Page 70 of His Orc Lady

“Hello, wife,” he murmurs.

I squeeze his hand. “Hello, husband.”

Gorvor is the first to congratulate us, pulling us both into a big, warm embrace. If Owen is surprised by the king hugging us, he hides it well and gives my cousin a thump on his back. Then the others line up, a procession of well-wishers, so many people who have come to be here with us on this beautiful day.

The feast begins soon after, on the meadow below the main gate. Dawn and Jasmine have thought of a perfect way to lessen the anxiety I still experience when I’m outside for too long—they set up a tent for the wedding party, made of thick burgundy cloth, and its dark canopy is just enough for me to feel safe while I’m also distracted by Owen and all the guests.

If I allow myself to think about where I am too much, my mind brings up all the horrible things that could happen to me—and my loved ones—outside the Hill. But now that Owen and I have been practicing daily, I can stay outside for a while without breaking down in a nervous sweat. When Owen had to return to Ultrup with Willow to officially resign from the Duke’s Army, I kept up the habit of going outside with the help of my friends. I would ask Poppy to sit with me, and she’d let me cuddle baby Juniper for a while. Or Dawn would take me along on a stroll with Arvel, where we’d end up in the meadow, having a picnic while surrounded by at least three of the king’s personal guards. I’ve also started visiting Ivy and Korr for tea every week or so, because being in their cottage is easier than standing out in the open. And besides, Korr understands my affliction all too well and has given me some suggestions to help me through difficult times.

When Owen returned from Ultrup, I waited for him outside the main gate, and his joyful grin when he saw me standing there was worth all the effort I’d put into my practice.

Now all the people who have helped me have come to celebrate with us, and I thank each and every one of them because I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for them. I may have lost my parents—orcs who loved each other deeply but didn’t understand their daughter very well—but I gained a family. And no matter what, they’ve always stood by my side, and I know they’ll continue to do so in the future.

Owen leans in, his gaze soft. “Remember Ozork and Willow’s wedding?”

I lift my eyebrows. “How could I forget?”

“You told me you’d dance with me another time,” he reminds me.

I shift in my seat so I can face him more fully. “What are you on about? We’ve danced at the winter solstice celebration as well as the spring ball.”

It’s not that I don’t want to dance with him right now—I most definitely do—but he’s acting as if we’ve never done this before.

“Yes, but we’ve never danced at awedding.”

“Is this your roundabout way of asking me to dance?” I poke him in the arm. “And how much mead have you had? I saw Vark pouring you a cup earlier.”

He shakes his head. “I switched my cup with his when he wasn’t looking. I’ve had some, but the last thing I want to do on our wedding night is to pass out trying to out-drink an orc.”

I glance to the open meadow where Vark is dancing with Hazel among the other wedding guests. They’re swaying lightly, hugging tight, and after a moment, it becomes clear Vark is holding Hazel off the ground as her feet aren’t even touching the grass.

I snort in amusement. “That was a good idea.”

Owen stands and offers me his hand. “Well, wife? What say you?”

I put my hand in his and let him pull me to my feet. “I like it when you call me that.”

My voice comes out as a low murmur, more seductive than I thought it would be, but now that I’m thinking about it, I can’t stop my mind painting the picture of what it will be like when he calls me that while we’re in bed together.

Owen’s gaze darkens. “I like it, too.” He leads me into the crowd and pulls me into his arms, so close our toes are almost touching. “Have I told you yet that you’re the most beautiful woman in the world?”

“Mm, you have.” I lean in and kiss his cheek. “But maybe not today.”

He turns his head toward mine and sniffs my hair. “Well, you are. And you smell so good, too.”

I’m about to reply when the slow tune we’ve been dancing to changes to a lively song that has all the guests exclaiming and cheering. The group of musicians on the small stage sing along with the crowd, and suddenly, we find ourselves pulled into a country dance, the circle expanding with every orc and human who joins the celebration. Owen’s siblings are among the dancers, as are most of our friends from the clan, both young and old.

The circle breaks down into couples, and I find myself dancing with Steagor, then Ozork, then Ritta and Taris, with Ozork again, then Neekar, who spins me around until we’re both dizzy and laughing. My hair is a mess by the time I scent anise and cedar again and grip Owen’s hand tight so I don’t lose him again.

“Are you thirsty?” he shouts over the noise of the crowd. “We could sit and rest for a while…”

I shake my head, grinning up at him. “No, but I think this is the perfect moment to escape!”

Owen’s gaze sharpens, and he surveys our dancing clansmen with a soldier’s efficiency. “Come on, let’s duck under here…”

I cling on to his hand as he dives between dancing couples and winds his way around the tables holding the remnants of our wedding feast. Earna, Carrow, and the rest of the kitchen staff have really outdone themselves, and so many others have helped, both with setting up the tables, picking flowers for the table arrangements, and minding the small children who would have grown bored during the ceremony.

Everyone pitched in, and for a moment, I feel a twinge of guilt at leaving the party so abruptly—and then I remember that my clan will see our escape as completely natural because we’re fated mates, and this is expected of us.

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