Page 149 of The Orc's Captive Bride
She wanted to argue and insist that he rest, but exhaustion was pulling at her. And she trusted him completely.
He’ll keep me safe. Always.
She drifted off with his arms around her, his heartbeat steady beneath her ear, and dreamed of ancient ceremonies. The Old Gods were moving, and she was ready.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Khorrek’s Beast stirred restlessly as they emerged from the narrow mountain pass.
Two days of hard riding. Two days pushing the horses to their limits while keeping watch for Lasseran’s patrols. And now finally—finally—they’d reached the plains.
The plains spread before them like an ocean of grass, golden in the afternoon light. The stone circle was still three days ahead. Maybe less if they didn’t encounter resistance.
So of course we’re about to encounter resistance.
Because the horizon had just sprouted riders.
His hand automatically went to his blade, years of training overriding conscious thought. Beside him, Egon had already drawn steel. The scarred orc’s amber eyes were black, his beast close to the surface.
“How many?” he growled.
“Fifteen. Maybe twenty.” Khorrek studied the approaching group. Fast horses. Organized formation. Disciplined. “Not Lasseran’s men.”
“No. The People of the Plains.”
Khorrek had heard stories. Everyone had. The nomadic tribes who roamed the grasslands between the Five Kingdoms. Who owed allegiance to no king. Who moved like ghosts through territory that should have been impossible to cross. Who were supposed to avoid outsiders.
So why are they riding straight toward us?
“Should we run?” Lyric asked as calmly as if she were asking about the weather.
“No,” Thea said thoughtfully. “I don’t think they mean harm to us.”
“You don’t think?” He kept his eyes on the riders as they drew closer. “What makes you so certain?”
“I’m not certain. I just… feel it.”
He wanted to argue, wanted to grab Thea and get her to safety, but he was learning to trust her instincts. Those strange certainties that came from nowhere.
The Old Gods were guiding her. Or so she believed.
The riders slowed as they approached, expertly handling their horses without reins or stirrups. Warriors, all of them. And they were nothing like Khorrek had imagined.
Golden skin. So pale it almost glowed in the sunlight. Hair the color of fresh snow, flowing long and free. Pointed ears. High cheekbones.
Like elves from ancient stories, beautiful and deadly.
The leader dismounted in a single fluid movement. He was tall, lean rather than wide, and his silver eyes held an unsettling intelligence. When he smiled, Khorrek saw the fangs.
“Peace, warriors,” the leader said in a melodious voice. “We mean you no harm.”
“Forgive us if we’re cautious,” Egon said, his voice dangerous. “We weren’t expecting company.”
“No. But we were expecting you.” The leader’s silver eyes shifted to Thea. “The one who walks between worlds. The vessel of ancient knowledge.”
His Beast surged protectively. How did he know about Thea?
“Who are you?” Thea asked calmly.
