Page 39 of Taken By the Fae King

I glance down at my sleep pants. “I must get dressed as well. I will meet you back here and then we will leave together.”

When I walk back to my room, Aren is already there waiting for me. “Double the guards accompanying us to the Great Hall,” I tell him. “And make sure the Orc is bound securely before he is brought before us.”

“Us?” Aren frowns.

“The queen wishes to be present during the interrogation.”

“You would bring her before an Orc?” He blinks several times. “They are dangerous. I—I do not think it wise to bring your A’lrya before such a creature.”

“She insists upon coming.” I clench my jaw. “I do not like it either, but I cannot deny her the right to be there.”

His gaze holds mine a moment, disbelief written across his features, before he finally dips his chin. “I will alert the guards.”

After he leaves, I dress and then return to Grayce’s room. She is dressed like one of my people. Wearing a green tunic dress and pants, along with a set of leather boots that I note seem to fit her well. Her silken hair is unbound and hangs down her back and shoulders in long chocolate waves.

She smiles as she walks toward me. “Aren found me some clothing.”

My gaze travels over her form, and it does something strange to me to see her dressed in the garb of my people. The rich fabric is a perfect complement to her lovely hazel eyes. Pride swells my chest. She truly looks like a queen of the Fae.

I offer her my arm, taking note that her dagger is tucked in her belt and within easy reach. She loops her arms through mine and we make our way to the Great Hall.

When we walk inside, several of my warriors stare at me as if I’ve lost my mind, bringing her here. And perhaps I have. Maybe I should have insisted she stay back in her room, where it is safe, but another part of me knows that if I had, she probably would not have forgiven me. Especially when I vowed to her that she would be my equal in all ways.

Guilt fills me. I have kept the secret of who I am from her—an unforgivable lie of omission. The least I can do is keep the promises I made when I asked her to marry me.

When we enter the Great Hall, there are at least two dozen warriors already waiting. Several more come in as Grayce and I each take a seat at the front of the room, on a raised dais while we wait for the guards to bring in the Orc.

The doors open and everyone falls silent as the Orc walks in, surrounded by four of my guards. He is tied in heavy chains that scrape along the floor with each step. Despite them, he holds his head tall and proud as he stalks toward us, glowering at each of my warriors as he passes.

He has two leather bands with various symbols etched into them wrapped around his massive, tattooed biceps. A beaded necklace hangs around his neck, and he is dressed in only a loincloth.

His people are formidable warriors, and although he is bound, everything inside me wants to demand that Grayce leave. That she return to our rooms, far away from this great hulking savage.

He stops in front of our thrones and his brow furrows deeply as his gaze darts briefly to Grayce and then back to me.

“My warriors said you were found wandering near the Great Wall,” I tell him. “Why were you there?”

His brown eyes are locked on mine as he clenches his jaw, refusing to speak.

Grayce leans forward in her chair. “From the markings on your arms, you are from Clan Urzal, is that correct?”

His head snaps to her as does mine and the rest of my warriors.

“I am,” he says, his voice deep and low.

“I am Queen Grayce of Anlora, and Princess of Florin. This is my mate, King Kyven.” She gestures to me, and his scowl deepens.

The Orc studies her with a piercing gaze but says nothing.

She stands from her chair, and as she starts to step off the dais, I shoot up from my seat. “Grayce!”

She stops abruptly, and two of our guards rush forward, placing themselves directly between her and the Orc, preventing her from stepping down to the floor.

Grayce looks at the Orc. “Give me your word, as a warrior, that you will not harm us if we release you.”

“My word?” Shock flickers briefly over his features, and his nostrils flare. “I can scent your fear, and yet… you would take my word?”

“My brother, King Edmynd, negotiated a treaty with your Clan leader, to keep the peace between us, granting you the use of the forest along our border. I learned enough of your Clan to know that you are an honorable people. Now, give us your word, and we will release you.”

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