Page 45 of Bound to the Orc Warlord

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not the perfect time. I haven’t perfectly wooed her yet.”

“Perfect, perfect, perfect.” She stomps a hoof. “Goddess save me from you and your perfection, Dravarr.”

I grunt. “I actually miss Rovann.” My brother’s always been better with people, and as the only orc with a human bride, I sorely need his council.

“Then let’s go. The sooner we do, the sooner we return to the village.”

“You’re right.” I give her neck another pat.

Midnight gives her neighing laugh. “I always am.”

Once I mount, she tears out of the small clearing, cutting through evergreens without a single bit of concern for the slapping branches.

Instead of protesting, I lean forward until I’m low over her neck and withers. I push down into the stirrups to lift from the saddle so my ass won’t bump into her back—it saves both of us from bruising.

Midnight finds a stream heading in our general direction and uses the openness of its bank to pound along at a fast gallop. The wind of our passage whips across my face, the trees blurring with our speed. My lips pull back from my tusks in a feral grin.The adventure and abandon all the Wild Fae carry in their truest selves sings in my blood. My duties as warlord muffle it, but it never fully goes away. It’s been quite some time since I let myself feel it, though. Too long.

Is this what Ashley feels when she flies? A delight in movement and speed? If so, I can see why she likes it, craves it.

Just as I crave her.

And the way she wakes me to life. I doubt I would have allowed myself this moment of wild joy if not for my moon bound bride and everything she’s freeing me to feel. I’m a man woken from the slumber of a gray half life to the bright sunshine of her radiant smile.

We descend the last of the hills, the rise and fall of their slopes gentling, the forest opening up to let more light shine down on berry bushes instead of harboring nothing but shady groves of ferns.

I ask Midnight to stop, both to give her a rest and to pluck several handfuls of black raspberries, their dark purple-red signaling peak ripeness. As tempting as they are, I wrap all of them in a cloth to save for my moon bound. She loves sweets, and I long to provide for her, even as we deal with the rough food of the road instead of the delights of the home table.

We both drink from a stream, and I make sure to refill the waterskin. Ashley will be thirsty when she returns from her flight.

Then we take off again, Midnight galloping along at a ground-eating gait only sustainable due to her healing magic. Any regular horse would have dropped back to a canter long before now.

I ride low over her back, but I can’t help but search the sky every time there’s a break in the trees. The clouds roiling overhead darken to a medium gray, and the air grows heavy with the promise of oncoming rain. Where’s my moon bound?

“How far?” I yell.

“It’s not long now!”

We’ll meet the others at a rock formation Midnight suggested as a rendezvous, saying it would be readily visible from the air.

Even though I’m not familiar with the area, we’re nearing the Umbriall Plains, so named after the realm of Faerie unicorns originally came from. The wide-open grasslands are Midnight’s childhood home. The Moon Goddess plucked up an entire herd of unicorns and deposited them there several centuries ago, only a few years after she brought my ancestors from Avalon.

Alarria’s like no other realm of Faerie, containing a mix of Wild Fae taken from all the realms. We have little in common but for the fact that our forms are either animal or our magic tends toward nature. Elves, brownies, hobs, and all fae who prefer a more domesticated existence are rare.

Long have we tried to ask our goddess for answers, but no one understands the celestial glory of her song. She shapes our world to her capricious will, dropping sky gifts of value or trouble in equal measure.

Yet I thank her, for she brought me my bride.

We burst from a grove of blue birch onto the edge of the plains, and a dark rocky spire rises above the treetops to the left. Anticipation races through me, and Midnight turns and puts on a surge of speed.

We’re almost there, almost to where Ashley may even now be waiting for me!

An object drops from the sky right in front of us and explodes into a cloud of orange vapor.

Deathsleep! If breathed in, the hateful herb will put us in a coma for a hundred years. It’s a coward’s weapon, but a fearsome one nonetheless.

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