Page 195 of The Orc's Captive Bride
She sagged against him, her legs refusing to hold her weight, her mind spinning. The crowd’s cheering seemed to come from very far away, muffled as though she were underwater.
Queen. They made me queen. How did I become queen?
Her thoughts felt sluggish, disconnected. Everything since Lasseran’s death was a blur of golden light and divine presence and words she hadn’t chosen to speak.
What had she done?
“Breathe,” Khorrek said quietly, one hand splayed across her back, the other supporting her weight. “Just breathe.”
She tried to obey, dragging air into her lungs in shaky gasps. The world slowly came back into focus—the dais beneath her feet, the crowd stretching out before them, Vorlag standing nearby with Lasseran’s head still impaled on that ceremonial staff.
Oh gods. That actually happened. We actually killed him.
Her stomach lurched.
“Steady.” Khorrek’s grip tightened fractionally, not restraining—anchoring. “You’re all right.”
Was she? She honestly wasn’t sure.
Movement to her left made her turn her head. Two figures approached the dais, moving through the crowd with an ease that suggested both authority and respect.
Ulric and Jessamin.
She blinked, confusion momentarily overriding her panic. What were they doing here? They should be in Norhaven, defending the Fanged Gate against?—
Oh. Understanding clicked into place. There’s no reason to defend it anymore. Lasseran is dead and the threat is gone.
Ulric climbed the steps with Jessamin at his side, both of them looking travel-worn but remarkably composed considering the chaos of the past few hours. The massive orc king stopped a respectful distance away and inclined his head—not a bow, exactly, but an acknowledgment of equals.
“Queen Thea,” he said, his deep voice carrying easily across the now-quieting plaza. “Norhaven stands with you. We pledge our support to your reign and to the new alliance between our kingdoms.”
The crowd erupted in fresh cheers, but Thea barely heard them. She was too busy trying to process what Ulric had just said.
New alliance. Support. Reign.
Her reign. Because she was queen now.
I’m going to be sick.
Jessamin stepped forward, her small human form a stark contrast to Ulric’s massive presence, but her bearing no less regal. The blonde woman’s blue eyes were warm and knowing as she met Thea’s gaze.
“My father, the Priest King of Almohad, has also pledged his support,” Jessamin said clearly. “He believes the balance you’ve restored will bring peace to all the Five Kingdoms. Almohad will honor that.”
More cheering. Louder, if that was even possible.
Her head spun. Two kingdoms—two kings—had just publicly declared their support for her rule. For a reign she hadn’t asked for, hadn’t prepared for, didn’t even understand.
What am I supposed to say?
Before she could formulate any kind of response, another figure moved through the crowd. Golden skin caught the moonlight, white hair flowing loose, and Thea recognized Baralt even before he reached the dais.
The warrior of the People of the Plains climbed the steps with that same fluid grace she’d admired during their journey. He dropped to one knee, pressing his fist to his chest in what she instinctively knew was a gesture of deep respect.
“The People of the Plains also stand with you, Queen Thea,” he said, his accent musical. “You cleansed the Stone Circle. You freed the orcs. You restored the balance our people have guarded for generations. We are yours to call upon.”
The cheering this time shook the very stones of the plaza.
Three kingdoms. Three peoples. All declaring their loyalty to her.
