Page 28 of The Orc's Bonded Bride (The Five Kingdoms #3)
CHAPTER 28
L yric woke to the gentle rise and fall of Egon’s chest beneath her cheek. Morning light filtered through the shutters, painting golden stripes across the furs covering them. She kept her eyes closed, savoring the warmth of his body against hers, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. How strange that she’d found such peace here, among people she’d only just met.
When she finally opened her eyes, she found him watching her, his amber gaze soft with an emotion that made her heart flutter.
“You’ve been awake,” she murmured, tracing the line of a scar that curved along his shoulder.
“Watching you sleep.” His voice rumbled through his chest. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”
She stretched against him, enjoying the way his arms tightened around her. “Where else would I be?”
His smile faded. “I need to meet with Wulf before he leaves for Port Cael.” His thumb brushed across her cheek. “I don’t want to go.”
“But you must.” She pressed a kiss to his palm. “Your brother needs you.”
He nodded, reluctance etched in every line of his face. “What will you do?”
She sat up, pulling the fur around her shoulders. “Explore my new home, I think.” The word felt right on her tongue. Home. Not just a place she’d built for herself, but somewhere she belonged. “Your brothers’ mates offered to show me around yesterday. I might take them up on it.”
“They like you.” He rose from the bed, his massive frame silhouetted against the morning light. “I saw it in their eyes.”
“And I like them.” She watched him dress, admiring the play of muscles beneath his scarred skin. “Go. I’ll be fine.”
He knelt beside the bed, taking her face between his hands. “I won’t be long.”
“Take the time you need.” She leaned into his touch. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He kissed her then, deep and thorough, as if memorizing the feel of her lips against his. When he pulled away, his eyes had turned black.
“I’ll find you later,” he promised, voice rough with emotion.
After he left, she remained in bed, fingers pressed to her lips, heart full to bursting. For the first time in longer than she could remember, she felt truly at peace.
She finally slipped out of the warm furs, her bare feet padding across the cool wooden floor. The cottage was simple but sturdy—much like Egon himself. She pulled on her clothes, fingers lingering over the soft fabric of the tunic he’d given her the night before. It smelled faintly of pine and leather, comforting in its familiarity.
She made a circuit across the main room, taking in the details she’d missed in the whirlwind of their arrival. The hearth dominated one wall, blackened stones speaking of countless fires. Above it hung weapons—not for decoration but readiness. Practical. Necessary. A warrior’s home.
Near the window sat a rough-hewn table with two chairs. Only two. Her heart squeezed at the thought of him sitting here alone, night after night. She ran her fingers along the wood, feeling the nicks and grooves that told stories of solitary meals.
“This needs flowers,” she murmured to herself, already imagining wildflowers in a clay pot. Perhaps herbs hanging from the rafters, drying for winter. The scent of lavender and mint would soften the masculine austerity.
In the corner stood a shelf with few possessions—a carved wooden figure of what looked like a wolf, a worn leather-bound book, and a small knife with an intricately designed handle. She touched each item gently, learning pieces of Egon through the things he chose to keep, then opened their pack and added Samha’s orc statue and the pebble he’d given Egon. With the threat of Lasseran on the horizon she didn’t expect it would happen any time soon but perhaps one day they could return to her old cottage for a visit.
The cottage had only one other room besides the main living area—a small storage space with shelves of preserved foods and supplies. Practical again, but lacking warmth. She smiled, already planning how she might organize her honey stores there, perhaps add jars of preserves from berries she’d gather in summer.
She returned to the main room, standing in its center with hands on her hips. It needed color—perhaps a woven blanket for the bed, cushions for the chairs. Her fingers itched to create, to transform this space into something that belonged to both of them.
“It’s a good foundation,” she decided aloud. The cottage wasn’t just walls and a roof—it was the beginning of something new. Their home. A place where they could build a life together, away from the shadows of their pasts.
She was reaching for her cloak when a firm knock sounded at the door. She hesitated, suddenly aware of her unfamiliar surroundings. This wasn’t her cottage where she knew every visitor by their footsteps on the path. Here, she was the stranger.
Taking a steadying breath, she crossed to the door and pulled it open.
An elderly orc female stood on the threshold, her green skin weathered by age, deep lines framing eyes that sparkled with warmth. Her long white hair was woven into intricate braids and, despite her imposing height and the slight curve of tusks at her mouth, her smile was genuinely welcoming.
“So you’re the one who’s captured our Egon’s heart,” the female said, her voice surprisingly melodic. “I’m Merow. I serve as healer for our village.”
She found herself returning the smile. “I’m Lyric. Please, come in.”
Merow stepped inside, her gaze sweeping the cottage with obvious approval. “Jana mentioned you’re a beekeeper.”
“Yes,” she nodded, surprised at the mention of her craft. “I’ve kept hives for years.”
Merow’s face brightened. “The gods have blessed us, then. Just yesterday, I discovered a wild hive deep in the eastern woods. Strong and healthy, tucked away in an old oak.” She reached out, patting Lyric’s arm with a weathered hand. “A good omen, finding a thriving hive right before your arrival.”
“A wild hive?” She couldn’t hide her excitement. Starting over would be easier with established bees rather than having to capture a swarm. “Would you show me where?”
“Of course, child. That’s why I’ve come.” Merow’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “The old ways teach us that bees are messengers between worlds. Finding a hive as you join our community speaks of sweet beginnings.”
Warmth spread through her chest at the healer’s words. In her old village, her beekeeping had been appreciated only for its practical benefits. Here, this female understood their deeper significance.
“I’d like that very much,” she said softly. “But I’ll need your help in deciding on the best location for the hive.”
A short time later, she and Merow bent over the crude sketch she’d drawn in the dirt with a stick, pointing out where she thought the new hive would thrive best. Merow nodded approvingly, occasionally suggesting adjustments based on her knowledge of the local winds and weather patterns.
“The afternoon sun would warm them here,” she explained, indicating a spot near the southern edge of the cottage clearing, “but these trees would provide shade during the hottest part of summer.”
“Wise placement,” Merow agreed. “Our winters can be harsh. The windbreak will serve them well.”
Her mind raced with possibilities. “And here,” she continued, drawing another section in the dirt, “I could expand the garden. Plant more herbs, some vegetables. Maybe wildflowers to attract the bees.”
“The soil is good there,” Merow confirmed. “Rich and dark. Egon tried growing a few things last season, but?—”
“But I have no gift with growing things,” his deep voice interrupted from behind them.
She turned, her heart leaping at the sight of him approaching through the trees. His big body moved with his usual grace, golden eyes fixed on her with an intensity that still made her breath catch.
“How was your meeting?” she asked, rising to her feet and brushing dirt from her hands.
“Productive.” He glanced between her and Merow, a curious smile playing at his lips. “I see you two have been busy.”
She had a sudden attack of doubt. She’d been making plans, changing his space without asking. “I hope you don’t mind. Merow was showing me where a wild hive is located, and we started talking about where to place it and then about expanding your garden…” She gestured to her dirt drawings, feeling foolish now.
His expression softened as he approached, stopping close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. “Mind? Why would I mind?”
“It’s your home,” she said quietly. “I shouldn’t presume?—”
“Our home,” he corrected, his voice gentle but firm. One large hand reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “You can do whatever you want with it, Lyric. Plant an entire forest if it pleases you.”
Merow laughed. “I don’t think that will be necessary. But I’ll return later today with those seedlings—and a few willing hands to do some digging.”
“I can—” she began, but the healer waved a hand.
“Nonsense. We all help each other. Besides, it will help satisfy their curiosity about Egon’s new mate,” she added, eyes twinkling.
She watched Merow’s retreating form, her heart hammering in her chest. Mate. The word hung in the air between them, both thrilling and terrifying. She darted a nervous glance at Egon, unsure how he felt about Merow’s casual declaration.
His amber eyes met hers, warm with certainty. “Don’t look so worried,” he said, reaching for her hand. “I’m proud to introduce you as my mate.”
“You are?” The question slipped out before she could stop it, vulnerability lacing her voice.
“More than anything.” His thumb traced gentle circles on her palm. “Unless… you don’t want that?”
“No! I mean, yes, I do.” She shook her head, frustrated by her own jumbled words. “It’s just happening so fast. A few weeks ago, I was alone in my cottage, and now…”
His expression softened and he guided her over to sit on a fallen log near where she’d drawn her plans. He lowered himself beside her, his huge body dwarfing hers, yet she felt nothing but safe in his presence.
“I want a formal bonding ceremony,” he said quietly, his deep voice rumbling through the stillness between them. “Not just for the village to recognize what we are to each other, but for us. For you.”
Her breath caught. “A ceremony?”
“Among my people, when mates bond, they make promises before the gods and their community.” His gaze held hers, unwavering. “I want to make those promises to you, Lyric. I want everyone to know that you’re mine, and I’m yours.”
“I’ve never belonged to anyone before,” she whispered, the enormity of what he was offering washing over her. Not just a home or protection, but a place in his world, recognized and honored.
“Neither have I.” His fingers gently tilted her chin up. “But I want to belong to you, if you’ll have me.”
Her heart thundered in her chest as she looked up at him, his amber eyes holding nothing but sincerity. The word “mate” still echoed in her mind, filling her with a warmth she’d never known before. This fierce warrior wanted to bind himself to her—not just in private moments, but before his entire community.
“Yes,” she whispered, surprised by the steadiness in her voice. “I want that too.”
The smile that broke across his face transformed him. The hardened warrior melted away, revealing the male beneath—the one who had carried her heart for so many years.
“When?” she asked, her fingers intertwining with his.
“Soon.” He brushed his lips against her knuckles. “After the village completes preparations for the coming winter. We’ll have time to plan, to do it properly.”
She nodded, imagining what such a ceremony might entail. She knew so little about orc traditions, but the thought of learning, of becoming part of this community, filled her with quiet joy.
“Will you teach me?” she asked. “About your customs, what I need to know?”
“Of course.” His thumb traced the line of her jaw. “Though my brothers’ mates might be better teachers. They’ve walked this path before you.”
A gentle breeze rustled through the trees around them, carrying the scent of pine and earth. She closed her eyes briefly, committing this moment to memory—the solid warmth of Egon beside her, the promise of a future together, the unexpected peace she’d found in this place so far from where she began.
“I never thought I’d find this,” she admitted softly. “A place where I truly belong.”
His arm slipped around her waist, drawing her closer to his side. “You belong here, Lyric. With me. With us.”
She rested her head against his shoulder, allowing herself to believe in the certainty of his words. For so long, she’d built walls around herself, convinced that true belonging was beyond her reach. Now those walls had crumbled, stone by stone, replaced by something stronger—the foundation of a life shared with Egon.