He Lost His Forgotten Bride to an Orc

Five years. That's what I gave Vaelor, Crown Prince of the Dark Elves.

I was already dressed for the betrothal ceremony when I caught his voice through the gap in the council hall door.

"You're really going through with it? The human?"

"Of course. The Alliance has kept a blade at our throats for years. Their leader's apprentice, given to us in marriage—that puts it away."

"But if she suspects—"

"She won't."

"And Lyseth—"

"Lyseth is who matters. The human is manageable."

I didn't make it out of the courtyard. A blade came from the darkness before I could summon a defense.

When I woke up, I remembered everything. Aldric. Isara. The Alliance. Five years of roads, every step.

Just not his face.

Aldric's messenger stone was on the nightstand. Short, direct: Return to the Alliance. Political marriage. Orc Royal House.

I wrote back: Seven days.

Miren stopped in the doorway when she saw the void-pouch open on the floor.

"You're really going through with it. The orc marriage."

"Waygate's booked." I kept working. "Six days."

She came in slowly. "You'd be leaving everything. Leaving..." She hesitated. "My cousin."

I looked up. "What cousin?"

"Vaelor."

"I have no memory of him at all." I went back to sorting through the wardrobe shelf. "What am I leaving behind? Did I even love him?"

She didn't answer right away. Instead she reached to the back of the wardrobe and pulled something out—a slim ledger, the cover soft with wear. She pushed it into my hands.

"You chased him for five years. Every meeting logged, every attempt. It's all in there."

I flipped through it. My own handwriting, careful and dated, page after page. One name ran through almost every entry: Lyseth, showing up in the early years and then more and more, until by the end it appeared on nearly every page.

Something pressed briefly in my chest. Not grief, exactly. More like reading about someone I didn't know.

"Who's Lyseth?" I asked.

Miren let out a slow breath. "The one he actually wants. She always has been. You were just never her."

I closed the Bond Ledger and dropped it in the void-pouch.

"Five years, and he never once chose me." I tied the pouch shut. "I don't see what I'm leaving behind."

"What orc marriage?" A voice from behind us. Cold.

I turned around.

Vaelor was leaning against the doorframe. He looked at the void-pouch on the floor, then at me. "Playing games again?"

Miren stepped forward. "She's—"

"I didn't ask you." He didn't look at her. His eyes stayed on me. "Tessa. I've agreed to this marriage. I expect you to act accordingly. And whatever you've been saying about Lyseth—stop."

"I haven't said anything about Lyseth."

"Blood Moon Banquet. Tonight. You're coming."

"Why?"

"Lyseth will be there." He said it the same way he said everything—settled, already decided. "She doesn't have official standing. If I arrive with her and you're not there, the court will talk. Your being there keeps things quiet." A beat. "It's one evening."

I looked at him.

He'd just asked me, out loud, to be cover for the woman he actually wanted. Straightforward as a weather report.

"No," I said. "I'm not going."

He crossed the room and got a hand around my wrist.

The stitches in my back—still in, three weeks from the ambush—pulled taut all at once. Something warm started spreading through the fabric at my shoulder.

"Vaelor."

Lyseth's voice, from the corridor. Soft, careful.

He stopped. He let go.

I caught the doorframe before my legs decided they were done. My back was burning. He was already moving toward the door.

Lyseth stepped inside. She was pale, simply dressed, her eyes going from Vaelor to me and then back to Vaelor. She moved through the room the way she clearly always had—like she belonged in it.

"I didn't realize you were busy," she said. "I can come back."

He reached her. "Are you alright? You should be resting."

"I just wanted to see you." She leaned against him slightly, her hand finding his arm.

Miren crouched down next to me, got her hands under my arms and helped me straighten up. Then she turned toward Vaelor's back.

"Her stitches pulled," she said. Her voice was very steady. "She's bleeding through. You just yanked her across the room—"

"It was fine."

"It wasn't fine. She's been healing for three weeks and you grabbed her and—"

"Miren." One word.

Lyseth's hand tightened on Vaelor's arm. Her voice dropped. "I always make it worse when I show up. Tessa's had to put up with so much because of me." She looked past him toward me. "I understand if she's angry with me."

I hadn't said a word.

Vaelor turned.

The slap was fast. My head snapped sideways and my ear went high and hollow with ringing. I held the doorframe and stayed on my feet.

He shook out his hand. "I thought you knew better than this." He looked at me the way you look at something you've dealt with. "Don't send Miren to do your talking again. I won't be so patient next time."

He picked up Lyseth's hand. "Blood Moon Banquet. Main hall. Eight o'clock. Don't make me wait."

He walked her out. The door stayed open.

Miren's arms came around me before the sound had faded—careful, avoiding my shoulder. After a moment she pulled back. Her face was wet.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I should have—"

"It's not your fault." I found the edge of the bed and sat down.

She stood there for a second. Then she turned toward the open doorway, and something in her expression went very hard.

"Go," she said. "Go back to the Alliance. Go through with the orc marriage. Let him figure out on his own what he just threw away."

She wasn't wrong.

My ear was still ringing. My shoulder burned. I sat and did the math.

Waygate booked. Six days. Aldric waiting.

Six more days. Then my own story.