Page 84 of Bound to the Orc Renegade

“The notes say it’s immediate.”

“Immediate! Then she should be awake already!” All of the hope I’ve been clinging to starts to unravel.

Gerna presses her hand to Taylor’s forehead, but my sister’s not a healer, per se. Her magic works with plants, not bodies. Then she turns and takes my hands. “Taylor’s human,andthis was a different kind of deathsleep. This doesn’t mean the antidote won’t work. It might simply take longer.”

I nod, grasping at any last thread of hope.

“You should rest,” she says.

“No.” I shake my head. “I’ll stay with her.”

“But—”

“I’ll stay.” King Aldronn himself couldn’t drag me from my bride’s side. “Thank you, Gerna.”

She gives me a quick hug and leaves.

I sit in the chair beside the bed and pick up Taylor’s hand, pressing a kiss to it. It’s the first time we’ve been alone since the cave, and I’d give anything to be back there now, loving a fully awake Taylor.

I’ve spent so long focused on all the wrong things—becoming warlord, becoming a king’s guard. By the goddess, I didn’t even listen to what Taylor tried to tell me of the kind of life she wanted. I hadn’t wanted to hear her ideas, too caught up in my dreams of glory.

I’ve been such a fool. Nothing in my life is more important than her.

“Please come back to me, my bride.” I squeeze her hand in mine. “We’ll live wherever you want. We’ll do whatever you want. Nothing is more important than your happiness.”

The words are still warm on my lips when footsteps sound behind me and a familiar weighty hand clamps onto my shoulder. “Come, boy. The king summoned you.”

I glance over my shoulder at my father. “King Aldronn’s here?”

“Of course not. Don’t be stupid.” And there it is, the look of derision he always gives me, his eyes hard, his lip curled into a sneer that frames one tusk. “He’s in Raven Steel Village. A messenger returned. The king wants you to join him there.”

I hadn’t realized Dravarr had sent a message to the king, but of course as warlord he had. I should have as well, but I had far more important things to focus on.

“No.” I turn back to Taylor.

“No?” Father’s grip tightens, his fingers digging in like daggers as he tries to force me to face him. “You don’t say no to me, boy.”

I resist for just long enough to make it clear that he can no longer move me if I do not wish to be moved. I’m no longer a teen to be pushed around, either physically or with words.

Lunging upward, I spin and plant both hands on his chest, shoving him away from me. We arenotgoing to do this where it might disturb my bride’s recovery.

His mouth drops open in shock, and he sputters. He looks so much like me, only worn with age and marked by hatefulness. Why can no one else see the way disapproval has carved deep lines into his face? I keep shoving, driving him across the living area and out the front door.

Branikk bolts off the couch and shoots me a knowing glance, ready to lend a hand if I need it.

I do not. Several years’ worth of pent-up frustration fuel my muscles.

By the time we’re outside, the confusion in Father’s eyes has disappeared under a wash of rage. “You’ll go to the kingand maybefinallymake something of yourself. You’re my son. You represent this family, and you won’t bring dishonor on my name!” He pokes a finger into my chest with each sentence, his lips twisted in a snarl. “Though knowing you, you’ll probably fuck it up like you do everything else.”

Shocked gasps come from around us. This is the first time he’s ever slipped in public, but he’s too angry to care.

“No.” The word encapsulates everything I feel. I won’t leave Taylor, even for the king. I won’t fail in the only way that truly matters.

I won’t failherever again.

“No? No!” he spits at me, getting right in my face. His finger continues to prod me with every statement. “Is that all you can say? Have you become even dumber than before?”

Grumbled murmurs come from all around us. I don’t take my eyes off him, but I can feel my clan mates gathering and filling the spaces between the wide, curving tree trunks. Only a few weeks ago, it would have been my greatest nightmare to have all our dirty laundry aired in front of everyone. Now I realize it was never my nightmare—it was Father’s.

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