CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

The two ogres pound at me mercilessly, one striking after the other until all I can do is block and block again without being able to counterattack. Their goal is clear—they wish to wear me down before moving in for the easy kill.

Unfortunately, it's not a bad plan.

My muscles burn with every movement, my chest rising and falling like a bellows as I try to suck in enough air. Yet my warrior discipline does not fail me. I hold my form and keep the two larger and stronger opponents off me, the flash of my moon steel sword pure and true.

Then Taylor's anguished cry of "No!" echoes through the clearing and across my nerves, jerking me around.

I can't even see her past a solid wall of kelpie. My moon bound! My bride!

Pain bites into my thigh, spinning me to face my foes right when a huge thunderclap sounds behind me.

My sword flashes, slicing over the throat of the ogre holding the battleaxe. She lets go of the haft to slap her hands over her throat instead of yanking the axe head out of my leg. Leaving it lodged in the wound not only disarms her, it also keeps my injury from bleeding profusely and weakening me further.

Another loud slap of sound from behind me makes me try to turn, and I put too much weight on my injured leg.

Pain, so white hot it's blinding, sizzles through me, locking my muscles. I gasp. By the time my sight clears, long seconds have passed, an eternity in a fight.

The ogre from the standing stone leers at me, his mace raised overhead. "Your pretty little human's mine now, orc. I'm going to—"

The remainder of his words become inaudible as another crack of thunder lifts all three of us off our feet and sends us flying.

"Krivoth, please," Taylor sobs as I swim up from darkness. "Please. I'm sorry."

Something jerks at one of my legs with a feeling of pressure. Then soft hands pat at my chest, my face, reminding me I have a body. It roars to life only seconds later, screaming a litany of pain.

I groan, and crack my eyes open to find Taylor leaning over me, the messy pouf of her hair haloed by the bright blue sky above.

"Oh, thank god," her voice breaks, her face crumbling into fresh crying.

"You used your magic," I say. I'm flat on my back, and the trees cutting across the sky to my right make it clear how far she threw me.

"I'm so, so sorry. There wasn't any time to do anything else."

"What did I tell you?" My hand's heavy, but I force it up so I can brush my fingers over her cheek, wiping away her tears. "I don't mind when you knock me off my feet."

She makes a hiccupping sound, half laugh, half sob.

"Though it usually comes with the added benefit of you on top of me," I say.

"We can arrange that." Taylor offers me a watery smile and presses her hand over mine, holding it to her face.

"No, we cannot," Storm snaps. "We're too exposed here. What if they weren't alone?"

"Relax, unicorn." Mist limps over. "If they had backup, they would have used it by now. Ogres don't do restraint."

I grunt and catch the unicorn's eye. "Mist makes a good point."

"Of course I do."

"But," I raise my voice, "so does Storm. We should get to shelter."

Taylor looks around at the wide open space in front of the hexagonal cliff. "Or at least a more defensible place. Let me get the medical supplies to get you ready to move." She stands to trot over to where we left the saddlebags.

I roll my head from side to side. All of our foes lay still on the ground. I catch Storm's eye. "What happened to the ogres?"

"Mine's taken care of." He swishes his horn through the air, the last several inches of it black with ogre blood. "And the one you caught in the throat is dead. But one got away."

"Let me guess." I scowl. "The one with the diagonal scar across his torso."

"He scampered into the trees as soon as he regained his feet."

I look at Mist. "And the kelpies?"

She raises a paw and gives it a lazy lick, extending sharp claws. "Not an issue."

I grunt. At least the cowardly ogre won't have a mount to aid his journey. Yet part of me knows he won't give up until he has my moon bound bride. I only saved her this time because I had such good warrior training from my mother. And because I had such good battle mates. "Thank you both."

"Taylor did a lot of it, even if she didn't strike every killing blow," Mist says.

"Every?" My bride returns with the saddlebag, her expression tightening. "You mean I… I killed someone?"

"You can claim one kill as your own." Mist's paw jabs toward one of the downed kelpies.

Taylor doesn't say anything as she digs out the medical pack Gerna made for me. Having an herbalist for a sister does come in handy.

I sit up and hiss as a mixture of pain and pressure pinches my thigh. The axe is gone from the wound, but it bleeds slowly because someone tied a tourniquet around the leg above it.

Reaching out, I pluck up one of her busy hands to make her look at me, her beautiful brown eyes troubled. "It is the reality of battle. Victory can only belong to you or your foe. Never regret that you are the one to live."

"Thanks." She offers me a wavering smile, her upbeat nature trying to shine through. "I've done it a million times in games, but never…" She stops, her eyes darting to the bodies all around until I give her hand a little squeeze that returns her attention to me. "Never for real."

Then she pulls her hand from mine to unpack supplies, her movements fast and focused.

"Do we have time for this?" Storm asks. "The deathsleep dispersed. We can travel through the passage now."

"We're making time." My moon bound frowns up at him. "Krivoth can't ride like this! He'll bleed out."

"Maybe not." I shove at the ground, trying to rise, and she claps a hand to my shoulder and leans with all her weight against it until I settle back onto the grass.

Taylor offers me a wry twist of her lips and says, "Sorry about this." Then she uses the knife I gave her to slice open the hole the axe left in my leather pants. Her hands are as gentle as can be as she uses water and the magic of the cleaning cloth to clean the wound. Under my instructions, she packs it with the strongest healing salve my sister makes and sews it shut with rather uneven stitches.

"That's going to scar," Mist looks over from licking one of her own wounds.

"Sorry," Taylor grimaces and waves the needle. "I did a whole first aid certification for a game once, so I learned a lot of theory, but that's not the same as actually having to do this kinda stuff."

"You're doing well," I say.

Storm adds, "If doing it a little slowly."

It's untrue—if anything, her movements seem rather fast and driven.

But he's been standing as lookout the whole time Taylor works on me, and even keen fae eyesight can only penetrate so far into the shadows of the forest.

My moon bound cuts off a rectangle of magic-infused waterproof bandage and presses it over the wound, holding it down until it sticks to my skin. Then her beautiful brown eyes meet mine. "I don't know what else to do."

"You've done plenty." I sit up, capture her hand again, and bring it to my lips.

Taylor's bow-shaped mouth falls open in surprise.

"You were amazing," I say, the words coming easily. They're what I've always wanted to hear spoken to myself, after all. "You mastered your power and fought well. You saved me. I'm proud of you."

Her lips tremble, then break into a huge smile right before she throws her arms around me hard enough to almost knock me back to the ground. Not that I'd mind. I hold my bride to me, reveling in her sweet smell, until Storm gives a pointed snort that breaks us apart.

"How about you two?" Taylor waves the pot of herbal salve at the other two fae. "Need any doctoring?"

"I'm fine," Mist says. "I don't want any of that in my fur."

"I will heal on my own," Storm says, even though he has numerous axe slashes and even one set of gouges from a mace. "Let's go."

I understand. Like him, I have several smaller wounds, but they can wait. Orcs are built tough.

This time when I push upright, I'm able to get my good leg under me and come all the way to standing.

Taylor brings the saddle and the other bag over, and I reattach everything to Storm, then lift her onto his back. Even with my good leg bearing my full weight on the stirrup, I bite down a grunt of pain as I swing my injured leg over.

We move across the clearing, Storm and Mist limping, nursing their own injuries.

But we'll heal.

Victory soars through me, warming my blood. I pull my bride flush to my chest, reveling in the feel of her. Taylor tapped into her warrior power and saved my life today.

The Moon Goddess truly blessed me with such an amazing bride.

I love Taylor more than ever, and I vow to woo her.

This time I will not fail.