CHAPTER FORTY（Untitled）Branikk

CHAPTER FORTY

Branikk

While the cu sith get acquainted with the new arrivals, I pull Grace to the side.

My bride looks up at me, her beautiful blue eyes wide and a little dazed. Is it meeting the dragon? He's not much of a dragon yet, for all his teenage growth. Just wait until Grace meets Drake's mother, Sheevora, who's as big as a cottage. Now there's a dragon.

I tuck a lock of escaped hair behind her ear, its soft touch making me want to bury my fingers in the mass of it as always. I ask softly, "Is everything okay?"

She blinks a couple of times and swallows. "Yep."

"I'm so glad you got to meet Ashley." All of the human women are friendly, but the warlord's sunny wife can win anyone over. Just look at what she did to Dravarr—I'd almost forgotten he could smile until she came into his life. "I know you must miss having human friends."

My moon bound's lips twist into something that's a pale imitation of a smile—there's no true joy in it. "Can't miss what you haven't got."

"How can that be?" I frown. "You're amazing."

"The carnival's always on the move, traveling around. You're never in one place for more than a week. Even the other workers tend to come and go. It's a temporary job for a lot of them, and it takes a while for me to warm up to people… or maybe it's for people to warm up to me." She gives a one-shoulder shrug. "Same difference."

It hurts to see the ghost of loneliness haunt her eyes.

"Then the Moon Goddess knew what she was doing when she brought you to Alarria, where we're all smart enough to know your worth." When she tries to dip her head, I raise her chin and look into her eyes. "Where I'm smart enough to know your worth. You are precious. You've been precious to me since the moment we met, and my admiration has only grown."

Her mouth softens, and I pull her to me, unable to resist holding her, letting her feel viscerally that she's no longer alone.

"We should have hunted by now," Rune's voice cuts through the clearing. "It's growing late, and there are many mouths to feed."

"We can make up for lost time." I turn from my bride with one last caress of her cheek and stride over to where I left my bow and quiver, slinging both onto my back. I cock an eyebrow at Dravarr. "Want to come?"

"By the goddess, yes. I'm ready to do anything but cling to a dragon's back."

"I'll have you know it's a very good back," Drake says.

"It's a wonderful back." Ashley gives the teen a pat on the neck. "And we're so grateful you flew Dravarr here, aren't we?" She shoots her husband a look and tips her head toward the dragon.

"We are." His lips twitch. "We also flew over a small herd of elk not far from here."

"They looked good." Drake launches into the air. "I'll hunt, too."

Then we're off, running through the forest, the cu sith ranging to either side as Dravarr leads the way. It's been a long time since I last hunted with another orc and even longer since that orc was Dravarr. Although we completed our initial warrior training together as teens, our paths split after that, with me focusing on learning to make bows and arrows while he learned leadership and battle strategies. Even though I'm usually the outgoing and talkative one when in the village, Dravarr's quietness fits with who I am here, in the forest.

It's exhilarating, the strong thump of my heart matching the softer strike of my feet hitting the ground. Although Dravarr and I don't have Krivoth's stealth magic, all orcs are Wild Fae who can tap into oneness with the forest.

We leap over ferns and duck low-hanging branches, moving like the wind. A feral grin stretches my lips away from my tusks, and Dravarr wears a similar expression. Every sound seems magnified—the rustle of a bird settling into its nest, the small stir of a rabbit under a bush, safe because we hunt larger game. The breeze brings the scent of deer to my nose, and I run harder.

A glen opens ahead, several bucks and does grazing within. The dragon's wings snap closed as he dives, hitting his mark and scattering the rest of the herd, sending a young buck bolting straight for us. My bow leaps into my hand, arrow already nocked, and I let fly, my magic needing to do little to make it find its mark.

Pack hunters working together, the cu sith bring down two elk of their own.

My eyes meet Dravarr's over my kill, the gleam of the wild shining in their dark depths. I know I look the same. A primitive satisfaction fills me, one written into the very heart of who I am. We will eat well tonight.

My bride will eat well.

The pups surround Grace and Ashley when we return to the dens, little bodies wiggling with so much excitement it looks as if their tails might fly off. The witches sit on the soft moss of the clearing, hands constantly moving as they pet one pup after the other.

Dravarr starts a fire while I carve six steaks, storing six more in one of the leather bags spelled to preserve food so we can have a hearty breakfast in the morning. I let Mist pick which part of the elk she'd like, and I offer the rest of the deer to the canine fae, who've gathered around their own kills a little way into the forest.

Riselda and the other parents call the pups to them, and I return to the fire to cook our meal.

Dinner is fresh meat and apples plucked straight from the tree, and everyone eats with gusto, Dravarr and I each finishing off two of the steaks. It's simple fare, but I could swear I've never tasted any food finer in my life when my bride offers me a happy smile.

I take a drink of water, then waggle the waterskin at Dravarr. "You couldn't have brought some ale?"

"I was more concerned with traveling light." He frowns. "The dragon youngling could barely carry me as is."

"Drake did fine. You just don't like flying." Ashley pokes his shoulder, then turns her bright smile on Grace. "Speaking of packing, I brought you a few things! The puppies distracted me, but…" She digs around in the pack and pulls out some orc made clothes. "The sizes probably aren't perfect. All Mist told us was that you were taller than Olivia."

The feline fae looks up from her post-dinner bath. "Clothes aren't something I need worry about since I have such glorious fur."

"You brought me clothes?" Grace stares down at the cloth in her hands, stunned. "You didn't know me."

"I knew you were new to Alarria just like I was a month ago." Ashley shrugs. "What more did I need to know? Us witches got to stick together."

Grace's fingers run over the linen shirts over and over, as if she still can't believe they're real.

I reach out and take her hand. "I will get you as many clothes as you want."

"And trust me." Ashley grins up at her husband. "You're going to need them. Orcs are hard on clothes. Especially panties."

"Irritating things," Dravarr growls, but there's no actual anger in his tone, and he looks at his moon bound as if thinking of her in nothing but her underwear.

Which makes me think of my bride in nothing but those little scraps of light pink. "We should go to bed," I growl, pulling Grace to her feet. "Tomorrow we might see battle."

"Why do I find it unlikely you will sleep?" Aurora snorts.

I shoot my friend a mock glare and say goodnight to everyone.

Yet when we reach our den, Grace is even quieter than normal.

I pull her into my arms on the furs, leaving the glow stone lit so I can see her face. "What troubles you?"

"Just thinking. We've been on the move since I got to Alarria, and on the move is how I've lived for a while now. But meeting Ashley and Dravarr…" Her fingers trace little patterns across my chest, her nails scratching slightly against the linen. "I don't know. It got me wondering about your village and what it will be like to live in one place all the time. What if I don't fit in?"

"Did anything happen that makes you feel you won't? Did Ashley say something?" My arms tighten around my moon bound. I can't imagine Ashley being cruel to Grace—she's not the type—but if she mistakenly said something…

"No, nothing like that." Grace traces more designs. "It's just me. I'm awkward, bad with people."

"They will love you." I take a breath, ready to tell her I love her.

But she gives her head a little shake, as if she can't believe anyone would ever love her.

My heart aches.

This is an old sadness that's dug its claws deep into my bride. Anything more I say right now will not be believed.

I tap the glow stone to turn off its light and pull her even closer, stroking a hand down her back. As much as I want to bed her, I can feel that's not what she needs at this moment.

Her body slowly relaxes against me, and I slow my caresses to match. When my bride's breathing finally deepens into sleep, the last of the tension leaves her, making it clear just how wound up she was previously.

My heart hurts that she carries such doubts.

"You are lovable." I whisper, pressing a kiss to her hair. The moment I met Grace, I knew the Moon Goddess bound us for life, and I loved my new bride with devotion to that belief and the idea that she was my moon bound. But it wasn't the same as actually loving her , the woman I now hold in my arms. The woman who works hard for others without complaint. The woman who'll stop and make a toy for younglings and play with them for hours. The woman who showed me the peace of simply being without needing to entertain, such as when we rode her Ferris wheel.

"You are already loved."

Now, how can I make her believe it?