Page 21 of Bound to the Orc Warlord

“Then you may call me Drake.” He pauses for a moment. “But only you.”

“Drake, Drake, Drake!” Midnight gives a neighing laugh and breaks into a full gallop.

My knees grip the unicorn’s sides as I hold Ashley to me, her answering laugh lifting my heart.

Even though she practices all day, the lessons don’t go well. Even as I try to remind myself that my first warrior trainingsessions were far from perfect, it’s frustrating to witness. My old tutors’ taunts to try harder rise to the tip of my tongue, and I force myself to bite them back. My bride is too soft for such things.

Yet there are benefits to her lack of success. Every time a tethered Ashley floats overhead without being able to come back down, it gives me an excuse to grasp her ankle and walk my hands up her legs to bring her back into my arms.

She hangs above me now, half-turned so I can see her face lit by evening sunlight. It’s screwed up in concentration as she grips her crystal and mouths a series of soft sounds.

Midnight gallops across a meadow, the rich green grass grown high enough to tickle the knees. Flowers dot the expanse with even more color, bright yellow buttercups, white daisies, red poppies, and aptly named bluebells. The open space gives Ashley room to practice, even as it exposes us to any enemies who may be searching. With each cadenced thump of Midnight’s hooves, the edge of the forest grows ever closer, rising like a wall before us. “Dravarr,” the unicorn warns.

“I see it.” I reach for my bride. She’s having a harder time of learning for precisely this reason—there aren’t enough breaks in the tree cover to provide her much time for real practice.

Before my fingers can close around her ankle, she bobs down toward me. Her eyes snap open, her face breaking into a glorious smile. “I did it! I controlled it!”

Her pleasure suffuses me with warmth—

A rough snarl lashes through the air, and a dark shape emerges from the trees directly in front of us.

“Ogre!” Midnight makes a sharp pivot that throws my weight sideways and flings the dragon from her back.

Ashley gasps overhead, and I can only pray that her weightlessness means the tug of the rope didn’t hurt her.

Midnight carries us away along the tree line, but another ogre steps out into her path, swinging a mighty battle axe that makes her rear up, into a sudden halt.

My hands fumble with the knot now cinched tight around my waist as I’m thrown forward. It’s no use—it won’t come loose in time.

“Fly to safety!” I pull my sword and slice the rope, freeing my bride to soar away from this new danger. I’ll worry about how to get her back once I make everything down here safe.

My feet hit the grass-covered ground, and I leap forward to meet the larger ogre. Eight feet tall, he’s easily half as wide as me, heavy with muscle. Hairless and black eyed, his features are a rough approximation of a face. He wears only a crude fur loincloth, the rest of his body covered by leathery gray skin, so thick it can turn a regular blade.

I bare my tusks in feral promise, for my sword is no regular blade. It’s moon steel, the strongest metal known.

Midnight finishes her turn and dashes past us, headed back toward the first ogre. I do not need to look to know she will keep him from my back.

The ogre swings his heavy battleaxe, and our weapons meet in a clang that vibrates through my entire body. We stand locked together, straining, muscles burning.

“I will have your sky gift!” Foul breath washes over me, stinking of decay. The ogre’s eyes flick upward to where Ashley floats in the air. “I heard the last one was skinny, but this one looks quite the tasty treat.”

Rage floods my bloodstream and washes the world red as my heart pounds the rhythm of a battle drum. He dares to speak of my moon bound in such a fashion! A growl rumbles through my chest. I will slice the leer from his face.

“You have nothing to say, orc bastard?” the ogre taunts.

With a mighty heave, I push him away. My sword sings through the air, sinking into his shoulder in a spurt of black blood.

“How’s that for an answer, ogre scum?” I snap my tusks at him. “Why should I waste words on you when my blade makes my point so well?”

We trade another flurry of strikes, the ogre hitting with the force of a mountain. My foe is larger and stronger, but I have the advantage of training and discipline.

My magic reaches out, testing his axe. The double-bladed head attaches to the body in a thick lump of metal, inelegant but strong. I search harder, seeking a weak spot…

There! I know how to defeat him now.

Sounds of battle come from behind me, the firm strike of Midnight’s hooves on flesh, the clack of her horn meeting metal. She laughs her wild battle laugh, and I know she sees triumph as well.

I grin, a feral baring of tusks, and prepare for the winning strike. I’ll break his axe, then end him.

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