Page 20

He sets his hood deeper over his face and slips around a corner, vanishing into the warren of backstreets.

Relief floods my limbs, but I remain still for a long moment, letting his footsteps fade entirely.

Then, carefully, I rise from my crouch, knees trembling.

My mind races with the conversation snippets: sabotage, orc connections, an orchestrated plan to topple Remanos’s credibility.

Once I’m sure the alley is empty, I retrace my steps to the main thoroughfare.

My cloak clings to me, sweat dampening my hairline despite the dryness of the city air.

The vendor stalls come back into view, a swirl of color and noise that seems far too ordinary after the confrontation in that narrow lane.

I forcibly calm my breathing, merging with the crowd as though nothing is amiss.

My instincts scream that I need to get back to Remanos, share everything before these conspirators vanish.

A new fear grips me: If they suspect they were followed, they might accelerate their scheme.

Or they’ll try to tie Remanos more tightly to contraband shipments.

Or worse, they might decide I’m a loose end to eliminate.

My steps quicken as I head for the more reputable part of the market where I can hail a carriage.

It’s a short distance, but each stride feels like wading through thick sand.

My gaze darts from face to face, expecting a pursuer at any moment.

I manage to secure passage in a small covered cart returning toward Remanos’s district.

The driver, a middle-aged minotaur with a missing horn tip, barely glances at me, content to take my coin and lead the donkey along the busy roads.

Seated on a wooden bench, I exhale a shaky breath, touching my fluttering stomach.

My thoughts spin: I have real evidence of a traitorous arrangement.

That tall minotaur is definitely high status, likely with means to disguise their involvement.

My earlier suspicions about Vaelen might be only half-correct.

He could be a pawn, or maybe he’s one of several conspirators among the Vakkak.

Either way, this is bigger than forging orc blades.

When the cart halts outside Remanos’s estate, I jump down.

The driver nods curtly and trundles off, uninterested in my reasons for rushing.

I pass through the gate, ignoring the quizzical look from one of Remanos’s guards.

Inside the courtyard, the midday sun illuminates the polished columns.

I don’t pause to enjoy the scenery. My sandals slap the stone floor as I hurry to find Remanos.

I peek into the main audience chamber—empty. The training yard is silent. Anxiety gnaws at me until I spot a house attendant. “Where’s the champion?” I demand, breathless.

She points to a corridor. “He’s in the reading nook by the terrace, sorting correspondence.”

I dart down the hall, turning at the marble arch that leads to a wide terrace overlooking the city’s rooftops.

There, in a cushioned seat, Remanos sifts through a stack of scrolls, his expression tense.

A bandage still peeks above the neckline of his tunic, but he appears more alert than the last time I saw him.

The instant I enter, he lifts his gaze, concern flashing across his features.

“Mira.” He rises, setting the scrolls aside. “You left without telling anyone. Are you all right?”

My pulse is still racing. I close the distance, ignoring the swirl in my chest that comes from the warmth of his concern. “I have to show you something.”

His brow furrows. “Sit. Breathe.” He gently motions to a carved wooden bench opposite his seat. “What happened?”

I slump onto the bench, inhaling deeply.

“I went to the south market. I suspected the shipments we read about might show up there in tampered crates. I found some with a bull’s head stamp—but it’s likely covering a boar’s head crest. Two minotaurs were discussing deliveries for orcs.

And then… one carried a crate into an alley, where he met a tall noble with a green cloak.

They mentioned a plan to blame you for contraband shipments.

They also said the orc clan demanded higher bribes.

Remanos… some powerful minotaur from the Senate or the Vakkak class is actively conspiring with orcs to sabotage you. ”

He stares at me for a long moment, tension building in his broad shoulders. “You’re sure it was a noble?”

I nod, the memory fresh. “The cloak’s hem was embroidered with gold filigree, the way your upper class often flaunts wealth. And he wore a silver band around one horn—like some kind of status marker. I couldn’t see his full face, but I’d recognize that cloak again if I saw it.”

Remanos exhales, tail swishing. “This is serious. If they can tie these tampered crates to me, it fuels the rumors of my orc collusion. Then the Senate could dethrone me or put me on trial, clearing the path for an easier champion puppet.”

My pulse hums with adrenaline. “Yes. They could either prop up a champion who’s sympathetic to orc bribes or keep you under constant threat, forcing you to do their bidding.”

He rakes a hand over the table’s edge, frustration evident in the press of his lips. “I suspected infiltration, but I never imagined someone in the upper class would stoop to direct deals with orcs.”

I recall the hush of that alley, the hush that reeked of betrayal. “It’s definitely happening. They used the crates to hide contraband. They’re funneling orc smuggled goods into the city under your name, or your crest, or something close enough to implicate you.”

His fists clench, the cords of muscle in his arms standing out.

I’ve seen him in the arena—focused, lethal, and calm.

Now, anger smolders in his dark eyes, laced with something more vulnerable: the realization that his entire life’s honor is at risk.

“We have to gather proof. Hard evidence that ties this arrangement to a specific noble so we can confront the Senate.”

My heart twists at the burden he carries. Without thinking, I reach out, placing my hand lightly on his forearm. The warmth of his skin under my fingertips jolts me, a reminder of the spark that’s been building between us since the moment we were forced into each other’s orbits.

“We’ll do this,” I say softly. “We won’t let them destroy you. I can go back, watch for the cloak or that spiral-branded minotaur. Maybe catch them exchanging cargo again.”

He shakes his head, voice going taut. “Not alone. If they suspect you were eavesdropping, you’re in danger. I won’t let you risk your life sneaking around unprotected.”

Despite his stern tone, I catch the undercurrent of genuine concern. It warms a place in my chest I’ve tried to keep barricaded. My grip on his forearm lingers. “I’m not fragile. I’ve survived orcs, I can handle this.”

He inhales, tension rippling through him. “You shouldn’t have to handle it by yourself. We can go together. Or at least let me assign discreet guards to watch your back.” He softens. “Please.”

The gentle plea in his voice surprises me. “All right,” I concede. “But if we go together, we can’t draw too much attention. Word spreads fast, and if your enemies realize we’re onto them, they’ll vanish.”

He slides his arm out from under my hand, but only to take my fingers gently in his.

The contact is unexpected, a quiet acknowledgment of the alliance we’ve formed.

My pulse stutters, but I don’t pull away.

He stares down at my hand for a moment, then looks up, eyes intense.

“Thank you for doing this. For gathering these clues. I know you have every reason to despise Milthar’s politics, but you’re helping me anyway. ”

I swallow, memories of our earliest clashes flooding my mind—how I loathed him for accepting me as a spoil, how I suspected he was just another conqueror.

“It’s not just for you,” I say, voice quieter.

“These people are funneling arms to orcs, threatening the city’s stability.

If I want to avoid orc captivity again, I need to help stop them. But… yes, part of it is for you, too.”

Sparks dance between us. His gaze lingers on my face, something unspoken rising in the silence of the terrace.

All at once, the courtyard beyond feels too quiet, the swirl of air too thick.

A soft breeze ruffles the folds of my tunic and shifts a strand of his fur near his neck.

For a heartbeat, I wonder if he can sense the quickening of my heart.

He breaks the tension first, voice husky. “We’ll plan our approach carefully. Maybe do some late-evening reconnaissance in that southern district. I know a few discreet ways in and out. If we’re lucky, we’ll spot them making another exchange.”

I nod, relishing the subtle hum of energy coursing through me. “Agreed. There’s a half-finished record in your shipping logs referencing shipments to that same area. It might align with a new drop-off time.”

He glances at the stack of Senate scrolls he abandoned upon my arrival, then back at me. “I’ll shift some obligations to tomorrow and feign an injury check-up if the Senate wonders where I’ve gone. Meanwhile, you can rest or gather what you need. We’ll head out after dusk.”

I notice the faint tension in his jaw, likely from the wound that’s still healing.

The memory of bandaging him the other night flickers through me, fueling a tender ache I push aside.

“Make sure you’re not pushing yourself too hard.

You won that duel, but orc venom isn’t something to treat lightly. ”

A hint of a smile touches his lips. “You worry about me, Mira?”

Heat flushes my cheeks. “I worry about my own prospects if you keel over and I’m left to face the Senate alone.”