Page 69 of Bound to the Orc Renegade

A muscle jumps in Krivoth’s jaw, and the lines of his body go tight with tension. His voice emerges as a snarl. “Then we’ll be on our way, becauseI’mhappy to complete this quest in service of King Aldronn.”

I’ve never seen him so angry. It must have been hard for him to keep his words as polite as he did. I guess what I said to Mist is true—it’s not a good idea to piss off a dragon.

It’s Mist who breaks the tension by sauntering in front of the dragon as if she couldn’t care less that the massive fae looms over her. “Bah, dragons. Always so conceited.”

“I could say the same for you, cat.”

“It’s not conceit when you’re as amazing as I am.” Mist flashes her Cheshire-Cat smile at the dragon and blinks out of view right as a huge paw swipes toward her. It doesn’t connect.

“Wait,” I say. “If Mist’s invisible, why didn’t that touch her?”

“She isn’t invisible,” Storm says. “She’s walking the shadow roads.”

“I’ve wasted enough time. I must continue my patrol.” The dragon spreads her wings. “Know this. The soul stealers have been seen in the area.”

With that, she launches into the air in a great leap, her golden wings snapping down with a loud whomp. Wind knocks me backward, and only Krivoth’s quick save keeps me from falling. She flaps her wings again, each beat carrying her far higher than expected for such a heavy beast. Magic hums through the air, surrounding her with an aura of amazing power.

“Thank you!” I call after her.

“Do not thank her,” Krivoth growls. “She insulted my king.”

“No, I think she insultedallorcs,” Storm says.

Krivoth glares at him, and the unicorn gives a neighing laugh that almost knocks me off my feet—this time in surprise.

“I didn’t know you could laugh!”

“Of course I can.” He snorts. “I simply have discerning taste in what I find amusing.”

“No matter what she said, the dragon did help us.” I lean over, pick up the map, and wave it to get their attention. “So what are we waiting for?”

“What indeed?” Krivoth plucks me from the ground, grinning as he places me in the saddle. “We have a quest to complete.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying fordays,” Storm says, breaking into a canter as soon as Krivoth mounts behind me.

I let out a whoop, excitement thrumming through me as I rock back into the security of Krivoth’s arms.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Krivoth

Dragons! So fucking arrogant. My lips pull back from my tusks in a snarl. How dare she declare orcs beneath her notice!

Storm gallops forward, the land descending before us as we leave behind the Honeycomb Hills. The Skular Woods sit in a pocket of forest at the end of the Dular Mountain range and the start of orc lands. I would have been here over a week ago if the Moon Goddess hadn’t summoned me to a completely different location to find my bride. It’s strange to think that I’m now closer to my village than I was when I found Taylor, and the grove holding the violet trifolia will be even closer still.

As I hold my moon bound in my arms, the rage stoked by the dragon’s words finally cools. Taylor’s brown hair floats up totickle my chin, and I bury my face in the mess of it to press a kiss to the top of her head.

I can picture my return home so clearly now. I’ll ride in just like this, with a unicorn partner and with my moon bound bride in my arms. Everyone will gather around us in the village green. Gerna and Branikk will smile with true pleasure to see me home. Dravarr and Rovann will know what the human in my arms means without me needing to say a thing. Their looks will be full of respect.

My father will smile as well, using his public face, the one that makes it look like he’s a caring parent. But I’ll see the cold assessment in his eyes. Then I’ll watch it change to pride as I declare I’m now a member of the king’s guard, I’ve completed a quest that will save all orcs from the threat of deathsleep, and the goddess blessed me with a moon bound bride.

The sound of running water grows, and we break out of the pines onto the bank of a rushing river, its width dotted with dark brown stones that break the sun-sparkling surface into white-crested waves.

Storm’s dislike of water nymphs doesn’t slow him as he plunges into the water, speaking well of his commitment to our quest.

Bright liquidy voices cry out with glee as he runs, foam fingers lifting from the surface to tickle his stomach.

Wearing her human pants once again, Taylor draws her legs up to keep them dry as we ford the deepest part. My hand tightens on her, bracing as she leans out, laughing and reaching for the nymphs, who leap from the water to touch her fingers.

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