Page 19 of Bound to the Orc Ranger

“You have magic?” I spin to look up at him, shocked.

“Small magic. The magic of paths. The earth speaks to me of the best direction to travel, the easiest place to ford a river, the gentlest pass through the mountains.” He shrugs. “It’s a little thing, far from the power you hold.”

“That’s not small. That’s amazing!”

“Yes, amazing,” Hurtle says dryly, leaping over a downed log. “Now use that magic and tell me the best way home.”

Rovann laughs and orders us slightly left, promising it’s not far now.

I can’t wait to see his village, but a part of me doesn’t want to get there yet, doesn’t want to break this bubble of joy that encompasses us just as surely as Rovann’s arms surround me.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Rovann

Evening light slants through the breaks in the canopy overhead, the breeze at my back cooling as the sun dips. Moon Blade Village is close. This will be our first night in my heart tree cottage, and I intend to spend it with my head buried between Olivia’s sweet thighs.

A gourd flies out of the trees to smack into the ground right in front of Hurtle’s hooves. It bursts, and a thick orange fog billows upward.

“Rovann!” he yells, trying to stop, but he’s at full gallop, and momentum carries us forward into the cloud of pulverized deathsleep herb.

I hold my breath even as the cloyingly sweet scent teases my nose. Deathsleep puts most fae into a coma-like sleep for a hundred years. Even a small bit can incapacitate for hours. It’s a cowardly attack, but a costly one. Deathsleep is rare and hard to handle—only the sluagh can safely do so, and they charge many favors for their wares.

There’s only one thing in the world precious enough to warrant this—my moon bound and her magic.

Hurtle staggers, his legs faltering as he fights to carry us forward, out of the miasma.

“Rovann!” Olivia cries out, her hands clutching at my arm. “What’s happening?”

Good. The deathsleep doesn’t affect humans.

But I can’t take a breath, can’t risk answering her. I wrap both arms around her and roll us from Hurtle’s back right as his front legs give out. The orange cloud still surrounds me, but the unicorn slides forward until his head clears.

I dash after him, cradling Olivia to me.

And run straight into a group of ogres, led by the one who first found her at the standing stone.

“You!” I roar.

“Seems the little human’s good for eating after all.” He snaps his large teeth. “Even if I can’t make a meal of her bones.”

This is his fault. He followed us, spied on us, and witnessed my moon bound’s magic. Now he’s gathered three more and come for her.

“Four to one.” I bare my tusks. “You’re as cowardly as ever.”

“Talk all you want, orc. It changes nothing.” The gray beast gestures, and the others spread out. “Do not hurt the human… much.”

They grunt in reply, their beady eyes feasting on my Olivia as if they already have her.

No. By the goddess no.

I set her on her feet and push her behind me. “Go back into the orange cloud.”

“But—”

“It can’t hurt you, and they won’t be able to follow.” I pull my sword and swing at the ogre on my left, keeping him from getting past me. “Go!”

She does as I ask, to a point. My bride’s kind heart stops her by Hurtle’s head, where she leans over to check on him. He stirs when she touches his neck, and relief shoots through me that he didn’t breathe in enough of the herb to be knocked out. Ogres hate unicorns almost as much as they hate orcs.

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