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“Oh?” I raise both eyebrows, trying to decide whether to be insulted or amused. “I’m not your type?”
“Orcs do not have type,” he answers in the same scathing tone he used to calculate my age. “Orcs harbor no desire, only thirst for enemy blood and gold.”
“Then what was yesterday?” I shoot back with a tilt of my head. “Cuz I lost count of the number of times your Emperor harbored desire for me.”
Grak snorts. “Only two Ogres can make Orc. And sex with Human or Elf is required to make ogre. Elves are… picky, so Emperor reluctantly opted for Human to extend Emperor’s dynasty. Extension of dynasty is often what Orcs focus on to overcome lack of sexual want.”
It takes a lot to parse through that dense cultural briefing, and I do not like where I land. “So you’re saying Ivar only acted like he was head over heels gaga for me because he wants me to bear his ogres?”
“Who will create Orcs, who will carry on Emperor’s line,” Grak adds, as if all of this is obvious. “Only way for Orc to carry dynasty into future.”
I want to laugh. I want to deny it. But the more I think about it, the more his argument makes sense.
A few of the things Ivar said last night replay in my mind, this time underneath the harsh light of Grak’s explanation.
“Orc Court has gathered here today to witness Emperor’s union with Human Female, who will bear Emperor scores of ogre offspring!”
“You wish for me to give you my dynasty now?”
“Dynasty endures!”
Reality hits me like a truck. Could I have mistaken his desire to knock me up for instalove—something that doesn’t even exist outside of romance novels?
Ivar’s gruff voice echoes again.
“Emperor knew… Emperor knew, even before lifting Little Bride’s face. Emperor and Little Bride are star-fated.”
But what does that even mean? “Star-fated” could be the much more poetic Orc version of “nice birthing hips” for all I know.
Oh, God. What is wrong with me?
I fell into a romantasy novel and really thought I was just going to live out my life with an Orc Emperor I just met?
My chest seizes again. Not with fear this time, but with recognition: I’ve been here before.…
It was easy to ignore all the red flags with Vance prior to moving in with him. Like him sometimes needing me to pay for dates because “the Nats fucked up again.” (Translation: He’d lost most of his paycheck to sports betting). Or him nagging me with, “You know, you could be a solid D.C. 7 if you lost twenty pounds.” Or how he called my best friend from high school, Lisa, who’d introduced us and worked at the same aeronautics firm as him, his work wife—even more often after she got divorced.
For nearly five years, I told myself Vance really wasn’t that awful. Nobody was perfect, including me, I said to my single mom before she died in a car accident, still hoping to attend my wedding someday. I forced myself to see the best in him, all the way up until when I caught him and his “work wife” in the bed we shared.
And now I’ve done it again. Within a few hours of meeting Ivar, I went from I’m never dating again to vowing to spend the rest of my life with an Orc Emperor who picked me out of a line-up. And I never asked why.
But, of course, it’s because Ivar’s just using me to get what he wants. The same way Vance did to get someone to pay half his rent. Just with prettier words.
How could I have been so stupid? Again.
I swallow down the sour lump that’s formed in my throat to ask Grak, “Where exactly is Ivar?”
Whatever the Middle Realm version of an annulment is, I want it. Right now.
“Emperor called early morning hunt to celebrate successfully impregnating Registry Bride and extending Emperor’s dynasty.” Grak’s face collapses into a miserable frown. “Grak ordered to stay behind.”
“Wait…” My stomach drops. “I’m pregnant?!”
Chapter 18
Empress is Pregnant
“How do Lower Realm Humans manage to survive with such poor noses?” Grak lets out an annoyed grunt. “Yes, of course, Empress is pregnant. Otherwise, Emperor would still be here seeding Registry Bride until Emperor’s goal was met.”
