Page 29 of Bound to the Orc Ranger

Her moth wings flutter with excitement. “Pizza for pixies?”

“Sweet pizza or savory?”

Bluebell’s little face screws up in thought, and then she grins. “One sweet. One savory.”

“Twopizzas?”

“I have grown my clan. We are strong.”

As if to prove her words, a large number of pixies gather in the window, the flock of them shining with silvery blue light like a small moon.

“Two pizzas, it is.”

A chorus of delighted whistles fills the air.

I laugh and get back to work. By the time I am done, Rovann stands in the doorway, his expression as hopeful as the pixies.

“Is it ready?”

I use my improvised paddle to pull the pizza from the oven, and he takes it from me, carrying it with one hand while the other splays across my lower back as he guides me outside.

We circle one of the huge round trunks and come out on a transformed village green. The open sky overhead darkens with oncoming night, and a cool evening breeze carries the scent of fresh growing things. Glow stones hang from the lowest branches of the central heart trees, like little golden stars. And Bluebell’s pixie flock adds their own sparks of moving blue.

Wooden tables dot the green moss, topped with tankards and plates. Orcs fill the benches, drinking and talking and laughing. They’re a wild, rowdy bunch, and I love it.

“We brought the pub outside,” Rovann says. “Do you like it?”

“I love it!”

“Told you she would.” Hurtle’s dry voice comes from behind me, and I spin to throw my arms around his neck.

I conjure a big bag of oats and set them on one of the empty benches for him, then press a kiss into his silky mane. “Thank you.”

“You already said that.”

“And I’ll say it again. Often, so you’d better get used to it.”

He grunts and dips his nose into the bag. He can grump all he wants—I don’t care. I liked him before, but knowing he saved Rovann’s life makes him especially dear.

Gerna waves from across the green as Rovann leads me to a table in the center where his mother and brother wait.

He sets down the pizza and holds up his hands. “Everyone! I know you’ve all heard that my new bride is my moon bound, and I want to confirm it.” He strips his shirt over his head with the confidence of a person easy in their skin. His fingers brush over the crescent moon tattoo covering his heart as he pivots to allow everyone to see.

“The moon bound mate marks appeared! The Moon Goddess blesses our marriage!”

The orcs yell and stomp, cheering us on. A male yells out, “Show us hers!”

“Not a chance.” Rovann shoots him a glare, then grins and pulls his shirt back on. “But my bride will show you her power!”

I grab my crystal and concentrate on the tables spread all around me. I’ve never done this much magic at one time, but I won’t know what I can do if I don’t try.

According to Leyna, the old teachings say I pull upon the standing stone instead of my own reserves. It’s one of the things that makes my magic different and special… and potentially limitless.

A series of pops sound as pizzas appear, all heavy with garlic and pepperoni from a real Italian deli.

The orcs cheer, and everyone digs in, even as Bluebell’s high voice cries out. I concentrate again, and a pizza and a waffle blink into existence on the table in front of me. I wave over the pixie. “Come and get it!”

Excited whistles sound as the flock descends, well practiced enough by now to carry off their prizes with minimal fuss.

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