Page 191 of The Orc's Captive Bride
Khorrek!Thea tried to scream, but the goddess’s control was absolute.
She watched, helpless, as Lasseran covered half the distance to the altar. Three steps away. Two. One.
Then Khorrek was there, moving with impossible speed despite his transformed state. In his clawed hand he held Lasseran’s fallen sword, its unnatural blue glow contrasting starkly with the gold and crimson light that bathed the balcony.
In one fluid motion, he drove the blade through Lasseran’s back.
Through his heart.
The High King of the Five Kingdoms stiffened, a soft exhalation escaping him. Not quite a word. Not quite a sigh.
He turned his head, meeting Khorrek’s eyes. Something like relief flickered in those pale depths.
Thea’s relief was short-lived.
Vorlag stepped forward from beside her, a ceremonial axe in his hands that hadn’t been there a moment before.
No,she thought, suddenly understanding what was about to happen.No, this isn’t necessary. He’s already dying.
But the goddess didn’t share her compunction.
“For balance,” Vorlag intoned. “For justice. For restoration.”
The axe fell in a gleaming arc.
She tried to close her eyes, but the goddess wouldn’t allow it.
She watched, horrified, as Lasseran’s head was severed cleanly from his body. Watched it roll across the stone balcony, coming to rest at the very edge, pale eyes staring sightlessly at the Blood Moon above.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
The moment Vorlag’s axe fell, something shifted inside Khorrek.
It wasn’t the sudden absence of a hated master—he’d already broken free of Lasseran’s chains days ago. No, this was something deeper, more fundamental. Like a locked door inside his chest had been kicked open, flooding him with cool, clean air.
His Beast stirred.
But it didn’t rage. Didn’t howl. Didn’t demand blood and violence and domination.
Instead, it settled. Calm. Content. Right in a way it had never been before.
Khorrek’s breath caught as understanding crashed over him. The corruption that had twisted the Beast Curse for centuries was gone. What had been a constant battle for control, a daily fight to keep the monster leashed, was simply… peace.
He flexed his clawed hands—still partially transformed from the fight—and watched the talons retract smoothly. No struggle. No mental wrestling match. Just a thought, and his body obeyed.
Freedom.
The word tasted foreign and sweet on his tongue.
Movement drew his attention back to Thea, still standing on the altar. The golden glow around her had dimmed but not vanished, casting her features in an otherworldly light. Her grey eyes stared forward, unnaturally serene, as though she were seeing something beyond the physical world.
Khorrek’s newfound peace evaporated, replaced by a spike of worry.
“Thea?”
She didn’t respond. Didn’t even blink.
Vorlag moved with surprising efficiency for someone of his advanced years. He retrieved a long ceremonial staff from one of the attending priests—an ornate thing of dark wood and silver, topped with a wicked spike.
