Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Khorrek’s feet carried him down the corridor with a speed that bordered on desperation.
Away. Get away.
Thea’s taste still lingered on his lips—sweet and foreign and wrong. Wrong because she was a human and he was an orc. Wrong because she was Lasseran’s property. Wrong because he hadn’t been able to control his body’s response to her. Wrong because it had felt so devastatingly right.
His Beast snarled, furious at the retreat, and demanding that he return and claim what was theirs.
No.
He shoved the thought down hard, and locked it behind the iron discipline that had been beaten into him since he was a child. His Beast was simply a weapon, not something to obey, especially not about this.
The corridor stretched endlessly, each torch casting shadows that seemed to mock him. His breathing was still ragged, and his heart pounded like he’d been in battle instead of kissing a small human woman who should mean nothing to him.
Should.
Another growl from his Beast, but he ignored it.
He’d felt a flicker of something similar once before. He’d been fourteen or perhaps fifteen and one of the kitchen servants who brought meals to their barracks had smiled at him—not with fear or calculation, but with genuine warmth—and he’d been… tempted.
Lasseran found out, of course, and the girl had disappeared. The High King had told him she’d been sent to one of his other estates and he’d prayed that was true, even though the cold smile on Lasseran’s face had suggested otherwise.
He’d understood the lesson. He didn’t get to choose. Anything he wanted would be taken away. Better to never want at all.
But he wanted Thea with an intensity that was warm and terrible and impossible to deny.
Mate, his Beast snarled.
The savage orcs who inhabited Norhaven used that word for the bond that tied two souls together. He had dismissed it as primitive superstition. He was civilized, beyond such base instincts.
Yet his Beast persisted. Mate. Ours. Go back.
She’s human.
Ours.
She’s Lasseran’s.
OURS.
He slammed his fist into the wall. Stone cracked, and pain flared across his knuckles—sharp and clarifying. His Beast finally quieted.
He was a monster, a weapon. The humans in Kel’Vara feared him, and they were right to.
He’d killed for Lasseran and brought terror and submission in his wake.
It was what he’d been bred to be. Not for soft touches and curious grey eyes that looked at him without flinching.
Certainly not for a kiss that made him forget every oath he’d sworn.
She deserved better than a monster’s attention.
Their paths probably wouldn’t cross again. Lasseran would give him new orders, and send him far from Kel’Vara and the woman he’d locked in those luxurious rooms. The High King had what he wanted, and Khorrek’s usefulness in this particular matter was finished.
The thought should have brought relief. Instead, it felt like loss.
His Beast snarled again, furious and betrayed, and he pushed harder against it, forcing it down until it was just a whisper in the back of his mind.
You don’t get to decide. You never did.
He’d reached the central tower without realizing it, his feet carrying him down familiar paths while his mind warred with itself. Guards stood at attention outside Lasseran’s audience chamber, their expressions carefully neutral as they saw him approach.
They feared him too. Good.
He straightened and pushed the kiss into a box and locked it away. He was a warrior, Lasseran’s right hand in matters that required strength and intimidation.
He would report, receive his next orders, and move forward. He would forget her. Impossible, his Beast whispered, but he ignored it.
The guards opened the doors.
The audience chamber was empty except for Lasseran, standing at the tall windows that overlooked the city. Twilight painted the sky in shades of purple and gold, silhouetting the High King’s elegant frame. He was utterly still, like a snake deciding whether to strike.
“Khorrek.” Lasseran didn’t turn. “I trust your journey was successful.”
“Yes, High King.” He crossed his fist over his chest in salute. “The woman is secured in the rooms you prepared.”
“Unharmed?”
“Yes.”
“Cooperative?”
He hesitated. Cooperative wasn’t quite the word for Thea. Curious, perhaps. Stubborn and impossibly brave for someone who should have been terrified.
“She asked questions,” he said instead. “But caused no trouble.”
“Questions.” Now Lasseran did turn, and his pale blue eyes fixed on Khorrek with the cold intensity of a predator. “What sort of questions?”
“Where she was. Why she was brought here. What you want with her.”
“And what did you tell her?”
“That I didn’t know. Which is true.”
A slight smile curved Lasseran’s mouth, but it held no warmth. “How refreshingly honest of you.”
He remained silent. Years of training had taught him when to speak and when to simply wait. Lasseran enjoyed his games, but it was safer not to play.
The High King moved away from the window, his footsteps silent on the polished floor, and circled Khorrek slowly, like a buyer examining a horse.
“You’ve served me well,” Lasseran said.
“I live to serve you.”
Do I? There was a time when it had been true, but now there were… doubts.
“Do you?” The question was soft and dangerous. “I wonder sometimes, Khorrek, what thoughts move through that savage brain of yours. Whether loyalty truly binds you, or merely fear.”
His Beast stirred at the insult, but he crushed it down.
“I owe you everything.” That lesson had been beaten into him as well.
“Yes.” Lasseran stopped in front of him. “You do.”
The silence stretched between them, but he kept his expression neutral and his body in the correct position. Finally, the High King smiled, and this time it almost reached his eyes. Almost.
“I am pleased with your work. The woman should be exactly what I need, and you delivered her in a timely manner with minimal complications.” Lasseran turned away, moving to a side table where a crystal decanter sat. “Wine?”
“No, thank you, High King.”
“Ah yes. The savage palate prefers stronger spirits, doesn’t it?” Lasseran poured himself a glass. “No matter. Tell me, did she give you any indication of her skills? Her… aptitudes?”
He thought of her endless questions and her quick grasp of his language.
“She’s intelligent,” he said carefully. “She learned our language faster than should be possible, and she observes everything.”
“Excellent.” Lasseran sipped his wine. “She’ll need that intellect for the task ahead.”
The words hung in the air. He knew he shouldn’t ask, that he shouldn’t care what happened to one human woman, but the question forced itself out anyway.
“What task do you have in mind?”
Lasseran’s eyebrows rose fractionally. “Curious, are we?”
“I simply wish to know if my efforts served their purpose.”
It was a diplomatic answer, exactly the kind of response a loyal warrior should give, but Lasseran studied him over the rim of his wine glass. Those pale eyes stripped away pretense like flesh from bone.
“A simple translation from an ancient text,” the High King said finally. “It’s forgotten knowledge, but it’s nothing that should trouble her if she’s as intelligent as you say.”
“And after?”
“After?” Lasseran’s smile widened. “That depends entirely on her success. The reward for obedience is generous. The consequences for failure… Well. Let us hope she’s motivated to succeed.”
Ice settled in his stomach. He knew that tone. He’d heard it directed at others who’d disappointed the High King or outlived their usefulness. Their bodies were never found.
His Beast roared inside him, furious and protective. Ours. Protect. Keep safe.
His hands started to clench into fists, but he forced them to relax, just as he forced his voice to remain level when he responded.
“I’m certain she will serve you well, High King.”
“Indeed.” Lasseran set down his glass. “Which brings me to my next point. I’m assigning you as her personal guard.”
He almost staggered.
“High King?”
“Is there a problem?” The mild tone couldn’t hide the deadly note.
“I… no. Of course not.” His mind raced. Guard duty meant constant proximity, watching over her while she worked on whatever task Lasseran had planned.
No. No.
“I simply thought that perhaps I could be more useful—”
“Are you questioning my judgment?”
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees, and he immediately bowed his head.
“No, High King.”
“Good.” Lasseran’s voice remained pleasant. “You’ve already established a rapport with her. She trusts you, or at least she’s comfortable in your presence. That will make the transition easier.”
Trust. The word tasted like ash in his mouth. She’d kissed him, and he’d fled like a coward. Whatever trust she’d offered, he’d betrayed by locking her in those rooms and running.
“She doesn’t trust me,” he said.
“Then make her.” Lasseran’s tone sharpened. “Your job is to ensure her cooperation, by whatever means necessary. Am I understood?”
Ensure her cooperation.
The implications were all too clear—he was responsible, not just for guarding her, but for keeping her obedient and focused on her task.
And if she refused? If she failed?
The consequences would fall on her, but the blame would fall on him.
His jaw tightened, but he bowed his head again.
“I understand, High King.”
“Excellent.” Lasseran crossed to his desk and retrieved a key. “You’ll need this for her rooms. I had the locks changed—only you and I have access now.” He held out the key with a cool smile. “Consider it a symbol of the trust I’m placing in you.”
Trust. More like a collar and chain, binding him to this impossible task.
But he took the key, the metal cold and heavy in his palm.
“We’ll visit her together in a few hours,” the High King continued. “Give her time to bathe and compose herself. I want her… presentable when I explain her purpose.”