by Megg Jensen
A clearing throat sounded from outside the entrance to her tent.
"Not tonight, Ademar. I need to sleep." Tace enjoyed her carnal escapes with the human. And to her surprise, he had proven just as insatiable as any orc in bed.
"It's not Ademar." The voice was familiar, but Tace didn't place it immediately.
She poked her head out of her tent and was surprised to see Vron standing there. "I thought you and Alyna…" Tace didn't know what to say. She barely knew the orc and had no idea why he would be visiting her tent so late at night.
"Alyna's the one who told me to come to you." His tone was strange, but familiar in a way.
"Why?" Tace asked. "Is there more she wanted me to know about the journey I'm to undertake tomorrow?"
"No."
Tace waited. But Vron remained silent, and he was starting to irritate her. She needed her sleep.
"Well…?" she prompted.
"I'm your brother." He said the words so quickly, they all ran together.
"Brother?" Tace asked, feeling a lump in the pit in her stomach. She'd had a brother once… but he'd abandoned her and her mother. She had hoped to see him again, but her mother told her he'd died. "I don't have a brother," she said. "Not anymore."
Vron's face fell. "What did our mother tell you? That I was dead?"
Tace bit her lip.
"She did, didn't she?" Vron hung his head. "I'm so sorry. I was so young when I left home. I blamed her for our father's death. I thought if I struck out on my own, I'd carve out a better life for myself."
"I don't have a brother," Tace said again. She hid her shaking hands behind her back. "Tell Alyna I'm prepared to leave tomorrow with Ademar and Brax. We'll report back as soon as we know anything." Without another word, she pulled her head back inside the tent and closed the flap, blocking out Vron and the night.
She could hear him shuffling outside as if he was contemplating saying more, but it wasn't long before he left. The chatter of the camp crept through the night air, leaving Tace cold and isolated.
If Vron was her brother, she didn't recognize him. Her brother's face was now nothing more to her than a hazy image tucked deep inside her memories. No, he couldn't be her brother. And yet… the story fit.
Tace's brother had left the day her father's head was delivered to their house, a gift from the Consecrated. Her father had been a Defiant, going against the religion of Drothu—and he'd paid for it with his life. It was his religious debt, and that of her mother's, that Tace had spent the last two years attempting to settle.
She wondered if Vron had done anything to settle the debt on his end. Had he suffered the same way she had, fearful of what would happen should he die in the middle of the night? Had he contemplated an eternal life of suffering without access to Drothu?
She lay down, her mind roiling with questions, doubts, and fears.
But underneath it all ran a current of hope. If Vron truly was her brother, then she was no longer alone.
Chapter 3
Damor closed his eyes as the two female elves massaged his legs and arms under the orders of Maysant's mother, Ambrielle, the Queen of Gailwyn. It had been so long since anyone had touched him in such a gentle way. Pleasure was something he'd denied himself for so many years in the pursuit of magic.
Once, long ago, he'd been a whole man. He'd desired women. But in time, he'd recognized females for what they were: a distraction, keeping him from attaining the darkest, most arcane knowledge. To delve deeper into the mysteries, he'd had to purge those carnal desires from his body—to make room for the darkest magic he could handle.
"How does that feel?" asked the brunette elf named Twylin, a smile on her delicate face.
"Much better, thank you." The last two words burned on Damor's tongue. Normally he thanked no one. But the elves didn't know his true power yet, and until then, he would have to play the role he had taken on: Benin, the grateful, injured man Maysant had rescued in Tingale Forest after the orc shaman's magic had burned him alive.
"We're so pleased our salves have healed your skin, Benin," said Katra, the other elf. Her smile was as bright as her sparkling blond hair.
Damor remembered another woman with long, blond hair—his beloved Queen Lissa. Eventually he would find his way back to her, and she would pay for the way she'd treated him when she thought he'd perished. Every time he thought of her cruel words, they stoked the anger deep in his belly. He would have his revenge.
A knock sounded at the door. "Can I come in?" Maysant called.
"One moment, milady," Twylin replied.
Katra brought Damor a silken robe and helped him cover his naked body.
"You can come in now," Damor called out with false cheer. It sickened him to act this way, but if Maysant knew his true intentions, she would have him drowned in the Orianna Sea before he could escape. Until Damor had regained all of his power, he would have to continue to play the game.
The door burst open, and Maysant skipped in. That lumbering fool, Ghrol, followed behind her, drool escaping his lips. Damor forced himself to smile instead of recoiling.
"Benin!" Maysant stopped short of throwing herself at him. "I'm sorry. I keep forgetting you're not ready for hugging yet."
Damor would never be ready for hugging. Ever.
"Bnin," Ghrol said, his giant teeth flashing.
"Hello, my friends." Damor reached out with one deliberately trembling hand. Though he had become stronger, he needed Maysant to believe he remained weak.
Maysant took his hand in hers and patted it gently. If he were a better man, he might have been swayed by her genuine concern. Lucky for him, his near-death experience had only hardened his black heart.
"Are Twylin and Katra helping?" Maysant looked nervously at the two elves, who were now cleaning up their ointments and salves. She leaned into Damor and whispered, "They aren't hurting you, are they?"
"Oh, no. Quite the contrary." Damor glanced after the two elves as they left the room. "Their ministrations are doing me a lot of good. I'm only sorry I don't seem to be healing faster. I would so love to get off the boat and run around on the land."
Maysant opened the porthole at one side of the room, letting in a spray of salty sea air. "I know you would, Benin. Soon. I promise! You'll be better in no time. Together, we'll walk to Agitar from the port."
"Me!" Ghrol yelled.
"Of course, you too, Ghrol. We would never leave you behind." As Maysant hugged the brute, he clapped her on the back. She gasped, the wind knocked out of her. "Gentle, Ghrol. Remember, I'm much smaller than the humans you're accustomed to."
"Sry," Ghrol said, his lower lip trembling and his eyes glistening.
"Oh, Ghrol!" Maysant grabbed his giant hand with both of hers. "Now don't cry. We both have a lot to learn about each other. Benin, too. We'll make this work."
Damor coughed, hiding his disgust behind a fisted hand.
Maysant was instantly back at his side. "Are you okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine. Just a tickle in my throat. There was something I wanted to ask you, though."
"Yes?"
"When will I meet your mother?" Though Queen Ambrielle had had them brought aboard her ship, Damor had yet to meet the ruler of the elves. He was desperate to gain her ear. Without that, all of his plans were for naught.
"That's what I came here to tell you." Maysant clapped her hands with glee. "My mother said she wanted us to dine with her tonight." A moment later, her face fell. "My brother, Kazrack, will be joining us, too."
Kazrack. Maysant had mentioned him once or twice. Damor wondered if her brother was as foppish as his sister was silly. He hoped Queen Ambrielle wasn't. If she was, and Damor was stuck with this band of foolish elves, he would throw himself off the ship.
"I'm thrilled I'll finally get the chance to thank her properly." Damor sat up, struggling more than was necessary. "I'll need some help getting to her, though."
"Of course. I will see to all of your needs. You can count on me!" Maysant grab
bed one of Ghrol's hands. "We'll let you rest now. I'll send someone to tend to you soon."
"Thank you, Maysant." Damor forced another smile. "Where would I be without you?"
Maysant's face went still, her smile inverted. "Don't say that, Benin. Don't you dare think so morbidly."
The sad part was, his gratitude, though false, was warranted. Without her, Damor would have died in the forest, starving to death, if not eaten by wild animals.
"Now take a nap," Maysant said. "We'll see you this evening." She left, tugging Ghrol behind her.
When the door closed, Damor relaxed back on the pillows, his arms folded behind his head. He would finally meet the queen of the elves after days of living on her ship. If he could charm her and gain her trust, he would be back in a position of power. He could use the elves to get back at Queen Lissa for her betrayal. She would feel his wrath. She would fall to her knees, begging his forgiveness.
Chapter 4
Alyna rolled onto her stomach and propped herself up on her elbow. Vron snored next to her in the tent. They'd been up half the night talking and the other half not talking. He was an insatiable lover, completely compatible with her needs.
Unfortunately, when he woke she'd have to tell him she was leaving.
Though they camped outside, she could feel her connection to nature waning with each passing day. She'd only come to Agitar to warn the orcs about the invading human army, but everything had spiraled out of control so quickly, and she'd ended up staying for weeks—the longest she'd ever spent in the company of others at one time. A malaise nagged at her. She needed to recharge, to sleep in the forest with only the rustle of the leaves whispering in her ear. If she didn't, she wasn't sure she'd be able to help them fight. Fauns weren't like orcs or humans. Nature sustained her life force. Living with these other creatures according to their norms was slowly killing her.
Alyna reached out for Vron's cheek, her hand shaking slightly. Before she could stroke his cheek with her thumb, his eyes opened lazily.
"Morning," he said, a stupid smile on his face.
"Morning." Alyna leaned over and pecked his cheek. "I need to tell you something."
His smile disappeared. He sat up, the blanket falling to his waist, exposing his well-muscled emerald chest. "Don't say you're leaving."
"I'm leaving." Alyna placed a finger on his lips. "Don't respond until I explain."
"I'll go with you," Vron said.
She sighed and sat up next to him. She was still naked, and Vron couldn't take his eyes from her breasts.
She pushed his chin up. "Listen to me. I need to go home for a bit. I will come back. I promise you that. But I can't stay here permanently. You know that."
"I know you've told me that before, but why can't I come with you? Will my presence detract from whatever it is you need in the forest?" Vron pouted like a child who wasn't getting his way. It was almost cute, except she was deadly serious.
"Yes, it will. I need to be alone."
"Syra will be with you."
"Of course she will. But Syra is a unicorn." Alyna reached under the blanket and grabbed him. Her fingers were unable to wrap all the way around his bulk. "She also won't distract me with this."
Vron's eyelids fluttered shut, and he let out a long groan.
Alyna squeezed lightly, then released him. She stood up and pulled her dress over her head. "I'm going now. Promise me you won't come after me."
"After last night, how can I let you go?" Vron stood and wrapped the blanket around his waist.
Alyna grabbed her pack and began stuffing it with food.
"Last night was a long goodbye, wasn't it?" Vron said.
Alyna slung the pack over her shoulder. "It was a promise for later. I will be back. You need to trust in that."
"You left once before—"
"That was different," she said, cutting him off. "The orcs need me for whatever is coming. I will be back to help."
"That's not what I meant," Vron said quietly.
Alyna looked into his sad eyes. True, she had snuck out on him years ago in the middle of the night and not returned. In the last few weeks, everything had changed, but not enough. She still needed her freedom. She refused to be tethered to this place—or this orc.
"I promise I'll be back. But in the meantime, don't feel like you have to wait for me. Live your life, Vron." Alyna leaned in and kissed him square on the mouth before he could confess his undying devotion. It was sweet how deeply he felt for her, but it wouldn't do either of them any good.
The reality was that Alyna needed her forest. She needed her space. She needed things Vron could never give her. Not on a permanent basis.
She stalked out of the tent, letting the flap fall behind her. Vron wouldn't follow her out. He couldn't get dressed fast enough, and she knew he wouldn't run out of the tent with only a blanket and a very obvious erection. There were orcs everywhere, and as a leader of the army, he needed to maintain his dignity.
Alyna whistled, and a moment later Syra cantered to her side. "Are you ready to go home?" she asked the unicorn.
Syra dipped her head and straightened one leg, and Alyna climbed on her friend's back. As Syra trotted south, weaving through the camp, orcs stopped to watch the two. They were a strange sight that few of them had gotten used to. Alyna alone was an oddity to them. Many of them had seen no more than a drawing of a faun, much less a live one standing in their midst and carrying on with one of their most powerful warriors. And then there was Syra, a unicorn; few had even believed in their existence.
When Alyna and Syra reached the edge of the orc encampment, Alyna took in a deep breath. Already the air felt richer, free from the corruption of stink and waste. She urged Syra with a gentle pat on her shoulder, and the unicorn broke into a steady run on the open prairie. They both needed to taste freedom again. To feel the wind blowing through their hair. To experience the gentle sounds of nature.
As Alyna took in a second deep breath, a strange pain stabbed in her chest. She coughed, holding back a full gagging sensation.
Syra looked back at Alyna, her eyes wide.
"I'm okay, thanks. It's too much fresh air. I'm not used to it anymore." Alyna laughed.
Syra cantered south half the day. As time passed, Alyna found herself slumping over Syra's back, resting her head against the unicorn's silky white mane. Each breath became harder and harder to take. She needed nature to help her recharge—though this felt different. More severe, somehow, than she would have expected. Perhaps she'd caught a virus in the orc encampment. She wouldn't be surprised. Their living conditions weren't ideal. It wouldn't take much for a virus to spread.
Woozy, she looked up when at last they approached Tingale Forest. "Find a quiet clearing," she whispered in Syra's ear.
The unicorn picked up speed, and Alyna could feel the gentle touch of branches as they entered the forest. She perked up a little, taking deep breaths, letting the pure air of the forest inside her lungs.
"Better," she whispered as she slipped off Syra's back. She settled on the ground and, using her arm for a pillow, fell into a deep sleep.
Chapter 5
Ademar's legs ached from straddling the draft horse the orcs had given him. He'd ridden plenty of horses as a youth in Soleth, but the orcs' horses were half again as wide. He had no idea how the orcs sat so easily upon their backs. He couldn't wait for the end of the day when he'd finally slide off the horse and rest his hips.
Tace glanced over at him, amusement sparkling in her eyes. Anything that gave him discomfort was fodder for her teasing. Considering how angry and distracted she'd been the majority of the time they'd known each other, he could put up with a little harmless banter if it kept her happy.
"You could ride side saddle," Tace said with a smirk. "I hear the human ladies prefer that to riding astride."
"I'll be fine." Ademar said.
He glanced over at Brax, wondering how he was getting on. The man had said little to either of them on the journey so f
ar. It was their third day of travel, and Brax's interactions with the others had been limited almost entirely to cooperating with Ademar's lessons in the orc language. He'd offered little of his own thoughts on anything. Ademar couldn't blame him. Brax's life had been turned upside down as much as theirs had.
Ademar wanted to know why Brax had chosen to stay on with the orcs rather than go home to Soleth with the human army. Ademar was a holy man, a man of the human god Solnar, while Brax was a military leader; they couldn't be more different. Yet they'd both made the same difficult choice. Though perhaps Ademar had a more compelling reason.
He glanced over at Tace, sitting upon her draft horse as if it were the most comfortable place she could be. He tried not to think about her thighs and the way they were squeezing the horse. It was too similar to the way she'd straddled him the first time they'd had sex.
Sweat pooled on Ademar's brow as he tried to wish the thoughts away. Now wasn't the right time to think about her naked breasts pressed against him. The way she grabbed him, encouraging him to give up the one thing he'd promised to keep pure.
And he'd done it willingly.
Not because she'd tempted him, but because he'd wanted to. He'd wanted her in a way he'd never wanted anyone else. He couldn't imagine leaving her behind, no matter his sense of loyalty. It all belonged to her now.
Ademar adjusted himself on the horse's back, willing his strained breeches to return to their normal state. He was acting like a horny teenager, not the man he'd become.
"Are you leaving a wife and children behind?" he asked Brax, needing to make conversation. Anything to get his mind off the orc swaying so seductively on the horse in front of his.
"No. Not married."
As usual, Brax's response was short, not leaving much of an opening for conversation. Still, Ademar had to try. He had to ask the question that had been hanging between them for days.
"Why didn't you go home?"
Brax pursed his lips, then let out a long sigh. He nodded at Tace up ahead. "Can she speak the human tongue?"