Page 65 of The Savage Vow
Makhel echoed the battle cry and plunged her sword into the chest of the enemy.
The clearing became chaos—shouts, the clashing of weapons, bodies falling to the ground. She and Makhel cut their way through the malicious orcs who dared attack them. Nargol ducked beneath a swinging axe and drove her blade into her opponent’s side. He fell down to the ground with a choking gasp.
Nargol ignored him as yet again, another orc rushed her. She couldn’t help the smile that lingered on her lips while she fought. This almost reminded her of the trials she and her sister had fought in. Even though those opponents were highly trained warriors. These orcs were nowhere on the level of those warriors. She and Mahkel were holding their own.
Easily.
The smile that once rested on Grat’s face was now gone. He had completely underestimated her skill as so many others had before him. He should have known better. Her last name alone should have meant something.
She pivoted and slammed her elbow into the orc’s jaw, slashing her blade across his chest. A vicious, bright line of blood appeared on his chest. He stumbled back and fell to the ground, grasping his chest. Pain burned on her arm where a blade had grazed her in the melee, but she ignored it.
She and Makhel were now back to back with only three orcs left facing them.
“Enough!” Grat shouted.
Nargol froze. She didn’t relax from her defensive pose. She inhaled, her attention going to the edge of the clearing. Newcomers had joined them.
Yambul, and in his grasp?—
Nargol’s world tilted.
Orlena struggled in his arms, her face streaked with tears. A dagger pressed against her throat, its edge digging into her fragile skin.
Nargol’s heart dropped into her stomach. She clenched the handle of her blade. It would only take mere seconds for her to reach for her bow. At this distance, she was sure to hit her target.
The center of Yambul’s eye. It would be a deadly shot, but also risky if he moved and put Orlena in the way.
She took a step forward.
“Take another step and she dies,” Yambul said.
Three large orcs stood behind him, ready to join the fray.
Every instinct screamed for her to charge to her mate’s rescue. Her muscles screamed with the effort it took her to hold still.
A single drop of blood trailed down Orlena’s neck. Nargol swallowed hard and held her position. This was one risk she was not going to take.
“I told her what you are,” Yambul continued. His voice dripped with venom. “A spy. A liar who used her to get to me and my cause.”
Orlena’s gaze connected with Nargol’s. Fear and confusion burned bright in her dark-brown eyes, but beneath it all, trust still remained.
“Whatever you told her is a lie, Yambul,” Nargol admitted. She tried to plead with Orlena with her gaze. “Orlena, don’t believe him. I swear I didn’t know he was involved in this.”
“If what I told her was a lie, then tell her who you are. Clear everything up right now.” Yambul’s cruel smile spread across his face. He dropped his head down so his mouth was near Orlena’s ear. “Don’t you want to hear who your lover truly is?”
The question hung in the air. The other orcs already knew thanks to Grat, but that was before Yambul had arrived with Orlena.
Nargol’s chest constricted. This was not how she wanted Orlena to find out who she truly was. She had imagined all the different ways she wanted to tell Orlena her birth name, where she was from and about her family—and how she would take her wherever she wanted to go in the entire world.
But not like this.
Not with a blade at her throat and enemies circling them like vultures.
“It’s okay.” Orlena’s lips wobbled with her whisper.
The faith in her voice shattered something in Nargol. Whatever happened after today, all she knew was that she would make it her mission to beg for forgiveness from her mate. She stood to her full height and held Orlena’s gaze as she spoke.
“My name is Nargol Cydassi. Second-born child of Chieftain Tulak and Dura Cydassi.” Her voice rang out across the clearing. She pointed to Orlena. “And that woman is my mate.”
