Page 67 of The Orc Outcast's Mate

She gave up for the moment but determined to ask Govek to lift her onto his shoulders later. She tucked herself into his side and wrapped her arm around his.

Govek let out a content huff that had her looking up at him again. His eyes focused on her face as he breathed, “Thank you.”

She blinked, tipped her head. “What for? For matching your pace? Cause I think you’re matching mine really. I’d have to run to keep up with your natural gait. I guess it would be a good way to get a workout in.” She popped her lips. “Though, I can think of much better ways to get a workout in.”

Govek’s eyes widened.

“Oh god.” She covered her face with her palm. “Why do you let me ramble on like this? You know I always end up saying things I regret.”

“I enjoy your rambles, Miranda,” he said, perhaps for the millionth time and it warmed her the same as always. “Especially the ones you regret.”

“Jerk,” she said, though she softened the blow with a stroke to his hand and he chuckled. “Oh, what’s that?”

Ahead, attached to the trunk, was an embroidered tapestry that spanned thirty feet both up and across. They were too close to the edge for her to get a good look.

Govek hesitated before pulling her away from the wall, into the crowd. The orcs that had been milling about gave him a wide berth and she tried to ignore their staring and concentrate on the incredible imagery before her.

It was of the Rove Tree. The trunk spiraling up in the center and arching over the top. The creators must have used the leaves to make thread because, just like the real thing, the canopy glittered and reflected the hall behind them.

Beneath were hundreds of orcs all performing various tasks. Those closest to the tree were mixing potions, meditating, growing plants, and filtering water into barrels from a bright blue stream that Miranda thought might actually be the spring Govek had taken her to.

“It is one segment from the Oracle of the Fades,” Govek said, resting a hand on her shoulder.

“Oracle of the Fades?”

“Yes. The Oracle depicts all that was, all that is, and all that should be. It was the last gift given before the Fades went into eternal sleep.”

“This is just one part?”

“The original work is said to be at the Sylph Tower on Mount Vythor. A place only traveled to by flight.”

“Flight? Do you guys have planes?”

Govek’s brow furrowed. “Like fields of grass?”

That answered that.

“How do you get to it? The Sylph Tower?”

“We don’t.”

Oh. Miranda turned back to the tapestry. “It’s really amazing.”

The orcs in the center were clearly of Rove Wood. They seemed regal, mindful. Their hands were clean and their actions were passive, but these only made up a small number. Perhaps ten percent of the whole. Most of the orcs were brawny. They ripped up trees, herded animals, and trudged in knee-deep mud to unblock rivers. One was tackling a wild cat, claws bared, teeth glittering, muscles bulging. Miranda was so struck with the comparison to the real life event, she didn’t notice that the orcs at the end of the table behind her were whispering loud enough to hear, until one of them cried out. “Rogeth, get back here.”

Miranda turned to look. They were all young, likely in their late teens or twenties. One was yanking his friend back down into his seat. She recognized Rogeth but none of the others. “Don’t be stupid.”

“But he’s?—”

“Vunek is right. It won’t work.”

“He’ll go into a rampage.”

“We have to be smart. There will be another time.”

“But what if we’re too late?”

Miranda looked between the still chattering orcs and Govek, trying to piece together what exactly was going on. Govek seemed set on completely ignoring them, but the more broken sentences Miranda made out, the more worried she got.

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