Page 52 of Bound to the Orc Guardian

“And lead us back out again,” Sturrm growls.

“Good catch, orc,” Dash says.

The gnome bares his teeth at Sturrm in something… not really a smile.

A frisson runs through me. The gnomes look so cute, but they’re still fae, and along with Sturrm’s warning, I also remember many of Abuela Abigail’s stories were full of fae trickery.

The gnome gives a sharp nod. “We will lead you back to the closest dragon cave,”

“That will do,” Bella says. “I can get us out from there.”

I grin at all of them. “Let’s do this!” I’m ready to do anything to pull Sturrm out of his funk and get him to look to the future instead of the past.

A future I damned well plan to be in.

Since we’re already stopped, Sturrm and I eat a quick lunch of travel biscuits. I feel bad that Bella and Dash don’t have anything, but she hunted for a big breakfast, and Dash says his smaller form can get by on what he grazed that morning.

In only a few minutes, we’re ready to head out again. Only this time is nothing like before.

The gnomes offer to carry us to the crystals, and I almost say yes, but Sturrm’s huge hand grips my shoulder as he frowns down at me. “Their magic allows them to travel through dirt and rock without harm, and they can carrythings with them, but none ofushave gnome magic. None of us can breathe when encased in solid rock.”

“What?” I spin to gape at the gnome. “You were going to let us suffocate after I helped you?”

“Not enough to kill you.” The little man scowls, but he needs more practice. He’s got nothing on Sturrm. “You might pass out, but even with the time it took you to wake, we’d still get you to the crystals faster.”

“My healing magic might protect me from it,” I say slowly as my mind turns over all the options. “Then I could heal all of you.”

“Dragons can hold their breath for a very long time.” Bella bobs her head. “It’s only one of the ways we’re better than inferior beings.”

“Call me inferior again…” Dash kicks backward, his hoof striking the wall with a deep thump that speaks of the incredible power in his stocky pony body.

Bella lifts her wings, a curl of smoke escaping her opening mouth.

“No,” Sturrm snaps, cutting across their bickering. “There will be no guesses or ‘mights.’ I will not risk you unnecessarily. We will walk.”

“Okay, you’re right,” I say.

It turns out the gnomes don’t do anything as simple aswalk. They tumble and flip like a group of Olympic hopefuls being put through one of those way too rigorous gymnastics classes where the coaches shout a lot. Only the gnomes are having a lot more fun than any of the little girls I used to walk past on my way to swimming lessons.

The glowing moss caps remain stuck to their heads, so the tunnel in front of us becomes a swirling mix of bright slashes of pink, lavender, and light green. I wish I had my phone and could do one of those long-exposure photos that look like light painted on the air. The gnomes would make amazing designs. With all of them tumbling in front of us, we barely need the glow stones.

Sturrm still holds his though, walking with it clasped in the same hand that carries the map. He keeps trying to figure out where we are, in that protective way he has.

I gave up hope of knowing where I am long before we met the gnomes. Orientation is so not my thing. We’ll simply have to trust them to do what they said they will. And if they don’t, Sturrm will find a way. Even if he doesn’t trust in himself, I trust him. He’ll never let anything bad happen to me.

I just need to make him see himself as I see him, competent and experienced and strong.

The gnomes lead us away from the types of tunnels we’ve been traveling in, and the smooth walls of lava tubes give way to twisty narrow passages and caves full of stalactites and stalagmites.

We stop for the night in another moss-lit cavern, only this one is full of pointed rock cones rising from the ground and hanging from the ceiling like we’ve stepped inside the toothy mouth of some great beast.

A stream runs across the side of the space, and Sturrm crouches to refill the waterskins.

“Don’t you have to worry if there might be a harmful microorganism in the water?” I ask. It’s something that’s been bugging me.

“Orcs are too mighty for little… organisms.” He snorts. “Besides, the leather’s been spelled to keep the water fresh and sweet.”

“Is that something your magic can do?”

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