Page 25 of The Orc's Stolen Bride

"I believe Kari has accepted the fact that she is my mate," he said triumphantly, his voice low enough that only Egon could hear. The words felt right as they left his lips, a confirmation of the profound connection he'd felt with Kari since the moment she appeared by the lake.

Egon smiled and clasped his shoulder.

"I am happy for you - for both of you. You deserve happiness," he said sincerely.

He started to return his brother's smile, then saw the flicker of longing in his eyes. It was a familiar look, one that he’d had seen countless times over the years.His elation dimmed as he remembered his brother's struggles. Egon had always been a pillar of strength for their clan, but his fearsome appearance often overshadowed his gentle nature. Wulf knew how deeply Egon yearned for a mate of his own, someone who could see past his scars to the loyal and caring orc beneath.

Wulf opened his mouth, wanting to offer some words of comfort or hope to his brother, but he hesitated. What could he say that he hadn't already said a hundred times before? Instead, he simply nodded, hoping his understanding showed in his eyes.

"I hope Kari's arrival means more than just my happiness," he said quietly, his voice barely audible above the sounds of training warriors. "That Wold will help all of us find mates."

Egon shook his head, a rare flash of vulnerability crossing his scarred face.

"I don't believe there is a bride in my future. I am not a suitable mate."

He struggled to find the right words to comfort Egon. He knew his brother's worth, his strength, his loyalty. But he also knew the deep-seated insecurity that plagued Egon, born from years of isolation and the harsh judgments of others. The stark contrast between his own newfound happiness and Egon's continued loneliness weighed heavily on him as he went about his daily duties. The euphoria of his night with Kari began to fade, replaced by a gnawing sense of responsibility. He watched his warriors train, their movements fluid and powerful, yet he couldn't shake the knowledge that without mates, without children, their strength would eventually wane.

I can't forget the others. I can't rest while my people suffer.

The guilt he'd pushed aside returned, marring his happiness. He thought of Egon's resigned acceptance of a lonely future, of the hopeful glances the other warriors cast towards Kari. Their expectations weighed on him, a burden he couldn't ignore.

When he joined Kari for dinner, she gave him a shy smile, her happiness evident in her eyes. Her pleasure delighted him, but he couldn't ignore his duty, After the meal ended he escorted her back to their rooms, the conflict within him reaching a crescendo.

"I... I need to check on something," he said, the lie tasting bitter on his tongue. "You go ahead. I'll join you later."

Confusion flickered across her face, but she nodded, leaving him alone with his thoughts. As soon as she was safely inside, he turned and strode away, guilt and determination warring within him.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Kari's hands moved mechanically, chopping vegetables alongside Merow in the communal kitchen attached to the great hall. The late afternoon light filtered through the windows, casting long shadows across the room as evening preparations began, but she barely noticed the hum of activity.

Her mind was elsewhere, focused on Wulf's recent behavior. He'd returned late that first night, pulling her into his arms as usual, but when she woke, he was gone again. The pattern had repeated for the past two nights, leaving her confused and uncertain.

"What troubles you, child?" Merow asked.

She hesitated, feeling heat rise to her cheeks.

"Wulf has been acting so distant since we..."

She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence, and Merow gave her a thoughtful look..

"He carries a lot on his shoulders - the weight of our people, their expectations. It makes him feel responsible, even for things beyond his control."

She frowned at the older woman.

"But why now? We were so close, and then suddenly..."

Merow sighed, setting down her knife.

"I suspect that the happiness he's found with you reminds him of what others don't have."

"You mean, because of the curse?" she asked quietly and Merow nodded.

"He feels guilty for his own joy while others suffer. It's not right, but it's who he is."

Her heart ached at the thought. She'd seen glimpses of the weight he carried, but she hadn't realized how deeply it affected him. The idea that he might deny himself joy because of it hadn't occurred to her. A wave of empathy washed over her, along with a hint of frustration.

"But he deserves to be happy too," she muttered, more to herself than to Merow. As do I, she added silently, surprised by the strength of her own feelings.

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