Page 39 of His Orc Lady

“Is that why you left the old kingdom?” he asks, brow furrowed. “To avoid that fate?”

“In part.”

I tug on the end of my braid again, then drop it, aware that it’s a nervous habit. I don’t want to tell Owen the next part of the story, but we’ve come this far, and he’s still holding me tightly in his lap, not running away.

“My father died when I was fourteen.” I take one of Owen’s hands and squeeze his fingers. I’ll need the support. “He was fond of warfare even though he might have been too old at the time to go out on campaigns. King Trak was always at war withsomeone, and that year, there had been a number of fae raids on the eastern border. The king sent a hundred warriors under my father’s lead to strengthen the garrison at the Draem outpost. Fewer than half of them returned, and my father was one of those who fell.”

Owen shifts me slightly in his lap and glances down. “What happened?”

I shrug. “They were ambushed. The fae king had had enough of orcs raiding their lands and sent a force much larger than King Trak anticipated.” I look up at him and try to smile. “I suppose what you said holds true—itisdangerous to go into battle unprepared.”

He shakes his head ruefully. “That’s not why I said it, Mara.”

“I know.” I lift my chin and brush a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “But that doesn’t mean you’re mistaken.”

He takes my hands between both of his and presses his palms together, a surprisingly comforting gesture. I can’t move my hands, but the warmth of him permeates through me, soothing my raw nerves.

“That was the real beginning of my issues,” I continue. I need to get the story out now, or it’ll forever remain stuck in my belly, a great lump of stone I’ve been carrying around with meall these years. “Whenever I went outside after that, I thought of what could happen. If a hundred warriors were ambushed and slaughtered, what chance did I stand? I was useless, after all.”

Owen takes a deep inhale, and I know he’s about to refute my statement, but I quickly pull my hand away from him and place it over his mouth.

“I know that’s not true,” I murmur. “But I thought so at the time. Anyone would have if they heard it often enough as a child.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you.” He kisses the inside of my palm, then leans into my touch, so much like a cat. “You are the most capable woman I’ve met in my life.”

I raise my eyebrows. “You’re basing that conclusion on what, exactly?”

He takes my chin and presses a firm kiss on my lips. “I’ve been observing you. The way you speak, the way you walk, the way you know what’s going on in the Hill at every moment of the day. Everyone I talked to seemed to hold you in the highest regard, from the kitchen staff to the blacksmiths to the king, young and old, they all told me to speak to you whenever I had a question about the clan.”

Heat rises in my cheeks, and I do my best not to preen. “They did?”

His smile lights up his eyes. “Oh, yes. I might have missed the fact that you’re the king’s cousin, but I knew you were too good for me from the start.”

I smack his chest lightly. “Stop that. I’m no better than you, Owen.”

“Hmm.” He kisses me again and sinks his teeth lightly into my lower lip. “I’m not complaining, just confused about why you chose me. Flattered, but confused.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to explain all about fated mates, but he deepens the kiss, slicking his tongue against mine, then pulls back, leaving me panting.

“I shouldn’t have interrupted your story.” He brushes back my hair, his fingers gentle on my skin. “Please, go on.”

I don’t want to. It’s not a nice story, and while Owen may think I’ve always been this capable, this respected, the truth is much different. But he deserves to know everything about me before he makes a decision that might very well change his life forever.

“After my father’s death, my mother was inconsolable.” I swallow, wondering how to explain the pain she’d been in without mentioning mates, then decide to simply forge on. “She’d loved him even though he was a difficult male, you see.”

“Of course,” Owen murmurs.

His agreement helps, and something loosens in my chest. Do humans also love like this, so deeply and completely, life ceases to exist when the relationship ends?

“She’d forget to eat and bathe, she’d sleep all day and wander the halls of the palace at night.”

I grip his hand again, digging my fingers into his skin. He holds me just as tightly, as if sensing I need the contact more than ever.

When I’m quiet for several long moments, Owen brushes his lips over my temple in a sweet, gentle kiss.

“Did she forget about you, too?” he asks.

There’s no judgment in his voice, no disgust at my mother’s actions, only concern—for me.

---