Page 202 of The Orc's Captive Bride
She’d never asked directly—just looked at him with those clear grey eyes and quietly thanked him for keeping the city safe. She would rule with wisdom and compassion, but he would handle the shadows.
“There’s news from the Old Kingdom,” she said, shifting slightly to look up at him. “A diplomatic mission is coming. They should arrive within the week.”
The Old Kingdom. The smallest and oldest of the Five Kingdoms, it had been firmly in Lasseran’s control for years. The previous king had been little more than a puppet dancing on the High King’s strings.
“King Aldric died a month ago,” she added. “Apparently the old king was in Lasseran’s clutches, but his son Torven has taken the throne. He’s young, reportedly ambitious, and very interested in establishing friendly relations with Velmora’s new leadership.”
“Friendly relations,” he repeated flatly. “Or reconnaissance to assess our vulnerabilities?”
She smiled, but it wasn’t a naive expression.
“Probably both, which is why I’m telling you now. Security for the visit will be your domain.”
He relaxed fractionally. She wasn’t being careless, or assuming good intentions just because someone used diplomatic language.
Good.
“I’ll assign teams to cover all approaches to the Keep,” he said, already mentally cataloging which of his orcs were best suited for close protection versus perimeter security. “Declar can handle the advance security assessment, and I’ll want Grask coordinating with the city guard?—”
“Khorrek.”
He stopped mid-planning, looking down at her.
“I trust you,” she said simply. “Handle it however you think best. I just wanted you to know it was happening.”
The casual confidence in her voice—the absolute faith that he would protect her, protect the city, and protect everything they’d built together—made his chest tight.
He pulled her closer, burying his face in her hair and breathing in her sweetness.
“What else?” he asked, because he could feel tension in her shoulders. She was working up to something.
“There’s other news. Good news, actually.” She twisted in his lap to face him more fully, and he saw genuine happiness in her expression. “Jessamin wrote. She’s pregnant.”
Joy surged through him, fierce and immediate.
“Ulric—”
“Is apparently unbearable,” she said with a laugh. “According to Jessamin, he’s treating her like she’s made of glass and driving her completely insane. But she sounded happy. Really happy.”
A child. The orc king will have an heir.
It should have been impossible. The curse had stolen the orcs’ fertility for generations, leaving them slowly dying out, but she had restored the balance and broken the curse that Lasseran’s ancestors had corrupted.
“There’s more,” she continued, her smile widening. “Many of the females in Norhaven are pregnant. Both the ones born there and the ones brought back by orc warriors now that they’re free to leave and find mates. The healers say it’s like something that was broken has suddenly been fixed. The curse—it really is gone, Khorrek. Completely.”
He couldn’t speak, couldn’t find words for the tangle of emotions that crashed through him. Not only relief, but vindication for every choice he’d made, every bridge he’d burned. His people—his people, not Lasseran’s enslaved warriors but the free orcs of Norhaven—would survive. They would have a future that extended beyond a single generation.
All because of the small human woman currently perched on his lap, looking at him affectionately.
“You did that,” he said finally. “You saved them.”
“We did that,” she corrected gently. “You brought me the records and helped me decipher them. You walked into the Stone Circle when you thought it might kill you?—”
“I would do it again.” The words came out more intense than he’d intended. “A thousand times over. For you. For all of them.”
She touched his face, her small hand cupping his scarred cheek.
“I know.”
