Page 56 of Bound to the Orc King

“Those are three different types of pizza,” Olivia calls out. “You should share, so everyone gets to taste them.”

The pixies start ripping off hunks of pizza and lobbing them at each other in the world’s tiniest food fight. They make a game of it, throwing high so the receiving pixies fly up into the air to snap up the morsels with their mouths. And their mouths… god, it’s almost like Shadow’s smile. The pixie mouths stretch open until they’re almost as big as their heads.

“By the goddess, that’s disturbing,” Starfall says, having come up behind me.

“I think it’s cute,” I say, unable to look away

She taps the top of my head with her horn. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

Back and forth, food flies, the pixies leaping higher and higher to catch the hurled bits. Soon the whole thing turns into a competition, the high screech of their whistles filling the glen. Pieces of pepperoni spin through the air like meat Frisbees, and whole black olives sail like little black footballs. The pixies in the middle, who have the five-cheese pizza, mold the mix of melted yellow and orange cheese into gooey spheres they send flying in both directions.

We’re all laughing, and I have to keep knuckling tears from my eyes, so I don’t miss anything. The orcs come over to watch with us, Brannik and Rovann whooping with delight, while the grumpier ones chuckle and grin.

Rune barks out a laugh, while Shadow’s sounds like a ratcheting purr, and the other grumpy unicorns drift close to get a better view.

Eventually, all the food disappears into those too-large mouths of theirs and the pixies look completely normal again. The leader whistles high and loud, and the flock gathers around him in a huddle that turns into an animated conversation full of piping voices and gestures so fast they look like someone hit fast-forward on a video.

“You totally have to do that with the pixies in the village,” Ashley says. “That is way too much fun.”

“You do know that as soon as I start it, they’ll want to do iteveryevening,” Olivia says.

“And the problem is?” Ashley grins back at her. “The village kids will love it.”

After one last set of really loud whistles, the pixies break apart. I get the feeling alotwas said in that short span of time.

“Thank you, Pizza, for your blessings of pizza.” The leader hovers in front of Olivia. “We have decided we like all the flavors and also enjoy this new game you have created for us.”

Olivia nods regally. “I have named it Pizza Ball.”

I bite my lip to hold in a giggle at the name. The pixies are so serious about all of this that I don’t want to ruin their special moment.

“We hope to play Pizza Ball again very soon.” He gives an elegant mid-air bow and flies to the waterfall, the other pixies following in a stream of flowing lights. They spread out and dance in the water spray, lighting it in a moving accompaniment to the glowing pink mushrooms.

“It’s so lovely,” Naomi says, her wide eyes reflecting the little lights.

I wrap an arm around her shoulders as we watch. “It is.”

When the pixies finish their showers, they come back and spread around the glen like blue fireflies.

Rovann picks up Olivia and spins her in a circle. “What doIhave to do to get pizza?”

“I’ll make sure you pay up later.” She pats his chest and shoots him a knowing look, then turns her head to say to the rest of us, “Let’s eat!”

The orcs start a campfire for light pull and more logs over so everyone can sit.

Olivia conjures paper sacks of oats for each of the unicorns. When she offers Rune and Shadow haunches of meat, they decline, saying they want to try “biped” food. Someone rustles up pants for them, and they both turn into men, who almost look human, only their pointed ears and fangs giving away their fae origins.

Sheevora joins us, as well as any of the guards not on watch.

“Got a favorite pizza?” Olivia asks me.

“I love lots of types, but tonight I’m going to go with a mix of what the pixies had: pepperoni, Kalamata olives, and extra cheese.”

“Good choice.” Olivia claps her hands, and her crystal necklace glows. Pizzas on unbleached cardboard trays appear on each of our laps, the rich smell of garlic and tomato making my mouth water. I take a bite and almost die. It’s so good, the perfect blend of yeasty crust, herby sauce, and cheese-covered toppings.

Beside me, Aldronn’s got one topped with sausage and red bell pepper, and I reach over and snag a bite of his meat.

When he shoots me a mock scowl, I offer him a piece of pepperoni. His lips brush my fingers as he takes it, sending a shiver of awareness through me. He must feel the attraction too, because his thigh presses to mine the entire time we sit eating and talking and drinking ale, lit by warm firelight and surrounded by friends.

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