Page 72 of Bound to the Orc Warlord

The pixie leader calls out in a high whistle right at the upper register of my hearing. Soon the flock swarms around my head, calling to each other in their high, piping voices.

I stare, my eyes going wide.

Then the head pixie comes down to hover right in front of my face. “You show flying.”

“Yes!” I leap to my feet. “Oh, wait. I don’t have my broomstick.”

Dravarr says, “I’ll get it for you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. Finish your meal.” He strides off in the direction of his cottage, his long legs eating up the distance.

Olivia makes the pixies dinner, and their high cries of “pizza!” echo through the green. A dozen of them arrange themselves around the edge of the crust as the leader flies overhead. She shouts a series of whistled instructions, her little arms moving like a conductor with an orchestra. They lift the pizza from the table and fly the extra-large pie over to a patch of moss. Then the whole flock descends in a whirl of fluttering wings, arms a blur as they rip free chunks of cheese-covereddough and bring them to mouths suddenly grown huge with many sharp teeth.

“Uh,” I lean close to Olivia and murmur. “I thought they were supposed to be cute.”

“They are cute,” she says. “Only it’s Faerie cute, which means they’re also vicious if they want to be. They even have swords.”

Dravarr returns with my broom, and I leap from my seat to take it from him. Excitement zips through me. Not gonna lie—I’ve been hoping to show off my witch power.

I straddle my broomstick, my new fitted leather pants easier to move in than the ones I’d borrowed from Dravarr.

My crystal warms in my hand as I whisper my wish, magic singing through me until I can’t tell if it’s joy or my power that makes me feel so light.

When I rise into the air, everyone at the table gasps. Someone must see me from the window of the pub, because a loud cry goes up, and orcs start pouring out.

Done devouring their pizza, the pixies rise from the ground and swirl around me, several feet away, their high and fast voices a series of whistles.

I lean forward to grip the broom with both hands and take off, shooting up into the night sky with a whoop. After flying a few quick circles, I come back down to hover in the air exactly where I started. I’m getting better at this whole control thing, all the careful exercises Drake put me through paying off.

Cheers erupt from the crowd as they surge onto the green. Waving tankards slosh the rich scent of ale into the air.

The pixies converge on me, chittering so quickly all of their voices merge into one loud note. The leader shrieks, darting into their middle, and they finally fall silent. She points at me. “You take us for ride up high?”

“Sure!” I grin.

The flock flies closer, the pixies grabbing hold of locks of my floating hair until they wreath my head in a halo of little blue stars I can just make out at the edges of my peripheral vision. When I run out of hair, the others grip tiny fistfuls of my shirt, hanging off my shoulders. The leader sits on my collarbone as if she called shotgun, hands holding onto the fabric on each side of her butt.

“Here we go!” I point the broom handle upward and dash into the night sky.

The pixies all squeal with excitement, the one at my collar the loudest.

My laughter echoes out into the night as we top the tree canopy, the sky a blanket of star-spangled purple overhead.

A chorus of “ohs” comes from all around me, and the leader bounces in place and demands, “Higher!”

I channel more power into the broomstick, and we zip up into the air. After we’ve climbed high, I slow until we hover over a dark blanket of forest, Moon Blade Village’s circular layout barely discernable below but for the glow of light.

Up here, the gentle breeze felt at ground level picks up speed, carrying more of a chill. It’s refreshing for a few moments, and my magic seems to keep me warm, but I don’t know about my little passengers, especially since they’ve grown silent.

“Are you all right?”

The head pixie’s been leaning over and craning her neck to look at the forest. She probably has better night sight than me, just like Dravarr does. “It’s amazing! We’ve never flown so high.” Her little arm points to where a cluster of blue dots hangs off to the right. “Look! Another flock!”

The others answer in a series of excited whistles.

A stronger gust slaps into my side, colder than before, and my passengers cling to me more tightly.

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