CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Dragons! So fucking arrogant. My lips pull back from my tusks in a snarl. How dare she declare orcs beneath her notice!

Storm gallops forward, the land descending before us as we leave behind the Honeycomb Hills. The Skular Woods sit in a pocket of forest at the end of the Dular Mountain range and the start of orc lands. I would have been here over a week ago if the Moon Goddess hadn't summoned me to a completely different location to find my bride. It's strange to think that I'm now closer to my village than I was when I found Taylor, and the grove holding the violet trifolia will be even closer still.

As I hold my moon bound in my arms, the rage stoked by the dragon's words finally cools. Taylor's brown hair floats up to tickle my chin, and I bury my face in the mess of it to press a kiss to the top of her head.

I can picture my return home so clearly now. I'll ride in just like this, with a unicorn partner and with my moon bound bride in my arms. Everyone will gather around us in the village green. Gerna and Branikk will smile with true pleasure to see me home. Dravarr and Rovann will know what the human in my arms means without me needing to say a thing. Their looks will be full of respect.

My father will smile as well, using his public face, the one that makes it look like he's a caring parent. But I'll see the cold assessment in his eyes. Then I'll watch it change to pride as I declare I'm now a member of the king's guard, I've completed a quest that will save all orcs from the threat of deathsleep, and the goddess blessed me with a moon bound bride.

The sound of running water grows, and we break out of the pines onto the bank of a rushing river, its width dotted with dark brown stones that break the sun-sparkling surface into white-crested waves.

Storm's dislike of water nymphs doesn't slow him as he plunges into the water, speaking well of his commitment to our quest.

Bright liquidy voices cry out with glee as he runs, foam fingers lifting from the surface to tickle his stomach.

Wearing her human pants once again, Taylor draws her legs up to keep them dry as we ford the deepest part. My hand tightens on her, bracing as she leans out, laughing and reaching for the nymphs, who leap from the water to touch her fingers.

"Damned nuisance," Storm growls as he surges up onto the far bank.

"I think they're great," Taylor says.

"Yes, well, you like sprites," the unicorn counters. "So there's no accounting for your taste."

"What does it say that I like you, then?" She leans forward to press a kiss to his withers.

"That there may be hope for you yet."

She throws back her head and laughs, the sound so high and sweet my heart pinches.

Mist reappears beside us, running at Storm's side as if she's always been there, as dry as can be. "I miss all the fun."

"Hardly," Storm says. "But I'm more than happy to have you join me in the river. Perhaps the nymphs will plague you instead."

"Of course they would," the feline fae says. "I'm magnificent."

My bride laughs again, and I hold her close, reveling in her joy as we race ever closer to our goal.

The distinctive purple leaves of mountain rowan come into view through the pine trees ahead, and Storm slows to a walk, his sides rising and falling like a bellows as he catches his breath. He's run hard for several hours at full gallop, a speed only a self-healing unicorn can maintain.

When he comes to a halt, I slide from his back. Energy fills me. Not even the twinge of pain from my injury can stop me now. This is the grove the dragon indicated on her map. We're here! The end of my quest is in sight!

Taylor beams at me as I lift her down to the ground. "This is so exciting!"

Even Mist shows none of her studied insouciance, her green eyes gleaming with interest instead of amusement. "What does violet trifolia look like?"

They all turn to look at me.

"I don't know exactly, but it has a cluster of three purple berries that form a triangle. I'm sure we'll know it when we see it."

"And then we pick the berries?" Taylor asks.

"No." I shake my head. "We need to gather entire plants and bring them back to the king. An orc with plant magic might be able to get them to grow outside of the Skular Woods."

"Then we'll have the antidote all the time without needing to travel." Taylor's eyes shine with approval. "That's really smart."

Pride fills my chest. "Thank you."

"Yes, not bad, orc," Mist says.

"Indeed," Storm adds.

My lips twitch. To get a compliment from a unicorn is no small thing. "I thought of it because of my sister. Gerna's a master herbalist. It's what she does whenever she finds a promising new plant."

I pull a spade and a waterproof leather bag from a saddlebag. "Spread out and call if you find anything. I'll do the digging."

"Of course you will," Storm grumps. "Unicorns do not dig."

He heads left, Mist right, while my bride and I take the center. She shoots me a questioning look as I fall into step behind her. "I thought we were spreading out?"

"I'm not leaving you alone if there are sluagh in the area."

"Okay." As simple as that, she keeps walking, and it strikes me that I've grown used to her respect for me and my ideas. Respect might seem a simple thing, yet it's actually quite precious, and I hold her regard for me close to my heart.

Mountain rowans aren't the tallest of trees, but their dense foliage blocks much of the sunlight, creating a shadowy, purple tinted world beneath their low boughs. Taylor walks with ease, but I have to duck and bend and bat braches out of my way. It's almost enough to tempt me to use my magic, which would allow me to move more easily and quietly forward. But my bride's steps crunch across dried leaves, so there's no point in me expending the extra energy.

A pair of magpies startle from a branch in front of us, taking to the air in flashes of white and black wings. We pass a group of ferns, tender green fiddleheads curling above their fronds. "Can we pick some on the way back?" Taylor asks. "I really like those you made for me the other night."

"Of course." But I don't share her delight. I don't want to find ferns. I want the violet trifolia. Where the hell is it?

The longer we walk, the more frustrated I become. Disappointment fills me, far too familiar, even though I haven't felt it over the recent days. It hisses with all the things my father always says. "Why can't you be like Dravarr?" "Why didn't you win?" "Why are you never good enough?"

I growl and shake my head, trying to fling his words away from me. I will not fail. I will prove him wrong.

"Here, let me go first." I reach out and pull her to a halt so I can step around her.

"Sure."

Her tone sounds a little hurt, but I keep going. I can make it up to her once I find the violet trifolia. After all, she'll only have a husband who's a member of the king's guard if I'm successful. Also, it's actually safer for me to take the lead—I can ferret out any foe before they get to her. I walk faster and faster, my eyes scanning the ground ahead. Where the hell is it? Ferns, mayapples, and moss decorate the mulch of fallen rowans leaves that have faded from their original bright purple to a silvery mauve.

"Krivoth, I can't keep up," Taylor calls from behind me.

"I'll be right there. I'm still looking." I stomp forward. Three purple berries, forming a triangle. How hard can that be to find? But with the mountain rowan leaves everywhere, I'm surrounded by purple. Frustration plucks at my nerves, pulling them tight. How can I be this close to achieving everything I want and yet still unable to grasp success? I shove aside several branches, pushing ever forward.

Still nothing!

"Krivoth!" My bride's voice comes from too far away. She's fallen even farther behind.

I spin around, unable to see anything but a wall of purple leaves. "Taylor?"

"I think I found it!"

My amazing bride! "Stay there! I'm coming to you!" I shoulder back through the branches, ignoring the slap of leaves against my face. Tearing through one last bunch of them, I break into a small clearing.

Taylor crouches beside a bunch of mayapples, her hands holding several of the wide, circular leaves out of the way, to expose another plant that hugs the ground. Three purple berries form a triangle right in the middle of a small cluster of deep-green leaves.

She beams up at me. "See! I found the violet trifolia!"

Wings rustle in the trees, and a black bird with a bright red beak dives straight for my bride.

I jolt forward, heart thundering, arm moving as if through molasses as I pull my sword free of its sheath.

My bride might have found the right plant.

But a soul-stealing sluagh has also found her.