Page 29 of The Orc's Bonded Bride (The Five Kingdoms #3)

CHAPTER 29

E gon’s hands wouldn’t stay still. He adjusted the ceremonial leather vest his brothers had given him, then smoothed it down, only to fidget with the clasp moments later. The village clearing buzzed with activity as orcs and humans alike prepared for the bonding ceremony.

“You’ll wear a hole in that if you keep fussing,” Lothar said, clapping him on the shoulder.

He grunted. “Never thought I’d be standing here.”

Wulf approached, his expression a mixture of happiness and concern. He’d returned just yesterday from Port Cael, and though he smiled for his brother, shadows lurked behind his eyes.

“How does it feel?” Wulf asked, straightening his collar. “The Beast inside—is he calm?”

“For the first time in my life.” He gazed across the clearing where female villagers were helping Lyric prepare. He couldn’t see her yet, but knowing she was there settled something deep within him. “It’s like he knows she’s ours now.”

Wulf nodded, but his mind seemed elsewhere.

“Something happened in Port Cael,” He said. Not a question.

Wulf’s jaw tightened. “Ulric and Jessamin—it’s complicated. But today isn’t about that.”

“Tell me.”

“Later,” Wulf promised. “This is your day, brother. The day none of us thought would come.”

He looked down at his scarred hands. “I still don’t understand why she chose me.”

“Because she sees what we’ve always seen,” Lothar said. “A warrior with honor. A brother worth following.”

Wulf nodded. “The gods brought her back to you for a reason.”

The ceremonial drums began, deep and resonant. The village elder stepped forward, and the crowd parted.

Egon’s breath caught. Lyric walked towards him, dressed in a simple white gown adorned with wildflowers and honeycomb patterns. Her hair had been arranged in the traditional orc braids, crowned with a wreath of flowers. She smiled at him—not the shy, hesitant smile from their childhood, but one full of certainty and promise.

His Beast rumbled with satisfaction, and for once, he agreed completely with its assessment. This female was theirs to protect, to cherish, to love until the end of their days.

His throat tightened as Lyric approached. His Beast—usually restless, dangerous—purred with contentment. She moved with quiet grace, her simple white gown catching the late afternoon light. The village square fell silent except for the steady rhythm of ceremonial drums.

How had this happened? Weeks ago, he’d been convinced he was meant to walk alone. The scars that mapped his body were proof enough that he wasn’t meant for tenderness. Yet here she stood, looking at him as though he were something precious.

“You’re staring,” she whispered when she reached him, her green eyes bright with amusement.

“Can’t help it,” he said gruffly.

The village elder began speaking, but he barely heard the words. His focus narrowed to Lyric’s face, to the subtle changes time had carved there. No longer the frightened waif from Kel’Vara, she now carried herself with quiet confidence. She’d built a life from nothing, just as he had.

Perhaps that was why they fit together—they were both familiar with broken pieces.

When it came time to speak the binding words, his hands trembled slightly. Not from doubt, but from the weight of what he was being given. A second chance. A future he’d never dared imagine.

“I am yours,” he said, the traditional orc vow falling from his lips. “In battle and in peace, in darkness and in light.”

He added his own words, ones he’d practiced in private: “I will guard your heart as fiercely as I guard your life.”

Her eyes glistened, her smile radiant, as she squeezed his hands, her small fingers strong against his calloused palms.

“I am yours,” she echoed, her voice clear in the hush of the gathering. “In solitude and in community, in loss and in gain.”

Then it was her turn to add her own promises, and his chest tightened. “I will heal the places you’ve kept hidden, and hold your secrets as carefully as you hold mine.”

She leaned up, her lips brushing his ear. “You’ve always had my heart,” she whispered. “And now you have everything else, too. All that I am, Egon.”

He swallowed thickly, overcome. In the distance, the drums continued their steady beat, but all he could hear was the pounding of his own heart, echoing hers.

The ceremony continued around them, but he was lost in her, in the realization that they belonged to each other completely. When the village elder finally announced them bonded, the gathered orcs let out a roar of approval. He lifted Lyric into his arms, her laughter ringing out like music. For the rest of the evening, they would celebrate with their community, but tonight, when they were alone, he would show her exactly what those vows meant. She was his home now, and he was hers. Nothing, not time or distance or the scars of their pasts, could change that.

He watched the celebration unfold around him, the bonfire’s glow painting the village square in amber light. He’d never seen so many of his kind smiling at once. The long tables groaned under platters of roasted meat, fruit, and honeyed bread—a feast worthy of the old tales.

His gaze found Lyric across the clearing, surrounded by Merow, and Amabet, and Jana, laughing as they taught her the steps to a traditional dance. The sight of her—now his mate—still stunned him. The Beast inside him, usually restless and dangerous, lay content for once.

“Your face might crack if you keep smiling like that,” Lothar teased, sliding onto the bench beside him.

He grunted, not bothering to hide his happiness. “Let it crack.”

He accepted a tankard of mead from a passing server, watching as several young warriors approached Lyric with respectful nods. They kept a careful distance, but their eyes shone with hope. Not for her—she was his now, marked and mated—but for what she represented.

“They look at her like she’s a sign from the gods,” he said quietly.

Lothar followed his gaze. “She is. We all are. Three brothers, three mates.” He gestured toward the celebrating warriors. “They believe if the gods blessed the sons of the chief, they might be next.”

He understood that desperate hope all too well. He’d carried it himself, buried beneath layers of resignation and duty. Even now, part of him couldn’t believe his good fortune.

“I never thought—” His voice roughened. “I was certain I would die alone.”

“Yet here you are,” Lothar said, raising his cup. “The most stubborn of us all, with the most unexpected mate.”

Across the square, Lyric looked up and caught his eye. Her smile, warm and certain, reached across the distance between them. He felt something tighten in his chest—not the Beast stirring, but something else. Something that had been broken for so long he’d forgotten it could heal.

“Go to her,” Lothar said, nudging him. “Your mate is waiting.”

He rose, moving through the crowd of celebrating orcs who clapped his shoulders and raised toasts as he passed. He understood their joy, their renewed hope. After generations of dwindling numbers and few females, change was coming. The impossible had happened three times now.

She was practicing the steps of the dance, her body swaying in perfect rhythm with the drums. When she extended her hand to him, he hesitated only a moment before joining her. His movements were stiff at first—he’d never been one for celebrations—but her smile encouraged him.

“You’re better at this than you think,” she whispered, her fingers intertwining with his.

The firelight caught in her hair, transforming the chestnut waves into liquid copper. His chest tightened. His. She was his now.

His Beast stirred, not with the usual restless hunger, but with impatience. They’d had their ceremony. They’d shared in the feast. But now—now he wanted her alone.

Without warning, he swept her into his arms. She let out a surprised laugh that warmed him to his core.

“We haven’t finished the dance,” she protested, though her arms wound around his neck.

“We’ll finish it later,” he growled, already carrying her through the crowd. Their people parted with knowing smiles and good-natured calls that made Lyric bury her face against his chest.

The path to his cottage—their cottage now—was lined with torches. Inside, someone had scattered wildflowers across the floor and lit dozens of beeswax candles that filled the air with honey-sweet scent. But he barely noticed any of it. His focus had narrowed to the woman in his arms, her heartbeat fluttering against his chest.

He set her down gently, his hands lingering at her waist. “Wife,” he said, testing the word.

Lyric reached up to touch his face, her fingers tracing the scar that ran from his temple to his jaw. “Husband,” she answered, her voice soft but certain.

She rose on her toes, pressing her lips to his. When she pulled back, there was something in her eyes he couldn’t read. She took his hand, and led him over to the bed. He followed her eagerly, but when they reached it, she didn’t turn to him with her usual inviting smile. Instead she gave him an uncertain look, her fingers twisting together nervously until he wrapped his hand around them.

“What is it, little bee?”

“I—” She took his hand and placed it flat against her stomach. “I’m carrying your child.”

The world stopped. He stared at her, unable to process the words. A child? His child? Their child?

“Are you certain?” he managed, his voice rough.

She nodded. “Merow confirmed it.”

Joy surged through him, followed immediately by fear. His own hands, massive and scarred, could snap a man’s neck without effort. How could such hands ever hold something as fragile as an infant? What if his Beast frightened the child? What if?—

“Stop that,” she said, reading his thoughts. “You’ll be a wonderful father.”

“How can you know that?” The question escaped before he could stop it.

“Because I know you.” She pressed her palm to his chest, right over his heart. “Our child will love you just as much as I do.”

He gathered her close, overcome. Her faith in him—this unwavering belief that he could be more than a weapon, more than a Beast—humbled him. He kissed her deeply, pouring everything he couldn’t say into the gesture.

As they sank onto their bed, his hands gentle despite their size, the Beast inside him settled completely. For the first time in his life, he knew peace.