“King Custevale, with Steward Zacharias sadly unavailable, it falls to me to assume his role here this evening. And so, without further ado, I am delighted to present to you Princess Calliope, your bride to be.”
Fuck that.
I growl low as I leap up the stairs, taking them four at a time. As I hear the gasps and whispers of the gathered crowd, their delight at how beautiful my Calliope looks, I finally reach the top of the stairs and rush at the door. It flies off its hinges, slamming into the floor, and all eyes are on me.
Gasps and screams don’t interest me, because I see her. Finally, in the full light of the dozen chandeliers in this main hall, I see my love. And fuck, I want her. The blue dress she’s wearing trails on the ground but is wide around her cleavage. I want to sink my teeth into that soft flesh, I want to kiss her exposed throat and pull her hair, opening her mouth around my needy cock.
And I want to rip out the eyes of every swinging dick that’s looking at her right now.
“Rian?” Her eyes go wide as she stares at me. “How? How are you…?”
Her words fail, and instead of trying to pick up her thread of thought, she drops the garland of flowers she was holding and runs my way. My chest expands with an enormous breath as I throw my arms wide and she laughs, flinging herself into my embrace. Our lips meet hard, and I wouldn’t have it any other way, even as I feel myself diminishing, shrinking, my thick hide becoming more normal, clothes starting to hang off my enormous but distinctly non-monstrous frame.
“You broke the curse,” Calliope whispers. “You broke it for me. For us.”
And in a way, she’s right. But there’s one more thing I need to do. So, with reluctance, I lower her to the ground and turn to face the elf king.
“Nevertheless,” he says, his face twisted. “Nevertheless the princess is promised to me.” He turns away from me and sweeps his gaze over the assembled masses, finally settling on a man I don’t recognize. Is he the acting steward? Where is Zacharias, anyway? “Do you intend to break bond?”
Motherfucker.
I put myself between him and Calliope, a growl every bit as monstrous as my former self falling from my lips as I stalk his way. I don’t care that my clothes are falling around me. With a roar, I tear the shirt from my chest and throw it aside as he draws the pathetic sword hanging at his hip. I’ll happily face him unarmed and naked. I’ll tear him apart with my bare hands.
“Relinquish your claim,” I thunder. “Right now. Or face the consequences.”
“No. No I don’t think I will.” The king grins. “Guards!”
I don’t know what I was expecting, but as the king’s smile falls mine grows wide. His guards take a step back, widening the space between us instead of narrowing it.
“What are you doing…? Seize him, or I’ll have your heads!”
“Hold firm,” says an elven voice I don’t recognize. Clearly, she holds more sway over the actions of the guards than the king. “This is not our quarrel. The princess has chosen her suitor. Relinquish your claim, Custevale. We do not take marriage by force. It is not our way.”
“I’m the king, you traitorous bitch!” he cries, but as I step forward, starting to enjoy myself, his sword arm starts to quiver. “Bavain!”
No answer. Clearly, he’s forgotten he sent him off to retrieve Odette.
“Relinquish, King Custevale,” I tell him. “Or fight me. But decide now.”
He must know that he’s lost this fight, but nevertheless his sword comes up. Perhaps he thinks with me standing naked before him he need only connect once and put me down, but though I no longer look like one, I am descended from orcs. My people are fearsome, we are warriors, crude and ruthless and he should have remembered that.
As he draws back his sword, I rush forward, using my speed and strength against him. My fist connects with his temple, and he collapses sideways, the stroke never falling. I think he says something like “I relinquish” but it doesn’t matter now. My orc side is in charge, and blind fury overwhelms my senses.
Blow after blow falls against his face, my own voice hoarse as I cry out, and nobody tries to stop me. I watch myself act in almost a daze, knuckles growing raw as my punches continue to rain down, his flesh turning to pulp.
But, it is not enough. Elves are difficult to kill, but there is one sure way.
A moment later, there’s a horrible, cracking, ripping sound then his head flies in an arc, out a window, the eyes and mouths of the crowd wide as they watch.