bride
“When do we go?” she asked instead.
Lyric glanced at the horizon. It was still dark, but the faintest hint of grey touched the eastern sky.
“Soon. Before the others wake. Before he realizes what you’re doing.”
“He’ll try to stop me.”
“He’ll fail. The enchantment will hold until sunrise,” Jaella said quietly. “But you should say goodbye. In your heart, if not in words.”
She looked back at the tent where Khorrek slept.
Goodbye. How did you say goodbye to someone who’s become your entire world?
She wanted to run back, to curl against his warmth one more time, and to memorize the feel of his arms around her.
But she couldn’t.
If I go back now, I’ll never leave. I’ll choose my happiness over his future. Over all their futures.
Instead she closed her eyes and reached for the comforting warmth of the mate bond. It thrummed between them, a living connection that transcended distance and time.
I love you. More than words can express. More than I ever thought possible.
She poured everything into that feeling, every ounce of fierce, protective love.
You changed my life. Gave me purpose. Showed me what it means to truly live.
Tears tracked down her cheeks, silent and unstoppable.
I’m sorry I couldn’t be honest. Couldn’t tell you the truth. But I know you would have tried to take my place. And I can’t allow that.
She drew a shaky breath.
You deserve a future, Khorrek. A real future, free from Lasseran’s manipulation, free to choose your own path.
The bond pulsed, warm and comforting, as if he heard her, felt her.
I hope you can forgive me. I hope you understand. I hope you live a long, beautiful life surrounded by people who see you for who you truly are.
She opened her eyes and found Lyric watching her sympathetically.
“Ready?”
“No. But I’m going anyway.”
“That’s the spirit.” Lyric stood and offered her hand.
She accepted it and let herself be pulled to her feet. Her legs felt weak, unsteady, but she forced herself to move. To walk towards the Stone Circle.
Lyric and Jaella flanked her, offering silent support.
The mist thickened as they walked, curling around their ankles and rising like ghostly fingers. Magic. Old power stirring.
Her academic mind catalogued the phenomenon even as her heart raced with fear.
Atmospheric conditions didn’t explain it. The temperature and humidity were wrong. It was something else entirely. Something beyond scientific explanation.
The Stone Circle loomed ahead, the massive monoliths rising from the grassland. She’d studied them for hours yesterday, traced every rune and memorized every symbol. But seeing them now—in the pre-dawn darkness, wreathed in mist and magic—they seemed different.
