Page 65 of Taken By the Fae King

We’re not even completely dressed for the day when Aren knocks on the door.

I open it just enough to peer out, making sure to shield my mate from his eyes. She is only partially dressed, and my instincts are on edge. If we had fully mated, I would not be so possessive, but because we did not, it is difficult to tamp down my aggression.

Despite that Aren is my personal guard and as close to me as a brother, he is an unbonded male. The dark and primal part of my nature demanding that I hide my mate from him. “What is it?” I ask, trying but failing to hide the irritation in my tone.

He arches a brow. “Why did you not seal your bond?”

“How did you know?” I narrow my eyes.

“Because you are acting as though you think I mean to storm inside and snatch your mate from you.”

A growl rises in my throat, and he rolls his eyes. “See?”

Coming back to myself, I clear my throat and tip up my chin. “Forgive me.”

“Seal your bond,” he gently chastises. “I have a job to do, and I cannot do it if you seemeas a threat.”

He’s right, but I cannot do this yet. So, I will simply have to force myself to focus. “Why are you here?”

Inwardly, I curse myself that my words come out much sharper than intended.

Pursing his lips, he narrows his eyes. “If you are finding it difficult to control yourself around me, I wonder how you will handle this,” he says dryly.

He holds out a small parchment. “What is this?”

“It is from the border,” he explains. “But our scouts report they are already nearing the edge of the city.”

My eyes widen as I scan the message. “Orcs?”

“Youdidinvite them,” Aren reminds me. “Or have you forgotten?”

“Of course, I have not forgotten,” I reply tersely.

I glance over my shoulder at Grayce and sigh heavily. Despite how skillfully she dealt with the Orc scout at Corduin, I do not want her near a dozen of them. But I doubt she will remain in our rooms while I speak with them alone.

“What of the queen?” Aren asks, guessing at my troubled thoughts.

“As much as I hate the idea of her in the same room as Orcs, I also know that I need her if I am to reach any sort of accord with them,” I reply resignedly. “She understands them better than I do.”

“Better than all of us,” Aren points out.

When we reachthe throne room, several members of the High Council have already arrived, waiting to see what will happen. It is not every day that Orcs come to Sylari. The last time was well over two-hundred years ago, if I remember my history correctly.

Grayce takes the throne beside mine. Everyone is watching her. No doubt word of what happened at Corduin has already reached their ears. She ignores their curious stares, her gaze impassive as she waits for the Orcs to enter the room.

The doors open and a collective gasp sounds from the crowd as they walk in. Dressed in simple leather loincloths and covered in the inked markings of their Clan, they walk toward us, their very appearance menacing as they approach.

But my mate appears unfazed. The closest one steps forward, and I recognize him immediately as the scout from Corduin. Behind him is another Orc. This one wearing a plain golden band across his forehead for a crown and a deep scowl as his raven-black eyes scan the crowd. He must be King Arokh.

They come to a halt at the base of the raised dais.

“Greetings, Brave One,” the Orc scout addresses Grayce in Orcish. He dips his chin to me. “Fae King.”

“Greetings, Warrior,” Grayce replies in their language.

The Orc wearing the crown steps forward. He thumps his fist to his chest. “I am Arokh.” He bows to her. “I have heard much of you, Brave Queen.”

“It is an honor to meet you King Arokh,” she says, and something akin to regret or sadness flits briefly across his otherwise stern face.

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