Page 203 of The Orc's Captive Bride
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, her thumb brushing across his skin, his arms secure around her waist.
Then she took a breath—the kind that signaled she was about to say something she’d been rehearsing—and he braced himself.
“I’ve been thinking,” she started, then immediately launched into what was clearly a prepared speech. “Historical precedent shows that many political problems arise from uncertainty about leadership succession. When there’s no clear heir, ambitious nobles start jockeying for position, forming factions, sometimes even attempting coups. The War of the Three Brothers in Almohad lasted fifteen years and devastated the kingdom specifically because King Arshan didn’t designate an heir before his death. And in Norhaven, the period known as the Breaking happened when?—”
“Thea.” He stopped her gently, recognizing the pattern. She always retreated into academic analysis when she was nervous about something. “What are you trying to say?”
She pushed her glasses up her nose and met his eyes.
“I want to have a baby.”
The words hung in the air between them and he went absolutely still, his mind blank with shock.
“Before people start thinking about succession crises or questioning the stability of the crown or—” She was babblingnow, words tumbling over each other. “I know it’s only been three months and there’s still so much to do and maybe it’s too soon but Jessamin’s letter made me think and the curse is broken so we can and historically speaking it would help solidify?—”
He kissed her.
Hard and hungry and desperate, pouring every ounce of the stunned joy surging through him into the contact.
A baby.
Their baby.
Impossible. Miraculous. Perfect.
She gave a surprised gasp against his mouth, then melted into him, her hands fisting in his tunic. He tangled one hand in her hair, the other tightening on her waist, pulling her flush against him.
When he finally pulled back—both of them breathing hard—her eyes were wide and dazed behind her slightly crooked glasses.
“Is that… is that a yes?” she asked, voice slightly breathless.
Instead of answering with words, Khorrek stood, lifting her with him. Her legs wrapped around his waist automatically, and he groaned at the contact.
“That’s an enthusiastic agreement to the idea,” he managed, already moving toward the door that connected her office to their private chambers. “A very enthusiastic agreement.”
“Oh.” Her smile was radiant. “Good. That’s… that’s very good.”
He shouldered through the door, crossed their sitting room in quick strides, and laid her on their bed with a care that contradicted the urgency thrumming through every muscle.
She looked up at him, auburn hair spread across the pillows, grey eyes bright with desire and joy and love, and something in his chest cracked open.
“I love you,” he said, the words rough. “My mate. My queen. I would give you anything. Everything. A child—children—” His voice caught. “Nothing would make me happier.”
Tears welled in her eyes, but she was smiling.
“I love you too. So much. Even when you’re being ridiculously overprotective and interrupting my work.”
He laughed, the sound transforming into a growl as she pulled him down to her.
“Let me show you,” he murmured against her throat, feeling her pulse jump beneath his lips, “exactly how enthusiastic I am about this idea.”
Her answer was lost in a gasp as his hands found the laces of her gown.
Outside, Kel’Vara settled into evening quiet. The city guard changed shifts. Merchants closed their shops. Families gathered for meals in homes that no longer cowered under a tyrant’s shadow.
And in the Obsidian Keep, in chambers that had once belonged to a queen who’d cared for her people, Khorrek and Thea loved each other with the fierce joy of those who’d survived impossible odds.
They’d walked through fire and blood and divine trials. They’d broken curses and toppled kings and reshaped the world.
