Page 67 of The Orc's Captive Bride
“Vorlag will remain with you.”
“Of course.”
“Don’t leave the library until I return.”
“I won’t.”
He held her gaze for a long moment, and something flickered in those golden eyes too fast for her to identify. Then he turned and left, the door closing behind him with a heavy thud. She stared at it, her chest tight.
He’s trusting me enough to leave me alone with Vorlag.
Believing that the world wouldn’t collapse if he let his control slip for one moment was a small step towards progress.
“He cares for you.”
Vorlag’s quiet observation made her jump.
“What?”
“Khorrek.” The old priest smiled gently. “He cares for you. More than he knows how to handle, I suspect.”
Her face heated. “I don’t—we’re not?—”
“You don’t need to explain.” Vorlag closed the book in front of him. “And I’m not judging. I’m simply observing that he is… different when he looks at you.”
“Different how?”
“He is himself, not the weapon the High King created.”
The words hung in the air between them, and her hands stilled on the page in front of her.
“Vorlag… what do you know about Khorrek’s past?”
“Enough.”
“They broke him.”
“They trained him. That’s what they called it.” Vorlag’s voice carried an unusual edge of bitterness. “Just as they trained all the others. Systematically destroying any sense of self or autonomy until only obedience remained.”
“And you did nothing?”
“I did what I could. Small kindnesses. A kind word here. A moment of compassion there.” He met her eyes. “But the Veilborn serve the throne, Dr. Monroe. We have always served the throne. For hundreds of years, we have supported the High King’s rule, offered our counsel and our blessing.”
“Even when the High King is a monster?”
“Even then. Because we believed—I believed—that the institution mattered more than the individual. That stability and order justified any cost.”
“And now?”
Vorlag was quiet for a long moment.
“Now I am old enough to recognize that what should have been strength has become brutality. What should have been knowledge used for the common good is now hoarded for personal power.”
“Tell me about the Beast Curse,” she said quietly. “Not the official history. The truth.”
“What makes you think there’s a difference?”
“Because Lasseran wants me to decode this text—which means it contains something he doesn’t already know. Something that threatens him.” She gestured to the scrolls around them. “Thesearen’t just historical records. They’re proof of something that’s been deliberately hidden.”
