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Story: Pawn

She turned to him, her eyes meeting his with the quiet strength he'd come to admire so deeply. "My people came out to support me when it mattered. I won't abandon them now."

His heart ached with love for her—for her courage, her sense of duty, her unwavering commitment to her people even when they had failed her. But he couldn't bear the thought of losing her, not when he had finally discovered what it meant to be truly bonded to another soul. But he knew he could not be the one to stand in the way of her destiny.

"Do you trust me?" he asked her, his voice dropping low enough that only she could hear.

She didn't hesitate. "I do."

Those two simple words filled him with a fierce determination. He turned to K'alvek, gesturing for him to join him a few paces away from the others.

"I have a plan," he told him when they were out of earshot. "One that will protect Linnea while allowing her to reclaim her position."

The seasoned warrior studied him, his eyes shrewd beneath dark brows. "I hope this is better than your plan to spear the sand snake," he said dryly. “The two of us barely survived that.”

ChapterThirty-Nine

The city walls loomed before them, pale stone gilded by the rising suns as they approached the main gate. The bounty hunters and Dothvek warriors formed a protective semicircle around Linnea, their weapons not drawn but visibly present—a clear warning to anyone who might consider interfering with their approach.

Linnea kept her gaze fixed on the gate, trying to ignore the knot of anxiety tightening in her stomach. Zexx, K'alvek, and T'Kar had disappeared an hour earlier, slipping back through the hidden tunnels into the city while they circled around to approach from the main entrance. Their absence left her feeling oddly exposed despite the formidable group surrounding her.

What if the plan failed? What if the council had gathered enough guards to overwhelm even the Dothvek warriors? What if Zexx was captured or worse?

"Your face is like a scroll anyone can read," Tori commented beside her, her blade now secured at her hip but her hand never straying far from its hilt. "He won't let you down, you know."

Linnea glanced at her, startled by how accurately she'd read her thoughts. "Do you have the same empathic abilities as the Dothveks?" she asked, wondering if this was yet another aspect of these off-worlders she had failed to consider.

Tori laughed, the sound bright and unexpected in the tense atmosphere. "Nah, nothing that fancy. You just have that same look my captain gets when one of us is heading out on a solo mission—like you're trying to calculate all the ways things could go wrong and whether you should insist on going with him.”

"I'm not used to letting others fight my battles," she admitted, smoothing her stained cloak with hands that refused to remain still.

"From what I hear, you've been fighting alone for a long time," Tori replied, surprising her with her insight. "Maybe it's time to let someone have your back."

Before Linnea could respond, movement at the gate caught her attention. Slowly, the massive doors began to swing outward, the ancient hinges groaning under their weight. She stiffened, half-expecting Crestek warriors to rush through the opening, weapons raised.

But the gates continued to open without opposition, revealing the familiar main thoroughfare leading into the city center. No guards blocked their way, no weapons were leveled at them. She exhaled a heavy breath.

"Looks like the first part of the plan worked," Bexli murmured, her lavender hair shifting brighter as she moved forward to flank Linnea on the other side.

Linnea nodded, then squared her shoulders and strode through the gate with what she hoped appeared to be confidence rather than the nervous determination she actually felt. The bounty hunters and Dothveks followed, their presence drawing curious glances from early-rising merchants setting up their stalls in the market square.

As they approached the central plaza before the tower, she saw them—Zexx, K'alvek, and T'Kar standing at the base of the steps, and kneeling before them, bound and clearly furious, were Vellen and Taal. Several other council members she recognized as being loyal to the traitors were similarly restrained, guarded by additional Dothvek warriors who must have entered through other tunnel access points.

Relief flooded through her, so intense it nearly buckled her knees. The plan had worked.

Zexx's eyes found hers across the plaza, and even at this distance, she could feel the connection between them pulse with shared triumph and concern. He had succeeded in capturing the traitors but wouldn't rest easy until she was safely back in power.

By now, a crowd had begun to gather, drawn by the unusual sight of Dothveks and various off-worlders in the heart of the city. Whispers rippled through the growing throng, fingers pointing, expressions ranging from fear to fascination to relief as people recognized her among the group.

This was the moment—the opportunity to reclaim her position, to address the lies that had been spread, to set her city on a new path. She moved to the steps of the tower, climbing several to gain height over the assembled citizens. The familiar stone beneath her feet felt somehow different now, as if she were returning not just to her position but to a new understanding of what that position should mean.

She raised her hands, and a hush fell over the crowd.

"People of the Crestek city," she began, her voice carrying clearly in the morning air. "You have been told many things in the past day—that I was kidnapped, that the peace was threatened, that your security required a return to isolation."

She paused, looking out over the sea of faces—merchants and artisans, guards and servants, nobles and commoners alike—all waiting to hear what had truly transpired.

"I could stand here and tell you comfortable falsehoods," she continued. "I could claim that everything is as it always was, that nothing needs to change. But I've learned, perhaps too late, that leadership without honesty is merely manipulation."

The crowd stirred, uncertain how to react to such unprecedented candor from their chancellor.