Page 84 of The Orc's Captive Bride
She wanted to argue and insist that he take care of himself, but exhaustion pulled at her.
Just a few hours. Then I’ll get back to work.
She closed her eyes, and he gently stroked her hair. Despite everything—the danger, the fear, the impossible task ahead—she felt safe. How was that possible? She was in a foreign world, threatened by a monster in human skin, and racing against a deadline that would end in death.
But wrapped in Khorrek’s arms, she felt safe.
I’m definitely in trouble, she thought, but she was smiling as sleep claimed her.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The training yard smelled like blood and iron.
Khorrek stood in the shadow of the east wall and watched two of his brothers spar. Their movements were precise. Brutal. Exactly as they’d been taught.
Weapons. That’s what Lasseran made us.
The thought came easier now, without the immediate, crushing weight of betrayal. Because betraying Lasseran wasn’t betrayal at all. It was survival.
He’d left Thea in the library an hour ago. She’d barely noticed his departure, too absorbed in the ancient text and the patterns she’d been mapping since dawn. Her excitement had been palpable. He was sure she was close to something—the question was if she’d find it in time. They only had one more day for her to provide Lasseran with answers.
His hand throbbed. The bandages Thea had wrapped around it last night were stained red. He’d hit the wall until bone showed through. He’d wanted to feel something other than the crushinghelplessness. It hadn’t worked. But being with her had changed everything.
The sparring match ended with one orc pinned, and the other standing over him with a practice blade at his throat. They reset, and went again.
He scanned the yard looking for Declar. Lasseran kept the orcs from his age group separated. He assigned them different duties and different missions to keep them from forming bonds that might threaten his control. It had worked. They exchanged the occasional nod of acknowledgment when they passed in the halls, but friendship? Trust?
Those were weaknesses Lasseran had beaten out of them years ago. Except it didn’t take, not completely. There was still something. A kinship born from shared suffering. From being the only ones who truly understood what they’d survived.
I’m betting everything on that kinship being stronger than thirty-five years of conditioning.
“Looking for someone?”
He turned to find Declar standing behind him. He was shorter than Khorrek but broader, built like a stone wall given life and malice. His tusks were filed to sharp points, and his armor bore fresh scars.
“I was looking for you,” he said.
“Figured. You’ve been lurking like a shadow for the past hour.” Declar’s eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”
“To talk.”
“We don’t talk. Lasseran doesn’t like it when we talk.”
“Lasseran isn’t here.”
“His eyes are everywhere.”
True enough. The palace had servants, guards, a hundred people who might report anything unusual—including orcs having actual conversations.
“Walk with me,” he said.
“Why would I do that?”
“Because I have information you need to hear.”
Declar studied him suspiciously. Good. That wariness kept him alive until now.
“Fine. But this better be worth it.”
