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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

J essamin woke to sunlight streaming through her window, painting golden patterns across her bedchamber floor.

For a moment, she lay still, savoring the pleasant ache in her muscles and the lingering warmth in her core.

Ulric’s wild scent still clung to her skin.

He’d carried her back to her bedchamber the night before and stayed with her until she fell asleep, but she wasn’t surprised that he was already gone. His days started early.

She stretched languidly, a smile curving her lips as memories of the sacred springs flooded back.

The steam, the mineral-rich water, his powerful hands on her body, his mouth on her most intimate places…

And when he’d entered her, stretching her and filling her so completely, the sensation had been so intense, so overwhelming, that she’d thought she might go mad from the pleasure.

The thought that he could grow even larger was both exciting and a little intimidating, but she knew he’d never hurt her.

She would never forget the look in his eyes when he’d joined his body to hers—a mix of reverence and desire, of possessiveness and vulnerability. In that moment, she’d felt not like a princess or a queen, but a goddess, worshiped and adored.

A blush heated her cheeks. It was so wanton, the way they’d come together in that ancient, sacred place, but it felt so right, as though the gods themselves had ordained it. Perhaps they had.

“Thank you, Freja,” she whispered, closing her eyes in a brief prayer. A warm breeze curled around her shoulders again, even though her windows were closed, and she smiled.

For the first time since arriving in Norhaven, she felt truly at peace. The terrible weight of her secret had been lifted. Ulric knew about her connection to Lasseran and loved her anyway. The revelation that had terrified her for so long had ultimately freed her.

She rose and moved to her window, gazing out at the rugged mountains that surrounded the town. The landscape that had once seemed forbidding now appeared protective, sheltering. Norhaven was no longer her prison but her home, its king no longer her jailer but her heart.

Hope was a brilliant sun rising in her chest, warming places that had been cold for too long.

A soft knock at her door interrupted her reverie. She quickly wrapped a silk robe around her naked body.

“Enter,” she called, expecting one of her ladies.

The door opened to reveal Ulric instead, dressed in the plain training leathers he preferred. He carried a tray laden with food—fresh bread, honey, sliced fruit, and steaming cups of the spiced tea she favored.

“I thought we might break our fast together,” he said, a hint of uncertainty in his deep voice. “If you’re not otherwise engaged.”

The sight of the powerful orc king balancing a breakfast tray with careful concentration made her heart swell. This was a side of him few ever saw—tender, thoughtful, almost shy.

“I would like that very much,” she replied, gesturing to the small table by the window.

He set down the tray and pulled out a chair for her with formal courtesy, then took the seat opposite. For a moment, they simply looked at each other, both suddenly awkward despite the intimacy they had shared the night before.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“Very well,” she answered, a blush warming her cheeks. “And you?”

“Better than I have in years.” His golden eyes held hers, warm with affection, and the awkwardness suddenly disappeared, replaced by a comfortable, charged intimacy.

She reached for a piece of bread, and his big hand moved across the table to cover hers. The casual touch sent a pleasant shiver up her arm. His thumb traced small circles on her wrist, the simple contact more meaningful than elaborate courtly gestures.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “About Lasseran’s plot.”

“And?” She turned her hand to twine her fingers with his, marveling at how natural it felt.

“We’ve identified Elspeth as his agent, but there may be others. We need to be vigilant.” His expression darkened briefly, then softened as he looked at her. “But I won’t let fear poison what we’ve built. Not again.”

She smiled, squeezing his hand. “Never again.”

They ate in companionable silence for a while, exchanging glances filled with new understanding.

She found herself studying him openly—the silver threaded through his long dark hair, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiled, the way his tusks caught the light when he spoke.

He was beautiful to her in a way she hadn’t fully appreciated before.

“If you keep looking at me like that, little bride, I am going to forget about our meal and carry you back to bed.”

“And knot inside me?” she asked, a teasing note in her voice.

His eyes turned completely black and she knew his Beast was close to the surface.

“Will you show me your Beast?”

He hesitated, but before he could answer her, there was a sharp knock on the door. He immediately tensed, the stern mask replacing his relaxed expression.

“Enter,” he called.

The door opened to reveal Captain Grak, his weathered face grave. “Forgive the intrusion, Your Majesties. We’ve apprehended Lady Elspeth attempting to leave through the eastern postern gate. She carried this.”

He extended a sealed letter, and Ulric took it, his expression hardening as he read.

“What is it?” she asked.

“A report to Lasseran. Details of our reconciliation, of the security arrangements, of—” he paused, his jaw tightening, “—of our time in the sacred spring.”

Cold horror washed through her. “She was watching us?”

“She wasn’t in the grotto, but she was outside listening.” His voice was dangerously quiet. “She’s been taken to the cells. I’ll question her myself.”

“I want to be there,” she said firmly.

He studied her face, then nodded. “Very well. But first, finish your meal. You’ll need our strength.”

They ate quickly, the comfortable intimacy of earlier replaced by grim determination. As soon as they finished, he rose.

“I’ll wait in my study while you get dressed.” He hesitated for a moment. “Whatever we discover, remember this—what we have is real. Lasseran cannot touch what is between us.”

She reached up to touch his face, her palm against his cheek. “No, he cannot.”

He left and she dressed quickly, choosing a plain gown in Norhaven green.

Rather than take the time for the more complicated orc-style braids, she pulled her hair back into a single loose braid, then studied her face in the mirror.

Her face was paler than she would have liked, but she did her best to assume her usual calm expression.

She didn’t want to give the woman who had posed as her friend the satisfaction of seeing her upset.

She hurried out into the corridor, surprised to find it unusually quiet. Perhaps Ulric had already gathered his guards?—

The tapestry on the wall behind her suddenly rippled.

Before she had time to react, someone grabbed her and hauled her behind it, clamping a hand over her mouth to cut off her cry.

An arm like iron wrapped around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides as a panel slid back into place behind the tapestry.

She struggled wildly, but her captor’s grip was unyielding. From the shadows emerged another figure—a lean orc with jagged tusks and a deep scar across his face.

“I am Khorrek,” he said with a mocking bow. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

“But… but you’re an orc,” she whispered as the hand over her mouth disappeared.

“Indeed. But I am not one of the wild orcs of Norhaven. I am a servant of High King Lasseran. Your uncle sends his regards, Princess.”

Terror flooded her veins, icy and paralyzing. The hope that had filled her heart that morning shattered into fragments of fear.

“Bring her,” Khorrek ordered the person holding her. “Lasseran will be very pleased by our success. Don’t bother screaming, Princess,” he added as her captor started dragging her along the narrow passage. “These walls are quite soundproof.”

She obeyed but as they hauled her away, her mind screamed a single name, a desperate prayer that somehow, he would hear:

Ulric!