Page 55 of The Orc's Captive Bride
One wrong word from her, and he’d do something stupid. Something that would get him killed. She couldn’t let that happen.
“With respect, Your Majesty.” She lifted her chin, forcing herself to meet those terrible eyes. “You yourself told me that I was the one who would find the key. That my particular expertise was essential to this task.”
Lasseran went very still.
“Are you quoting my own words back to me?”
“I’m reminding you why you brought me here. Because if it were easy—if anyone could do it—you wouldn’t have needed me at all.”
Silence.
The kind of silence that precedes storms.
Lasseran’s perfect facade cracked. Just for a moment. Just enough to show the monster underneath.
His hand was suddenly in front of her throat, not quite touching her but close enough she could feel the coldness emanating from it.
But she saw Khorrek start to move but she caught his eye.
Don’t. Please don’t.
If he interfered, Lasseran would take him away, punish him, possibly even kill him.
She couldn’t lose him.
Not for this.
He froze, and she braced herself for Lasseran’s hand to close around her neck. It didn’t. It only hovered there for a moment before he slowly lowered it.
His mask slipped back into place, terrifying in its sudden civility.
“You have courage, Dr. Monroe. I’ll grant you that.” His voice was almost admiring. Almost. “Foolish courage, perhaps. But courage nonetheless.”
She didn’t say anything. She didn’t trust her voice.
“However.” Lasseran stepped back, deliberately putting distance between them. “Courage does not translate pages. Bravery does not decode ancient texts. And your defiance—while entertaining—is not producing the results I require.”
“I need more time.”
“Then I shall give it to you. Three days.”
Her stomach dropped. “Your Majesty, that’s not?—”
“Three days,” Lasseran repeated. “To show me tangible progress. To prove you are worth the resources I’ve invested in you.”
“And if I can’t?—”
“If you cannot?” His smile returned, as bright and cold as winter sun on ice. “Then I will be forced to provide additional motivation.”
“What kind of motivation?” she whispered.
“Your maid is quite devoted to you from what I hear.” He examined his nails with feigned disinterest. “It would be a shame if something unfortunate were to happen to one so young.”
Ice flooded her veins.
“She’s innocent. She has nothing to do with?—”
“Precisely. Which makes her an excellent motivator, don’t you think?” Lasseran’s eyes gleamed. “Every day you fail to make progress, I will harm someone you care about. Starting with dear Mira. Then perhaps Master Vorlag. That elderly priest seems fond of you.”
