Page 24

My men help me pry open the plank, stepping aside so we can slip out into the moonlit docks.

Sirens wail somewhere in the distance—someone must have heard the commotion.

We creep along the wharf, tension coiled in every muscle.

I keep Mira close, ignoring the stirring ache in my side.

She meets my glance once, fleetingly, but neither of us speaks about what nearly happened in that warehouse.

We hurry down the deserted pier, the horizon tinted with starlight.

The city’s architecture rises behind us, silent and foreboding.

Our footsteps echo, hearts still pounding.

Once we’re at a safe distance, crouched behind a stack of barrels, I let out a breath.

My men quickly tie cloth around the scuff on my bracer to hide its damage.

Mira checks the parchment with trembling hands. “We have it, Remanos—Vaelen’s name, orc mercenaries, payments, dates. This is big.”

I nod, forcing my gaze away from the lines of her face. “Yes. Enough to implicate him directly. The Senate can’t ignore that. Not if we present it carefully.”

She exhales, relief tempered by exhaustion. “He’ll do everything in his power to discredit us if we confront him head-on. We must be strategic.”

I clutch my injured side, wincing. “Agreed. We can’t storm into the Senate and wave these documents around. We need alliances or a secure forum to reveal the evidence. Possibly Ortem, if we can trust him. Or rally enough lesser senators to force an investigation.”

Mira nods, tucking the parchment away. “We can finalize details once we’re back. Let’s get out of here before more of Vaelen’s henchmen show up.”

We lead the group through narrow alleys, slipping past flickering lanterns.

My side pulses in fresh pain, though it’s not catastrophic.

Each time I slow, Mira hovers near me, silent concern etched in her brow.

That near-kiss lingers in my mind, refusing to fade.

Heat flushes my body whenever I recall how close I was to bridging that gap.

The unspoken attraction between us only complicates this fragile alliance.

At last, we approach the outskirts of the port.

The streets open to broader cobblestone paths lit by the city’s night torches.

I can’t fully relax yet—who knows if more conspirators prowl the roads.

We keep our pace brisk, Mira and I taking point, the guards trailing behind.

The familiar architecture of Milthar’s arches and columns loom overhead, giving me a sense of returning to safer ground.

A hush falls over our small group. Mira’s breathing remains unsteady, her steps sure.

I want to say something, apologize for losing control in that moment, or maybe admit I regret not letting it happen.

The words tangle in my throat. She glances at me once, expression caught between bewilderment and understanding. Neither of us breaks the silence.

Eventually, we reach my estate gates. The guards recognize me at once, ushering us in. The courtyard is quiet, lit by soft lanterns that flicker in the night breeze. One of my staff hurries forward, worry creasing her face, but I wave her off, telling her we’re fine.

We gather in a secluded corridor near the small library, away from curious eyes. My men stand guard outside. I slump against the wall, fatigue rolling over me now that adrenaline ebbs. Mira paces a few steps, the rolled parchment clutched like a lifeline.

She finally halts, turning to face me. “We did it. That ledger is the key.”

I nod, running a hand over my battered bracer. “Yes. We have proof that Vaelen’s dealing with orcs. If we can expose him before he uses that false evidence to accuse me, we might protect Milthar from a deeper infiltration.”

Her eyes darken. “He’ll come after us once he realizes the ledger is missing. We have to move quickly.”

I rub the tension in my temple. “We’ll meet with Ortem in secret, gauge whether he’ll help. If Ortem stands with us, other senators might follow.”

She steps closer, voice dropping. “And if Ortem is too loyal to the Senate as a whole?”

I swallow, crossing my arms over my chest to hide my uncertainty. “Then we find another path. We can’t let Vaelen solidify his hold.”

Our gazes lock, weighty with the knowledge that we might be forging a perilous path.

The flicker of torches in the corridor illuminates the swirl of emotions in her eyes—relief, triumph, and that same unspoken current that nearly overwhelmed us in the warehouse.

My pulse quickens again. We’re no longer in mortal danger, but the tension remains potent.

She steps even nearer, her voice soft. “Remanos… thank you. You saved me more than once tonight. I never expected a champion to value my safety so much.”

A wry smile tugs at my mouth, though a knot winds tight in my chest at the memory of her pinned under a blade. “You’re more than a ‘trophy,’ Mira. You’ve proven that tenfold. I protect you because I want to.” My words come out quietly, carrying a weight of honesty.

Her gaze flicks to my bandaged side, concern darkening her features. “And who protects you?”

I grimace, brushing aside the pang. “I’ve managed on my own for years. But tonight, it helped having you fight beside me.”

She exhales, tension in her posture unwinding slightly. For a moment, I sense the same magnetic pull as before—a hush settling, our hearts pounding. But my men shift outside the corridor, reminding us we’re not alone. She inclines her head, stepping back a pace, as if catching herself.

“We should rest,” she murmurs, voice unsteady. “If we’re to confront Ortem or any other senator in the morning, we need a plan.”

I nod, ignoring the stab of disappointment. “Yes… I’ll see you at dawn. In the record room, perhaps. We can finalize how to present this ledger.”

She agrees, turning away. I watch her retreating form until she disappears behind the arch leading to her quarters.

My chest tightens, memories of the near-kiss flooding my thoughts: the brush of our breaths, the faint hitch in her voice.

Perhaps it’s for the best that we pulled back.

With Vaelen’s plot unraveling, any misstep threatens to unravel us too.

Yet as I stand there, leaning against the wall, I can’t deny how she sparks life in me beyond the stoic champion facade.

The city celebrates me as a warrior, but in that dim warehouse, it was the synergy with her that made me feel more than a tool of the Senate.

As if for once, I fought for something—someone—who reciprocated my conviction.

A gust of night air drifts through the corridor, cooling the beads of sweat on my fur.

I roll my shoulders, wincing at the ache, and push off the wall.

Tomorrow, we face a new battle in the Senate’s halls.

Tonight, I’ll carve out a few hours of rest, though I doubt sleep will come easily.

The memory of Mira’s closeness, the intensity in her eyes, will linger long after the warehouse’s echoes fade.

Walking slowly, I head for my own quarters.

My footsteps echo in the hushed estate. Each stride reminds me of the savage leaps I took to protect her from crossbow bolts, the raw fear of possibly losing her.

I’ve never let a single person’s wellbeing matter so much.

The thought unsettles me as much as it stirs a quiet warmth deep in my bones.

At my door, I pause, glancing at the corridor that leads to her room.

A swirl of conflicting desires churns in my chest. But I force myself inside, shutting the door behind me.

Releasing a weary breath, I move to light a small lamp.

My reflection in the polished metal mirror reveals a bruise forming on my muzzle, blood drying on the edge of my bracer.

I see a champion tested not only by political conspiracies, but by an unexpected bond forging with a fearless human who refuses to be anyone’s property.

I peel off my armor, methodically cleaning the bracer’s dent from the crossbow bolt.

Each scuff is a reminder of the fight, of how dangerously close we came to losing.

Yet we won. We even discovered Vaelen’s direct involvement.

My lips curl into a grim smile—he doesn’t realize the vulnerability he’s created by leaving that ledger in a half-secure trunk.

Soon, his illusions of control will be shattered.

But even as I plot the Senate’s downfall, I can’t escape the memory of Mira’s face.

I recall the moment her eyes fluttered, the brush of her breath on my lips, and how my heart slammed against my ribcage.

That moment teetered between a leap into unknown territory and a hasty retreat.

If we’d kissed, what then? A thousand tangled consequences swirl in my mind.

She’s no docile spoil; she’s a fierce presence with a mind of her own.

And I—my life is chained by Senate decrees, champion duties, and the guilt of every battle I’ve fought.

I undress further, cleaning a scratch along my ribs with a cloth dampened by the basin’s water.

It stings, but I welcome the pain as a reminder I’m alive and forging my own path, no matter what the Senate demands.

My reflection stares back, resolute. A champion who defies the tradition that tried to claim Mira as a trophy.

A man wrestling with the longing her presence awakens.

Shivering slightly in the cool air, I extinguish the lamp, letting the darkness blanket me.

I settle onto the bed, eyes closed, but images of tonight flicker relentlessly: Mira’s grin when we snuck inside, the clang of steel, the near-kiss radiating an electric thrill that surpasses any arena roar.

Exhaling, I remind myself we have an entire city’s fate at stake, a conspiracy that threatens to unravel Milthar’s fragile peace.

This can’t devolve into personal indulgence.

But the echo of her whisper resonates in my memory: “You saved me, Remanos.” And in that single statement, I felt something shift, as if we crossed a threshold.

I let that thought carry me into uneasy rest, planning how to strike Vaelen before he strikes us, clinging to the quiet hope that together, we can shatter the web of deception strangling Milthar—and maybe, in the aftermath, find something real between us beyond forced alliances and political strife.

Eventually, I drift, half-dreaming of moonlit warehouses and straw-littered floors.

In my mind’s eye, her face appears again, unwavering in the face of danger.

My heart stirs, an unsteady beat in the quiet of the night.

Tomorrow, the Senate. Tomorrow, Vaelen. And at my side, the woman who challenges everything I thought I knew about war, honor, and the precarious boundaries of my heart.