Page 3 of Bound to the Orc Renegade

He lets go, and I finally glance up, too.

“Oh.” My mouth falls open.

A whirling ball of white light hangs in the air above me, shooting off little blue bolts of lightning. The beautiful music pours from it in a haunting tinkle of bells backed by a stringed instrument I can’t name. It looks like a special effect from a game, but a warm breeze blows over my face, scented with trees and flowers, and I know deep within me that it’s real.

There’s a hollowness inside my chest, one I’ve never been able to fill. One I’ve never been able to explain to anyone but Mom and Aunt Marge. They sat me down for a talk at sixteen—which I’d worried was gonna be the “sex” talk, but ended up far weirder—and told me they feel the emptiness too. But they didn’t have any answers as to what it is. “It’s something the women of our family have. Don’t talk about it with others—not even your husband—they won’t understand.”

But this light, this song, it fills me right up until I feel like I’m ready to burst! I rise onto my toes, my body straining upward as I reach for the light…

“What the fuck kind of weird shit is this?” Julian says.

Before I can answer, my voice booms out of the ball of light: “I wish I couldmakehim leave me alone!”

It echoes in the concrete stairwell, and Julian lurches forward, knocking into me.

I go flying backward.

“No!” I yell, reaching for the light, caught in that split second before I’ll crash into the hard concrete stairs.

The brilliant ball rushes toward me, swallowing me in silver brightness.

CHAPTER TWO

Krivoth

A thunder of hooves rumbles behind me, and my lips pull back from my tusks in a grin. I guessed right. I stormed out of Moon Blade Village yesterday, determined to find a new place in the world.

But I didn’t let frustration cloud my judgment. Instead, I let it drive my feet forward, each step carrying me closer to this—the moment I’d take up my new position.

The path I walk winds through dense pine trees, barely wide enough for two to ride abreast. An opening in the canopy ahead lets golden sunlight pour down, and the shady home of ferns gives way to dense clumps of blackberry bushes, their ends heavy with a mix of unripe red fruit and those already darkened to glistening purple-black readiness. My mouthwaters, imagining their tart sweetness, but the bushes will serve me in a different way today.

The overhead sun warms the top of my head as I halt in the narrowest part of the trail and school my expression to seriousness. I spin around right as the first unicorn comes into view, tall in the shoulders and with a wicked horn spiraling out of its forehead. One of the orcs of the king’s guard rides the great beast, a strong woman with sharp eyes that narrow on me as her mount comes to an abrupt halt.

More riders spill out of the trail behind her, spreading across the small opening under the shade of the trees. I search their number, wondering if Branikk’s among them. I’d be happy for my friend—he’s an excellent hunter, and even the king needs to eat—and we’d talked of being guards together. Yet at the same time, a sour hint of discontent twists through me as I imagine my father sneering that even in this I came second.

But all of these orcs are strangers, and no one looks particularly friendly. Their assessing glances make resolve harden within me. They don’t remember me from their visit to the village, but why would they? I’m simply one warrior of many. I’m not the warlord.

I’m not Dravarr.

I fight down a grimace. It’s been the story of my whole damned life, not being Dravarr. I’m sick of it. That’s what today’s all about—finding something that’smine, without any need for comparison.

“Why are we stopping?” a peeved female voice says. The largest of the unicorns pushes through the rest, snorting and tossing her head, one icy blue eye spearing into me. “Who’s this?”

“It’s one of the warriors from Moon Blade Village.” King Aldronn pats his mount’s withers. A few years older than me, his long hair is still the inky black of a man in his prime. Dressed likeanyone else in leather pants and a fitted linen tunic, he carries a sword at his hip, the leather scabbard a twin to mine. He’s a normal size for an orc, seven-feet tall and thick with muscle. Even though he could blend into a crowd of orcs based on looks alone, a heavy sense of presence surrounds him, a mixture of responsibility and command. Orcs might not go in for all the finery and jewels our cousins the elves drape themselves with, but there’s no doubt he’s our king.

“I’m Krivoth, your Majesty.” I tip my head and wait for him to give me leave to look up—offering the deepest sign of respect an orc can give.

“You want something,” he says, cutting right to the chase.

“Only to serve you.” I meet his eyes. “I would join your guard.”

“If you’re so worthy to join us, where’s your mount?” The unicorn turns her head from side to side, pretending to look for something. “Do they hide?”

My teeth grind together. She’s not stupid. She sees the pack on my back, the indentations of my footsteps in the pine-needles covering the ground. Even without those hints, her senses would tell her no scent of strange unicorn hangs in the air.

The other unicorns snort in amusement.

“I have no mount.” A familiar anger burns in my chest, and I scowl. “But I go to find one.”

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