Page 81 of Bound to the Orc Renegade

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Its dark skin crawls as the impression of wings and feathers constantly stirs below the surface, as if it can barely contain all the souls it’s stolen over the years. “She’s still a human instead of fae.”

Ice shivers through me. “What do you mean?”

“The deathsleep might not preserve her like it does a fae. She may wither instead.” It shrugs a shoulder. “It would be preferable, even. These new human witches bring too much trouble to Alarria.”

“You mean these human witches bring trouble foryou,” Storm says.

The soul stealer gnashes a mouthful of sharp teeth at us. “You did not think we’d let such a threat go unchecked, did you? These witches will not stop our plans.”

“Plans?” Storm stomps at the ground. “You do not control Alarria.”

The sluagh only smiles in a baring of wicked teeth.

Desperation claws at me, and I cling to any answer I can find. “It doesn’t matter. We have the deathsleep antidote now.”

“You have the antidote that works on fae,” it says. “Who knows if it will work on a human?”

Mist appears in mid-lunge, one huge paw already swiping at the soul stealer.

It lets out an angry shriek and leaps upward, breaking into dozens of black birds that dart up into the sky, their raucous caws sounding like laughter.

Mist’s paws thump into the ground where it stood. She lets out an angry snarl and shreds the bird she caught. It dissolvesinto nothingness, and her green eyes glare at the remaining birds as they fly ever farther away. Then she trots over to sniff at Taylor. “I couldn’t stop the gourd.”

“No one could have,” Storm says.

I shove my sword into the scabbard and leap to my feet, cradling my bride to me. Once seated on Storm’s back, I pause.

We stand on the border of orc lands. To the left waits Elmswood Keep and King Aldronn and all the promise of a glorious future as one of the king’s guard. To the right stands Moon Blade Village, the place I swore never to return to unless in triumph. It also holds my sister, Gerna, the master herbalist I trust most in all the world. Yet the king will have excellent healers and herbalists, too.

Everything in my entire life tells me to turn left, to take the violet trifolia straight to the king and pray his people can heal Taylor. My father’s voice cuts through my mind. “Do something to make me proud.”

My every dream lies to the left.

Taylor’s face looks so unnatural like this, all the personality and enthusiasm hidden beneath the deathsleep coma. Pain stabs my heart like a dagger. I love her more than anything. All the glory and accolades in the world will be the empty shells of worthless baubles without her.

I clutch my bride to me and point in the only direction I can go.

I point right, toward home.

The rest of that day and the next is a blur, my world shrunk to little more than Taylor’s wan face. Is the deathsleep holding her in perfect suspension as it should? Or is she dying, slippingaway from me before I even get to tell her how I feel? Before I can tell her how important she is to me?

Storm runs as he’s never run before, and Mist becomes a fleeting shadow at our side, there for one moment then gone the next, having to duck in and out of the shadow roads to keep up.

Every time we stop for the unicorn to drink or eat a few hurried mouthfuls of food, I try to ply my moon bound with water. I’m no healer, but I’ve been around Gerna enough to know hydration is one of the most important needs of a body.

But the water dribbles from Taylor’s lips. I can’t tell if she swallows any.

Mist pokes at me with verbal jabs until I drink some water and eat a tasteless mouthful of travel rations. “You won’t do her any good if you fall out of the saddle, you big lummox.”

When I tell her she’s also not eating, she just sniffs and turns up her nose. “Who says I’m not?”

She lies. I know it. Our fast pace gives her no time to hunt. We don’t even stop at night, Storm calling upon every bit of his unicorn healing ability to soldier on.

The only consolation is every time we stop, he touches Taylor with his horn, and it never works. His magic never tries to heal her, so she’s not on death’s door yet.

I cling to that hope just as hard as I cling to her body as we travel onward through the endless forest.

“Stay with me,” I whisper into the soft tickle of her messy hair. “You can’t leave me, my love. Stay with me, please.”

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