Page 58 of The Brute and the Blade

I let my gaze travel the room, taking in the array of astonished faces, of gaping mouths. "And when I emerge victorious...you will honor the oaths of peace sworn in this hall. You will set aside your grievances, and join us in crafting a new world from the ruins of the old."

A beat of silence...and then the ogre delegation erupts, a cacophony of cheers and howls, disbelief and derision. The humans surge to their feet, some decrying the barbarity of it all, others bellowing their vows to stand behind me, their champion.

Through it all, I stand tall and unbowed, letting their doubt and their fervor break around me like water on rock. Knowing, to the very marrow of my bones, that this is my purpose, my calling.

To be the bridge between worlds, the emissary of an ideal worth fighting for, worth bleeding for. The harbinger of a new age birthed by the bond between a woman and her warlord.

Between a human...and her ogre mate.

23

Lily

The three days that follow are a blur of bruises, of sweat and a singular, searing focus. From dawn to dusk, Grok and I sequester ourselves in the training yard, putting me through the most punishing training of my life.

He is a exacting taskmaster, pushing me to the very limits of my endurance and ability. We spar for hours, clashing and defending, him calling out instructions and observations even as he presses his ruthless advance.

"Keep your guard up," he barks, his practice blade whipping towards my head in a whistling arc. "And watch your footing, always. Krag will try to use his size against you, to overbalance you. You must be quick and clever. Fast and light as a dragonfly on a pond."

I arch a brow even as I dance away from his strike, bringing my own weapon up in a ringing parry. "I thought I was meant to be a lily," I quip breathlessly, darting inside his reach to land a scoring tap on his side. "Make up your mind, my love."

He growls playfully, amber eyes glinting with proud approval even as he redoubles his attacks. "You are a menace," he informs me, punctuating each word with the thud and clatter of wood on wood. "A vexing menace who will be the death of me."

I grin fiercely as I spin away, dropping low to sweep his legs and send him stumbling. "Only a little death, I hope," I tease, pressing my advantage with a flurry of blows. "I still have uses for you, beyond the battlefield."

His answering laugh is a low, wicked thing, even as he regains his balance and begins to stalk me around the ring, a predator toying with his prey. "Is that so?" he purrs, his voice a silken rumble I can feel to the depths of my belly. "Perhaps you should show me these...uses, when we are through here. So I might better serve my queen's pleasure."

Heat floods me. With an effort, I wrench my focus back to the fight, to the dance of death that decides our fate. But a part of me remains attuned to him, vibrating with the promise, the potential, that pulses between us.

The promise of forever, hard-won and precious. Of a love forged in strife, in the midst of combat and the warmth of our hearts.

The love I will fight for, die for, with every fiber of my being. Every breath in my body.

Until the very last.

The day of the duel dawns bright and baleful, the sky a harsh blue above the castle walls. I rise from a restless slumber, my muscles singing with anticipation, my mind blessedly blank and calm.

Today is the day. The moment of truth. The gauntlet thrown before the feet of fate, daring it to dash our hopes...or deliver us to triumph.

Grok is already awake and armored beside me, a bulk of barely-leashed tension and tightly-reined terror. He helps me dress in grim, weighted silence, his hands straying as if to memorize me.

As I settle my helmet over my braided hair, he catches my chin in gentle, callused fingers. Tips my face up to his, his eyes loving and anguished all at once.

"Lily," he rasps, and the ragged emotion in that single word undoes me. I surge up on my toes, claiming his mouth in a fierce kiss. A silent vow, a voiceless promise.

I will win this. I will come back to you.

Now and always, beyond breath or bone...I am yours.

He crushes me to him, just for a moment. Just for a single, shattered heartbeat. Then, with a shuddering exhale...he sets me back. Firms his jaw and squares his shoulders, stepping back into the skin of the warlord. The leader, stoic and stalwart.

"Come," he says quietly. "It's time."

Hand in hand, we descend to the great hall, to the churning sea of faces—human and ogre, hopeful and hostile. They part before us like water, a rippling wave of whispers and speculation.

In the center of the hall, a ring has been laid out in colored sand, a circle of crimson and ochre. At its edge, the Master of Arms awaits with a stern expression on his face, prepared to step in should it come to that.

Krag is already waiting, a towering mass of bulging muscle and belligerent menace. He bares his teeth at me in a feral grin, flexing his fingers around the haft of his huge war-hammer.

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