Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 58110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
The doors of the great hall burst open and one of the guards rushes in. "My lord! Trouble!"
Agakor's jaw clenches. Reluctantly, he looks away from me and back at the soldier. "What now? I'm in the midst of my wedding."
The man jogs forward, and I see he's wearing one of the blue sashes at his waist—one that I've been told denotes loyalty to Agakor and not a mercenary here for coin. He strides toward us, glancing at me before stopping in front of my almost-husband. He lowers his voice. "A band of orcs on horseback are heading this way from the north, my lord. Rumor is they've come from the mountains and are charging this way. Shall I send outriders out to intercept them?"
My almost-husband groans. He releases my hand and rubs his face, his expression tired. "Damn his timing."
"What is it?" I ask quietly. I'm aware of everyone in the hall staring at us, watching. Their ears are probably straining to overhear our conversation. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, save that our marriage must wait a little longer." Agakor grips my shoulders and sighs. "It seems my father is on his way to join us."
His…father?
CHAPTER 15
IOLANTHE
I'm not sure what I expected Agakor's father to be like. Perhaps like my husband-to-be, with a calm, amused demeanor and a steady, quiet confidence. Mudag is the opposite of all of that. He's slightly taller than his son, with thick, wild black hair. His tusks are bigger, too, jutting so far across his face they're practically poking at his nose. Unlike Agakor's thick, solid build, Mudag is lean and rangy. He's all muscle, but it's ropy and rawboned instead of bulging. He wears a kilt made of skins, a necklace full of (what I hope are) animal teeth, and his hair is studded with flowers, his belt is covered in bright, showy blooms.
And he smells like a garden.
Heavily.
I swallow hard, trying not to be alarmed at the overly-perfumed scent of my soon-to-be father-in-law as he approaches with his men. Agakor leans in, my hand still tucked protectively in his arm. "That scent is the blooms," he murmurs. "Orcs use it to hide their scents from predators."
"Predators?" I ask politely.
"Owlbears, mountain naga, griffons." He shrugs. "Other orcs. Humans."
Right. "It sounds like a dangerous place."
"Which is why I'm here in Adassia," he agrees, grinning down at me. "Don't be alarmed by Father. He's harmless."
He doesn't look all that harmless, but then again, neither does Agakor and I'm growing fonder of him by the day. So I smile brightly and remain at Agakor's side as the band of orcs approaches, my eyes watering from their scents.
"Looks like we arrived just in time," Mudag says loudly, coming to a stop in front of us. Since the orc party was arriving, our ceremony was delayed and we moved to stand in the courtyard. Agakor said it was so if there was a mess, it wouldn't get on the clean floors. I had no idea what he was talking about, but gazing at Mudag's flower-covered garments and grime-caked boots, I'm starting to get an idea. The orc straightens to his full height, glaring down at me, and a few bright petals flutter to the floor. "This the human?"
"Aye," Agakor says cheerfully. "This is my bride-to-be. Her name is Iolanthe.”
My insides quiver with terror but I somehow keep smiling even as Mudag fixes his terrifying stare on me. "Pleased to meet you, er, Mudag." I have no idea how to address an orc, and I hope I did so properly. Agakor has said before that he's not a lord, so I don't call Mudag one either. "You are just in time for the ceremony's completion."
He bares his teeth at Agakor as if grossly displeased. "A human wedding?"
"Cyclopae traditions," he reassures his father.
Mudag grunts, as if grudgingly giving his approval. "Well, now that I'm here, you can marry her in orc tradition as well. You'll have to wait a few days, but we can have the feast at least." He nods at us as if it's all decided.
Another wedding? Oh, by all the gods, am I going to have to get naked in front of everyone again? I shoot Agakor a panicked look. "Orc tradition?"
My husband-to-be is grimacing. "We don't have to—"
"You have to," Mudag bellows, leaning into his son's face and eyeing him balefully. Agakor ignores his father's mood, but the look he gives me is downright apologetic. Mudag is worked up, though. He points a stout green finger at me. "It must be the night of the full moon, with Belara’s red eye upon you. My son will steal his mate away."
I relax. After the titillations of the Cyclopae marriage, being stolen away sounds normal. "That doesn't seem so bad."
Mudag lunges toward me, forcing me to leap backward. "He shall whack you over the head with the ceremonial club—"