Page 60 of Bound to the Orc Warlord

“Thankfully, you have found it here.” His arm tightens around me.

A zing of happiness goes through me as I lean my head back against his firm chest. With my magic, Alarria feels more like home than anywhere else I’ve ever been.

Especially when I’m with Dravarr.

By midday, we’re so deep into the plains no forest darkens the horizon in any direction. There’s only the distant purpling of mountain peaks thrust into the sky.

“Those are my home!” Drake says, swooping close. “Do you see them?”

“I do!” I laugh up at him. “Human eyesight isn’tthatbad.”

“It’s far worse than a dragon’s! We’re—”

I finish his sentence. “Superior beings, I know.”

Dravarr snorts, the sound almost turning into a chuckle, and I shoot him a grin over my shoulder.

We crest a small rise, and the plains open up below us, a unicorn herd grazing in the bottom of a shallow bowl.

“Babies!” I squeal, excitement making my voice hit a high note it hasn’t reached since I was twelve. “Unicorn babies!”

I don’t care if they’re supposed to be called something official, like foals or whatever. They’refartoo cute for that word. Three tiny miniature horses amble about with a baby bud of a horn on their foreheads and blue eyes too big for their faces. Silver sparkles off their manes and tails, far more than it does on any of the adults, until their longer hair looks dipped in glitter.

If anything around here’s going to fart rainbows, it’s them.

I lean forward as Midnight comes to a stop right in the middle of the herd, my hands outstretched toward the babies. “Do we have any more apples?” Then I answer my own question. “Damn, why’d I eat them all the other day? I wish I’d saved some!”

Anything to bring these little cuties closer.

Dravarr gives another half-chuckle, dismounts, and lifts me down to the ground. “I’ll see if I can find some wild carrots for you.”

“Yay.” I clap my hands and bounce—freakingbounce. I can’t help it. I’m on a cuteness overload and all the extra has to come out somehow.

But it turns out I don’t need treats. Being something new is enough.

“What’s that?” one of the foals cries out.

They all wheel around and race over.

“It’s an elf!” a high voice calls out. “Are you an elf?”

“No, you silly!” another says, “Her ears aren’t pointed.”

Soon, I’m surrounded by bounding bundles of silvery joy.

The adults step closer but don’t interfere.

The tiny unicorns leap up to plant their front hooves on my thighs, straining to sniff at my tummy.

I crouch down, letting them nuzzle into my hair with soft huffs of breath. “I’m a human.”

“A human?”

“What’s that?”

“Is that a kind of elf?” says the one, clearly still stuck on elves.

“It’s something better.” I comb my fingers through their silky manes, almost expecting the glittery sparkles to come off on my hands but glad they don’t. “I’m a witch!”

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