Page 24 of Bound to the Orc Renegade

The feline fae shoots me sly, knowing glances every chance she gets, and I bare my tusks at her until she once again slips out of sight. Mist acts as our party’s scout, ranging ahead to ensure no foes lie in wait. With Storm able to gallop at full strength, we usually travel at great enough speed not to warrant such, but at this slow crawl, I’m glad for her extra caution.

Not that I’ll tell the annoying cat anything of the sort.

Finally, the way ahead lightens, tree trunks thinning only slightly before stopping completely. Storm’s steady pace picks up in one last burst of speed as he canters out into a wide meadow of knee high grass dotted with wildflowers. He begins grazing immediately, putting paid to the lie that he didn’t need to. Fighting off the effects of the deathsleep clearly took a lot out of him, since his body fuels his magic, exactly as mine does for me.

Only those blessed with the rare power of a standing stone can tap into almost infinite power. The stone that gave Taylor magic didn’t work for me, so it’s not one of the ones that work for everyone, like the cleaning stone near my village. Which means Taylor must be gifted not only with a special ability unknown in Alarria but also with an inexhaustible supply of power. My bride will become one of the most formidable magic wielders in all of Alarria.

Dreams of glory fill my mind. When I return to the king with both her and the violet trifolia, he’ll do more than make me a guard. King Aldronn will make me one of his top military advisers, perhaps even a general. We haven’t had any generals in all our years in Alarria, but stories of our home realm of Avalon speak of them, of how the orcs were part of a huge fae army, fighting alongside the elves.

I step into the meadow, and Taylor stirs as the sunlight hits her closed eyes, murmuring a sleepy protest into my skin.

She’s lovely, bathed in light that adds a warm glow to her tan skin and picks up glints of gold in her wild hair. When she blinks up at me with those big brown eyes, my arms tighten, well ready to forget I have any purpose in life but to hold her.

No—I give myself an internal shake—my dreams will only become a reality if I make them so.

“We’re here,” I say. “Time to practice.” Because the sooner she masters her powers, the better, both for our quest and so that she’ll be well versed in them by the time I present her to the king.

Her eyes brighten, and she smiles. “Time to show those pinecones who’s boss.”

“They will tremble in fear,” I say, making her laugh, the high sweet sound piercing straight into my heart.

Mist appears beside us, a smoky outline growing ever sharper, showing off her magic.

Taylor jumps and laughs again. “Your power is so cool.”

“Of course it is.” The cat sith’s tone sounds smug. Her head swivels as she takes in the meadow. “How are we going to do this?”

I set Taylor down, and we all look out over the open grass. It’s high enough that any pinecone set on the ground will be lost to sight. Trees wait on the other side, about fifty yards away. I point. “You could use those as target practice.”

My moon bound frowns. “I don’t really want to hurt trees.”

“I normally wouldn’t either,” I say. “But our quest is important.” My plans are important.

She looks up at me. “Can we find another way?”

Frustration clashes inside me, the dueling desires of needing to succeed and wanting to please her. But pleasing her in this small thing will help with my larger goal. I tip my head. “I will try to find something.”

Her radiant smile follows me all the way back into the trees, lightening my steps even more than my magic can.

I am a man bewitched and happy to be caught in her spell.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Taylor

A soft breeze blows a lock of hair across my face, and I brush it away, glad a recent trim means my bangs are short enough not to get in my eyes. The warm sun hangs high in the sky—it must be around noon. I lace my fingers together and stretch my arms overhead. I can’t believe I fell asleep while Krivoth carried me, but something about the smooth sway of his gait and the sure strength of his arms holding me lulled me into a feeling of safety.

Lush grass of a kind I’ve never seen covers the meadow. It’s a good foot tall, and the individual blades are narrow and a vibrant green that makes me think it’s tender and sweet. Storm certainly seems to think so. He’s several yards away, but the sound of his teeth grinding a mouthful vigorously reaches me. His jaw movesside to side, he swallows, and his head dips to rip more grass free.

Dots of yellow buttercups decorate the field like a giant threw a handful of golden coins, spreading them wide but unevenly as nature will.

A group of a taller plant stands to one side, topped by fat clumps of tiny white blossoms. Butterflies flutter around the flowers in a cloud.

No, wait—those aren’t butterflies!

They have tiny human-like bodies wrapped in clothes made of leaves, some green, some blue, some a patchwork of both. Wispy explosions of white hair stand out from their heads like dandelion puffs, and their skin is the light pink of wild roses.

But most impressively, wide butterfly wings spread from their backs in a range of iridescent colors that sparkle and flash in the sunlight.

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