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“Even though he doesn’t desire or even like me?” The new bitterness spreads like weeds and thorns across my chest.

The Hordechief shrugs. “Grak is sure Emperor appreciates how well Registry Bride took Emperor’s dynasty. Emperor can possibly come to appreciate Empress even more, depending on how many ogres Empress bears for Emperor over next few hundred years.”

Five hundred years.

I’d only agreed to that bride line-up to avoid getting thrown into a dungeon for half a millennium.

The fact that I probably have a couple hundred Middle Realm years’ worth of fertility left sits in my stomach like a lead weight.

Along with the apparent ogre growing in my womb—the one that was only put there to extend Ivar’s dynasty.

I want to cry, but no… no… I can’t do that.

No more following my emotions. It’s time to think strategically.

“Hey, Grak, I don’t suppose you know where the cave of that mage who, ah… attended to us last night is?”

“Yes, less than one hundred carriage wheel turns away, just off hinter road.” Grak frowns. “Why does Empress wish to visit mage cave?”

I open my mouth to lie about wanting to thank the Orc mage.

But before I can, Grak asks, “Does Empress wish to petition Mother Goddess for good birth?”

“Yes,” I answer, biting down on a sarcastic Sure. “Can you tell me how to get there?”

He shakes his head. “Grak could never do that.”

My heart sinks.

But then, he says, “Empress will get lost on own. Grak will fetch cart.” He points to the exterior red door. “Meet outside in one Lower Realm minute.”

Chapter 19

Mage Cave

So, my Middle Realm versus Lower Realm minute math is still a bit fuzzy, but I manage to find a fur throw to wrap around me by the time Grak’s fist bangs against the door what feels like around ten minutes later.

Without a word, he picks me up by the waist and places me in a donkey-drawn cart waiting just outside the fortress. And that’s how I end up taking my first cart ride in the Middle Realm.

Cart rides tend to be funny sequences in the Quinnverse. The humble vehicles are often pulled by talking donkey couples who love to crack jokes at the main characters’ expense, point out the simmering tensions between any pair of love interests, and squabble endlessly with each other in between stopping at inconvenient times for smoke and carrot breaks.

The Orc version of a cart is pulled by four donkeys—maybe because Orcs are so heavy. They don’t crack any jokes at my expense. In fact, like Grak, they stoically stare straight ahead while ferrying us in a plain wooden carriage that could easily be subbed in for a hayride in the Lower Realm.

The Lower Realm…

If my Grak-sponsored math is correct, not even two hours have passed there. While it’s been less than twenty-four hours here, it feels like I’ve been gone for years. And am now inexplicably changed.

It doesn’t take long to reach the mage cave, which looks like a plain old cave on the outside. On the inside, though, I find a white marble rotunda with four corridors marked by glowing rune signs.

Like the sign at the way station, the rune signs morph into Roman letters I can understand after a couple of blinks.

To the far left lies a corridor marked: Higher Realm - Sanctioned Beings Only.

Straight ahead, there’s another arched entrance with a sign that reads: Temple of Mother Goddess.

Just to the right of that lies a corridor marked: Mage Office - Absolutely NO Walk-ins. Appointment Only. Payment Upfront.

And on the far right wall, I find the sign I’m really looking for. It’s considerably less detailed than the other three, hosting only two words: Lower Realm. There’s a faint glow emanating from the darkness beyond it.