Page 34 of The Orc's Captive Bride
Despite everything—the terror still coursing through her veins and the threat hanging over her head like an executioner’s blade—a laugh bubbled up.
“That’s… probably accurate.”
Something shifted in his expression.
“He will test you,” he said. “He will try to break you.”
“I got that impression.”
“Can you do what he asks? Translate the text?”
She wanted to say yes, wanted to project the academic brilliance that had earned her her first doctorate by age twenty-two, but lying to Khorrek felt wrong.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Without knowing the language family, without comparative texts or even knowing what alphabet or writing system they used…” She shook her head. “It could take months. Years. And that’s assuming it’s even possible.”
He studied her face for a long moment.
“You will succeed,” he said quietly.
It should have sounded like a threat, but instead it sounded like… faith.
“How can you possibly know that?”
“Because you must.” He held her gaze. “And because you are brilliant and stubborn and too curious to give up.”
Warmth filled her, pushing back some of the cold terror Lasseran had left behind.
“That’s possibly the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” she said.
“It is the truth.”
“Truth and nice aren’t mutually exclusive.”
“In my experience, they usually are.”
That sad, bitter edge to his voice made her want to reach out and touch him, but she didn’t know if he’d welcome it. She didn’t know the rules in this strange world where magic was real and High Kings wore beautiful masks over empty souls.
Instead she straightened her shoulders and pushed her glasses up one more time.
“All right,” she said. “If I’m going to do this impossible thing, I want to get started.”
“Now?” His eyebrows rose. “It’s late. You should rest.”
“Rest while I’m imagining all the horrible ways Lasseran might kill me if I fail? No thanks.” She managed a shaky smile. “I’d rather have something productive to focus on. Unless you need to sleep?”
He shook his head. “I will accompany you to the library.”
“Then let’s go.”
She started toward the door, then paused and turned back.
He was watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite read. Something between admiration and concern and a deeper emotion she didn’t have the bandwidth to analyze right then.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For… being here. It helps.”
His jaw tightened. “I am your guard, by the High King’s orders.”
“Right. Orders.” She studied his face. “But you gave me your tunic when I was cold. You taught me your language. You protected me from that man. Those felt like choices, not orders.”
