Page 45 of The Orc's Promised Bride

Servants rushed past him, their faces tight with worry. One carried a bowl of steaming water, another clutched herbs to her chest. They disappeared up the main staircase toward Jessamin’s quarters. Several of the Brides were huddled in the garden, crying.

“What happened?” he demanded, catching the arm of a passing servant.

“The queen collapsed after breakfast. She burns with fever.”

The servant twisted free and hurried away. He stared after her for a moment, then grabbed one of the guards.

“You need to alert King Ulric. Now.”

The guard hesitated. “But-”

“Now!”

The guard shot a quick look at his face, then bowed and sprinted toward the gates.

He hurried back to their room, knowing that Jana would want to know what had happened, needing to find her. But when he threw open the door, the room was empty. Their bed had been neatly made, her nightgown draped across the end.

Where had she gone? And why hadn’t she waited for him?

He stalked through the convent searching for her but there was no sign of her anywhere. His Beast stirred beneath his skin, responding to the rising panic in his chest. Servants scattered before him, their frightened faces barely registering as he searched room after room.

By the time he burst into the corridor leading to Jessamin’s chambers, his claws had emerged. Two of her servants blocked his path, shrinking back as his eyes flashed black.

“Please, my lord. The healers are with her.” The older woman’s voice quavered. “We know you are searching for Lady Jana but she isn’t here.”

His Beast snarled at the delay, but he forced himself to pause.

“Do you know what happened to Jessamin?”

The women exchanged a quick look, and then the younger woman leaned towards him.

“The healers think she’s been poisoned.”

A red haze clouded his vision. The timing couldn’t be a coincidence. Jana must have discovered something - someone - who didn’t want their plans revealed.

His nails lengthened into claws as he fought to maintain control. His Beast wanted blood, he knew he needed his human mind to find her. She needed him thinking clearly, not lost to mindless rage. But gods help whoever had taken her - when he found them, he would let his Beast have its way.

CHAPTER 22

Jana wandered dreamily through the hallways of the convent, her fingers tracing the designs carved into the walls. She’d been too restless, too filled with happiness, to stay in bed after Lothar went to meet with the king. The thought of him brought another smile to her face. The previous night had been the most wonderful night of her life. She’d never known she could experience such physical pleasure - but it was much more than that. It was Lothar’s gentle touches, his fierce protectiveness, the way he’d held her after she’d shared her darkest secrets.

Several groups of women gathered in the courtyards and common rooms she passed. They sat in clusters, some working on needlework while others chatted animatedly. A few glanced at her curiously, but she kept moving, not ready to face questions or conversation. She wanted to hug her happiness to herself - and her experiences had taught her to be wary of groups, even seemingly welcoming ones.

The rear garden beckoned, its wild tangle of overgrown plants promising solitude. No one had started to clear this area yet and thick vines climbed crumbling stone walls while untamedroses stretched their thorny branches across forgotten paths. She picked her way through the tangled mass until she found a weathered stone bench tucked into a sunny alcove.

She had just brushed aside the flowering vines and settled onto the warm stone when a deep male voice carried from behind a dense thicket of flowering shrubs.

“You shouldn’t be here alone,” the voice rumbled, followed by a woman’s soft reply that she couldn’t quite make out.

She froze, her heart racing. Was there a reason why she shouldn’t be here either? She considered moving closer, but something about the male’s voice made her decide to stay silent rather than announce her presence.

She held her breath, straining to hear the conversation.

“We suspect that the king has grown too fond of Jessamin.” The male’s voice held an edge of menace. “And she has adapted too well to this marriage.”

“She’s always been adaptable,” the woman replied with a malicious laugh.

“She was not supposed to adapt to this. She was supposed to return to her father in tears.” A low growl punctuated his words. “The timeline must change. If she forms a true mate bond with Ulric, all our plans will be ruined.”

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