Page 85 of Bound to the Orc Hunter

“I passed out right after, but Ashley and Dravarr used one of your antidotes on me.” My voice gets louder, even though I don’t mean to shout at Gerna. “I’m fine. It’s my bride who’s not!”

She strides toward the door, opens it, and yells at the first youngling she sees, “Go get Krivoth.” Then she returns to her herbs.

“Krivoth. Why? Did he do something special for Taylor that helped her recover from deathsleep?” I half rise from the chair. “Is there something I can do?”

“No, he’s going to help me with something.”

She adds several things to a mortar and grinds them with a pestle. When done, she tips the resultant powder into a small brazier, pours water over it, and lights the fire. Magic tingles through the air as Gerna holds her hands over the bubbling mixture and uses her plant magic to make it do… something.

My magic is a cousin to hers, but while I manipulate the shape and use of wood, she works on a much tinier level, dealing with compounds too small for me to detect.

She strains the hot extract into a glass, adds another two liquids to it, and stirs, applying more magic until the whole thing glows a light purple.

By the time Krivoth bursts through the door, she’s done and walking toward me, carrying the herbal remedy.

“Gerna, how can I help?” Then my best friend notices me. “Branikk! You’re back! And you’ve got your moon bound bride!”

His sister points to me. “Get him out of here.”

“What? No!” I grip Grace’s hand.

“Branikk, I swear, I love you like a brother. But if you don’t let me work, I can’t help your bride.”

When I don’t move—can’tmove—Gerna grips my shoulder and forces me to meet her eyes. “Do you trust me?”

“With my life.”

“Good.” She tips her head toward Grace. “So trust me with hers.”

“Come on.” Krivoth’s hands grab me, hauling me bodily from the chair. I resist, and we grapple, evenly matched in strength. I’m tired from fighting all morning and struggling to hold Grace throughout the flight. But I’m also desperate.

Finally, he wheels me around to face him, using an armlock. “Did you forget thatI’msupposed to be the grumpy one?”

“It’s deathsleep, Krivoth,” I pant, all the fight going out of me. “Just like with Taylor.”

He sucks in a sharp breath, his eyes going haunted. He went through the same with his bride, having to ride for days carrying her unconscious body before he could get her to Gerna. Krivoth releases his hold on my arm to pull me into a hug. “It’ll be okay.”

I crane my neck, looking back at Grace, hoping he’s right.

Because I can’t picture life without her.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Grace

The rumble of multiple deep voices penetrates my dream and pulls me toward consciousness. Shit. Stanley’s parked the employee trailers way too close together again if I can hear the guys from the next one over. I groan and roll onto my side, pulling a pillow over my head and tugging the blanket up to cover my shoulder. My fingers touch fur.

Fur? My eyes snap open, but I can’t see anything but light-green fabric.

Before I can move it, the pillow slides from my head, and Branikk’s deep voice says, “I’d almost forgotten how enamored you are of pillows.”

Everything comes rushing back to me like one of those “previously on” things that start TV shows, only my highlightreel is all him: meeting Branikk and throwing pillows at him, thinking he was an actor on a reality TV show, seeing how green he waseverywhere, riding the Ferris wheel together, our first time in the wisteria grove, the picnic by the lake…

His face over and over, transforming from movie-star handsome to something far more real and special as I got to know him and fell in love.

One final image pops up of him against the backdrop of a Whirling Swings ride.

“The sluagh!” I jolt upright, my hands sliding across his chest and shoulders. “Did we—? Are you—?”

---