CHAPTER EIGHT（Untitled）Branikk

CHAPTER EIGHT

Branikk

I've been such a fool, rushing forward as I always do. I've already hurt my moon bound, and we only just met.

I leap to my feet, spilling blueberries everywhere as I reach for her.

She shies backward, her eyes wary.

"I—"

"Good, you're done eating," Aurora says, cutting across what I was about to say.

And what was I about to say? I don't even know. How can I fix this?

"We should get moving." The unicorn paws at the ground.

"I have to…" Grace flutters a hand toward the trees.

I scoop up the cleaning cloth and a waterskin and thrust them forward. "Take these."

She does so carefully, making sure our hands don't touch, and hurries into the pines.

A sharp tap on my shoulder makes me spin around. "What did you do this time?"

"I told her I love her."

"After only a few hours?" Aurora snorts. "That's not love. That's your cock."

"No, it's more than that." I've wanted women to warm my furs before, but not like this.

"Have you ever been in love?" Aurora spears me with a cynical blue eye.

I rub the back of my neck. "No."

"Then how do you know this is love and not infatuation?"

"I just know." I thump my chest. "And the Moon Goddess wouldn't have bound us otherwise."

"I don't think the goddess is the person you need to worry about. Focus on your bride."

Damn. She's got a point, as does Grace. I spoke without thinking. My parents knew each other for years before handfasting. Mother always says how important their friendship is, and I ignored all of that to leap straight to love.

But I love Grace… or I know I will love her, which is almost the same thing.

I'll simply have to win her over, woo her like the moving pictures she showed me, though I can't see how that was proper wooing—the small, human man only spoke to the woman for a minute before kissing her. Maybe that's what Grace wants, more kissing?

After pulling a small pouch from a saddlebag, I fill it with fresh blueberries. My bride loves them, and I will surprise her with them at the end of dinner. I must make sure to get only the juiciest of rabbits for our dinner. Everything will be perfect, and she will see the care I take of her.

I try to smooth over the awkwardness of the afternoon's ride by asking Grace questions about her world, her life.

She shows me more of the moving pictures on her magical device. Horseless carriages roar along hard-topped roads faster than even a unicorn can gallop. Other contraptions fly through the air. My bride swears they're not magic, but they must be.

Yet none of the things she shows me seem to have much to do with her. None of the people in the pictures are Grace.

"What about you?" I ask. "I want to know more about what you do in your world."

"I'm not that interesting."

Instead of arguing my point, I say, "Tell me."

"I'm a mechanic. I work on carnival rides."

Another new word I don't know. It feels as if the speaking stone's magic fails me.

"Show me on your phone?" This word I have learned.

She taps at the device, and a multi-colored metal thing spins on the screen, with many people trapped inside small boxes screaming with delight.

I grunt. "You are one of the people in the machine?"

"I'm not in the video. I'm the person who makes the machine work."

I listen to her, not understanding most of the words—pistons? lever arms? hexagonal wrenches?—but not needing to. What's clear is how much she loves her work and that she's good at it.

When she winds down, I ask, "Do you have moving pictures of you doing some of these things?"

"No." She leans forward, her back muscles going rigid.

My arm tightens around her, keeping her from going too far as Aurora continues to race through the forest.

"Why not?" I wish I could see my bride's face.

"I don't look good on camera."

Another new word, but I don't need a definition. Her tone tells me everything I need to know. "You are strong and beautiful."

She snorts in amusement, but the tension in her muscles relaxes a bit.

"I do not lie."

Grace twists enough to see me out of the side of one eye. "How about you? What do you do as an orc ?"

My knees grip the unicorn's sides as I pat the bow slung over my back. "I am one of my clan's hunters. I provide meat, furs, and leather for our village." Pride fills me to tell her this. It's an important job.

"So the bow's real?"

"It's fully functional." I unsling it and lay it in her arms so she can inspect it. If she has a love of mechanical things, she should be able to see the craftsmanship that went into my bow. "I made it myself. I have a bit of woodworking magic."

"You made this? It's well done." Her hand glides over the smooth yew wood, and I suppress a groan, wishing she stroked me with such obvious admiration. "I've shot little crossbow games before. But nothing like this."

"I'll teach you to shoot, if you like."

"Okay."

Perfect. I settle my bow on my back and pull her to me again, glad when she comes easily this time. The exotic scent of her summer hair teases my nose, and I breathe it in. "What is this scent you wear?"

"You mean perfume? I'm not exactly a perfume kind of gal."

So it's her scent that beguiles me so. I should have known.

"I know I always smell delightful!" Aurora says, tossing her head so her silver mane flashes through the air.

Grace laughs for the first time, and the sound pierces my heart.

She carries a sadness I don't like. I would have my bride laugh more.

"Show me more of your videos," I say, pronouncing the word carefully. "Show me more of the things you like."