Page 47 of The Orc's Captive Bride
“You’re saying the orcs weren’t cursed at all?”
“I’m saying whoever wrote this didn’t think of it as a Curse.” Thea’s excitement built. “They thought of it as… as a gift. A warrior’s gift. The ability to channel rage into strength.”
“Then what went wrong?”
“Someone broke the balance.” She traced the symbols with her finger. “Something—or someone—drew on the power required for the transformation.”
“Thus creating the Curse.”
“Exactly.”
Vorlag sat back, his expression thoughtful. “If you’re right, then breaking the Curse wouldn’t be about removing the Beast. It would be about restoring the balance. Giving control back to the individual.”
‘Yes.” She hesitated. “And I believe what Lasseran is searching for is the way to take all that power and therefore remove any control from the individual.”
The thought horrified her.
“We should break for lunch,” Vorlag said after a moment. “Even scholars need to eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Nevertheless.” He gave her a stern look. “The mind cannot function without fuel. And you’ve been working for hours without pause.”
She blinked and looked around. The light had changed. Morning had become afternoon. She’d lost track of time entirely.
“I suppose you’re right.”
“I usually am. It’s one of the benefits of age.” Vorlag moved toward the door, then paused. “You have a remarkable gift, Dr. Monroe. Use it wisely.”
Then he was gone, leaving her alone with Khorrek and the weight of impossible knowledge.
She stood, stretching muscles gone stiff from hours of sitting. Her eyes ached, her fingers cramped, and she’d never felt more alive.
This is what I was made for.
The thought was immediately followed by another, more troubling one.
What if I was literally made for this? What if being pulled through the portal changed me? Gave me these abilities specifically so I could translate this text?
But who wanted her to translate it?
“You should eat.”
Khorrek’s voice startled her from her spiraling thoughts.
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve been working for six hours without food or water.”
Six hours. It had felt like minutes.
“I get focused when I’m working,” she said, trying to sound casual. “Time becomes… fluid.”
“You need to take better care of yourself.”
The concern in his voice was almost her undoing. Because it meant he did care, no matter how hard he tried to pretend otherwise.
“Like you’re taking care of yourself?” She couldn’t help the bite in her tone. “Standing there for six hours without moving? Without resting?”
