The words hit like cold water. Gorak jerked his attention back to Urzara, but the damage was done. He'd acknowledged the distraction, let it affect him.
By the ancient laws of single combat, that was weakness. His fellow orcs had seen it too—their warchief, distracted by a human woman's needlework.
Urzara pressed her advantage, her axe ringing against *Dragonrend* in a rapid sequence that drove Gorak back. But he was a trained warrior; he found his footing, began to counter. The duel wasn't over yet.
Which was when Isolde began to hum.
It was a soft melody, barely audible over the clash of weapons. A human lullaby, gentle and maternal. But Arthur was doing something subtle with their bond, modulating the sound so it seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. To most observers, Isolde was silently focused on her embroidery. To Gorak, there was this maddening, gentle humming that seemed to whisper directly in his ears.
