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His humor fades into seriousness. We stare at each other, the unspoken question returning: do we keep ignoring the spark that’s become so potent, or risk it all?

My throat tightens, uncertain how to voice the swirl of feelings.

Perhaps we can’t safely indulge in closeness while Vaelen hunts us.

My heart aches at the thought, but reality is cruel.

He breaks the moment with a quiet murmur. “You should rest. We’ll need you at your best tonight.”

“Right,” I manage, though rest seems impossible. “Thank you again… for saving me.”

A flicker of longing crosses his features. “I’d do it a thousand times.” Then he steps back, letting me slip away with the treatise, hearts thrumming in quiet tandem.

I retreat to the estate’s small library, laying out the tome on a wide wooden desk.

My mind replays the storeroom fight in endless loops—how close I came to losing everything, and how Remanos’s arrival felt like an anchor in a raging sea.

For the next hours, I pore over the ancient text, translating archaic passages into clear bullet points.

The parallels to Vaelen’s modern tactics are uncanny: enforced orc raids, manipulated treaties, even mention of forging seals to pin blame on political rivals.

My hope swells that these parallels, combined with the contraband evidence, might rouse enough senators or merchants to challenge Vaelen’s hold.

As evening drapes the courtyard in gold light, I close the tome with a sigh, scribbling final notes on a separate sheet.

My shoulder still throbs, but the bruise is a small price for what we gained.

The fight in the storeroom feels both far away and disturbingly fresh, each clang of memory reminding me how precarious my life is here.

I gather my papers, heading toward my room to prepare for tonight’s meeting with the merchants.

In a corridor, I nearly collide with Remanos, who appears as if summoned by my thoughts.

He’s changed into simpler clothing, a dark tunic that accentuates his powerful build, horns polished for formality.

The sight sends a flutter through my stomach, recalling how intimately we touched.

It’s a closeness we can’t easily revisit, but it lingers in the air between us.

He offers a faint nod. “Ortem left after a short talk. He’s not fully convinced, but he’ll listen to our evidence at the hearing. That’s… something.”

I nod, forcing optimism. “We have a chance, then. Show him the parallels in these treaties, and maybe he’ll stand with us.”

He reaches for the parchments in my arms, letting his fingers graze mine. My pulse skips. “Let me carry that for you. You look ready to collapse.”

I yield, albeit reluctantly. “I’m all right.” My voice dips, quieter. “I just can’t believe how much I rely on you now. I spent so long pushing you away.”

His gaze softens. “Mira, we both fought this from the start. Neither wanted to be tied by the Senate’s whims. Yet here we are, fighting for each other’s survival.”

A wave of conflicting emotion hits me: gratitude, longing, the sting of fear. I swallow. “And… about last night. Or the other nights. I just— We can’t slip, can we?” My cheeks warm, remembering the desperation in our embraces.

He looks pained. “It’s too risky. Vaelen would spin it as you seducing me for your agenda, fueling the Senate’s demand to separate us. But that doesn’t stop me from?—”

He clamps his jaw, words trailing off. But I sense the unspoken confession, as tangible as a heartbeat.

My throat constricts. “Nor me,” I whisper.

We hover in that fragile space again. My chest aches with how much I need him, but we both know the cost if we yield to these urges. The city is a viper’s nest.

A staff member clears his throat from the corridor’s far end, announcing that Remanos’s carriage is ready for the merchant meeting. We break apart, tension thrumming. I steady myself, nodding briskly. “Let’s get this done.”

We make our way to the courtyard, each step a measured defiance of Vaelen’s demands to keep me hidden away.

Two discreet guards accompany us, sworn to Remanos’s loyalty.

We climb into a small, unmarked carriage, the shutters drawn to avoid attention.

The ride is terse, the clop of hooves echoing through narrow streets as twilight descends.

Through a crack in the shutter, I glimpse the city lights flickering to life.

Milthar’s architecture stands proud, columns and arches lit by torch-glow.

But I can’t admire the beauty while fear coils in my gut.

The city archives nearly claimed me this morning, and who knows what tonight’s meeting might bring?

Eventually, the carriage stops in a humble district near the eastern docks.

We disembark in a quiet alley. Remanos leads us to a modest warehouse belonging to a mid-level guild that trades spices and textiles.

Inside, a small group of merchants gathers around a lantern-lit table.

Their eyes widen at the sight of me—human, rumored troublemaker—but they greet Remanos with a respect tinted by wariness.

Clearly, they know the Senate might disapprove of this meeting.

One merchant, a middle-aged minotaur with a salt-and-pepper muzzle, steps forward. “Champion, we only agreed to meet because the orcs’ raids threaten our livelihoods. Is it true you suspect someone in the Vakkak class fuels these attacks?”

Remanos nods gravely. “Yes. We have partial proof linking Senator Vaelen to secret arms deals with orcs. He aims to create unrest, manipulating trade for personal gain. But we need your voices to pressure the Senate into a formal inquiry.”

I present my battered treatise. “Older records show how certain nobles historically used orc raids to coerce trade advantages. Vaelen is following that blueprint. If we don’t stop him, your caravans might be next.”

A hush descends as they skim the passages I’ve marked.

Murmurs break out. Some share incredulous looks, others whisper about bribes they suspected.

The tension thickens. I sense real alarm in their faces.

This is no minor matter—if Vaelen can orchestrate violence to profit, the merchants risk losing fortunes, even lives.

The older minotaur sets the treatise down, gaze flicking to Remanos. “The Senate rarely bows to merchant demands, but if we gather enough guilds to refuse cooperation until a hearing is held, they’ll have to listen. Are you certain Vaelen is behind this?”

Remanos clenches his jaw. “Yes. He’s threatened to remove me from champion’s post if I speak out. And he’s threatened to hand Mira to the orcs.”

Anger flares in the merchants. Another minotaur, younger, hisses, “We heard rumors she’s a spy. Now we see the Senate might be twisting that. Are you sure she’s telling the truth?”

I straighten, meeting their eyes. “I risk my life daily to expose Vaelen’s corruption. I have no love for orcs. Believe me, if we don’t act, they’ll gain more footholds, and your goods—your entire livelihoods—will be next in line for sabotage.”

The merchants exchange uneasy glances, then nod. The older one speaks, voice grave, “We’ll reach out to fellow guilds. If your evidence is strong, we’ll back you in pressing for a formal inquiry. But be cautious—Vaelen may strike first if he suspects we side with you.”

Relief mingles with dread. We thank them quietly, stepping outside into the cool night air. Remanos’s tension eases a fraction, though the flicker of street torches reveals the strain in his face. “This is a start. If enough guilds unite, Vaelen won’t silence them easily.”

I nod, heart pounding with fragile hope. “Yes. We might stand a chance.”

Our guards lead us back to the carriage.

As we climb in, a subtle warmth spreads in my chest. We accomplished something tonight.

If the merchants follow through, we’ll have allies.

The ride back to the estate passes in hushed contemplation.

I keep glancing at Remanos’s profile, the lamplight casting his horns in soft relief.

Each time I recall how close we came to losing each other, emotion swells.

When we arrive, the courtyard is empty save for a lone torch by the main doors.

I slip out of the carriage, exhaustion washing over me.

Remanos joins me, his presence a steadying force.

We walk side by side through the portico.

Neither guard follows us into the estate’s interior.

We pass corridor after corridor, the hush enveloping us like a heavy cloak.

At the library archway, I pause. My breath catches as I sense him halt beside me, longing flickering.

We’re both shaken by how entwined our fates have become, how reliant we are on each other’s strength.

That unspoken question—Should we keep fueling this closeness, or lock it away? —hangs in the space between us.

He turns, voice husky with weariness and something deeper. “You need rest. Tomorrow is the hearing.”

I swallow, nodding. “You too.”

Our eyes meet, the tension swirling. I recall how quickly he rescued me today, how fiercely he defended me.

The memory of last night’s closeness hovers, but we both know we can’t indulge in that again with Vaelen’s watchers at every corner.

Even so, the warmth in my chest yearns for more than fleeting safety. I wonder if he feels the same pull.

He exhales, stepping slightly closer. My heart thuds. “Mira,” he begins, voice subdued, “I don’t know how to walk this line—between needing you at my side and wanting to protect you from all of this.”

Emotion wells up in my throat. “I don’t either,” I whisper. “But every time I try to handle things alone, it ends badly. I… I trust you more than any Senate vow.”

A faint tremor passes through him. “I trust you, too.” His hand lifts, fingers brushing my forearm in a gesture that electrifies the quiet air. “We’ll figure out how to stand against Vaelen, how to keep you safe. But after that… I don’t want us to be forced apart by city politics.”

Tears threaten to sting my eyes. “Nor do I. Let’s survive tomorrow first.”

He manages a small, tense smile. “Yes. Survive tomorrow, then see what future we can carve for ourselves.”

An ache of yearning pulses inside me. We linger, each breath shared, but no further words can bridge the complexities swirling around us.

Finally, I muster the will to slip away, carrying the treatise toward my room.

As I walk, I sense his gaze following me until I vanish around the corner.

My chest is a riot of hope, terror, and a fragile spark of happiness.

Everything rests on the hearing—exposing Vaelen’s pattern of orc manipulation, rallying the merchants, and somehow keeping Remanos’s champion title intact so we can keep fighting.

Tomorrow, Vaelen will try to brand me a threat, tearing me from Remanos’s side.

But I refuse to let them break what we’ve begun building.

We might be a mismatched pair caught in a corrupt city’s crosshairs, but we’re stronger together.

And if the Senate underestimates our resolve—well, they’ll soon learn how determined a human traveler and an honor-bound champion can be, especially when their hearts and futures lie on the same line.

Tonight, I cling to that stubborn faith, ignoring the throbbing bruise in my shoulder and the swirl of fear.

Tomorrow, we face the Senate. For now, the promise of Remanos’s loyalty, proven in the dusty chaos of the city archives, steadies me.

No matter the Senate’s verdict, we won’t surrender to Vaelen’s tyranny.

And if we must risk everything to see truth prevail, so be it. We choose it willingly, side by side.