Page 122 of The Orc's Captive Bride
Thea shifted against him, still asleep despite the constant motion, the cold mountain air, the uncomfortable saddle, and every other discomfort she had to be experiencing.
She hadn’t complained. Not once.
She’d just kept working, studying the scrolls whenever they stopped and pushing herself past exhaustion because the alternative was failure.
His mate was magnificent.
Also completely insane for trusting him with her life.
The bond hummed between them, warm and steady. A constant reassurance that she was still there and still his. The mate bond wasn’t an invasion, it was an invitation. A connection freely given and freely accepted.
It terrified him because it made him feel vulnerable in ways that even torture hadn’t managed.
Because Thea could hurt him. Not physically—she was too small, too fragile for that—but in ways that mattered infinitely more. She could reject him, decide he wasn’t worth the risk, and he’d have to accept it. He would have to let her go rather than force her to stay.
She won’t leave. The bond proves it. She chose me.
But Lasseran had taught him that bonds could be severed. Nothing was permanent when magic was involved.
Stop it. Focus on the immediate problem rather than spiraling into catastrophic thinking.
The immediate problem being the small fact that they were approaching the most heavily defended border in the Five Kingdoms with absolutely no plan beyond “get past the armies and beg Ulric for help.”
It wasn’t his most brilliant strategy.
The Fanged Gate came into view as they crested the final rise before the plateau, ancient and imposing. Two towers of dark stone flanking a passage wide enough for three wagons abreast and carved to resemble the open mouth of some enormous beast. The Fanged Gate was the only way to bring an army through the mountains into Norhaven without spending months navigating treacherous passes single file.
And both sides of it were packed with soldiers.
He pulled Courage to a halt, and grimly assessed the scene below.
Lasseran’s forces to the east. Hundreds of humans in the black and silver of Velmora, their tents arranged in precise military formations. The siege equipment was visible even from this distance.
And to the east?—
Orcs. Hundreds of them. Huge warriors in heavy armor drilling beneath banners bearing the sigil of Norhaven—a mountain peak crowned with stars.
Ulric’s forces. The free orcs who’d managed to resist Lasseran’s corruption for generations.
The orcs Khorrek had been trained to see as savages, creatures who’d rejected civilization in favor of barbarism.
Lies. All of it lies.
He knew that now. He understood that everything Lasseran had taught him was designed to keep him compliant and separate him from the very people who might have helped him see the truth. But knowing it intellectually and facing it emotionally were different things.
These were his people, his true people, and he was approaching them as a traitor. One of Lasseran’s pet orcs—exactly the kind of creature they’d been fighting against for years.
They’ll kill me on sight. If I’m lucky.
Probably. But he’d face them anyway, because Thea needed safety and time. Because she needed protection from Lasseran’s hunters while she worked to unravel the curse. And if giving himself up bought her that time?—
It would be worth it. Her safety is worth any price I have to pay.
He studied the defenses around the Gate, looking for weaknesses, gaps, any way to slip past unnoticed. He found none.
Both sides were too well-organized and too vigilant. It was growing late in the day, but even approaching under cover of darkness would be suicide. Lasseran’s forces sent out constant patrols, and the orcs?—
Orcs had enhanced senses. They could smell an intruder from a mile away.
