Page 34

REMANOS

I ’ve barely taken two steps into the foyer when I see my own Freedmen guards pinned against the wall by a pair of Senate soldiers.

Every muscle in my body tenses. One of the soldiers—a grizzled bull with a cold glare—has Mira clutched by the arm, a document clutched in his other hand.

The wide-eyed Freedmen look too stunned or outnumbered to intervene.

The entire entry buzzes with tense energy, as if the air itself has turned electric.

Mira grits her teeth, anger flashing in her hazel eyes.

She’s surrounded by four minotaur officers, each wearing the Senate’s insignia on their breastplates.

The older soldier holding the scroll brandishes it as though it’s a lethal weapon.

My Freedmen see me and straighten, relief and alarm crossing their faces.

“Champion,” one Freedman manages, voice tight. “They forced their way in with a Senate order.”

I step forward, tail snapping against the marble floor. “Release her now.”

The officer with the scroll lifts it higher, gaze flicking to me in a challenge. “She’s declared a dangerous foreigner by the Bavkus. We have orders to take her into custody.” He gestures at the Freedmen. “Move aside, or we’ll add obstruction of Senate business to your offenses.”

My entire being roils with fury. “She is under my protection. Your so-called order is nothing but Vaelen’s ploy.”

“Careful, champion,” the soldier warns, voice dripping with formality. “The Senate stands united in this. She’s accused of espionage and inciting sabotage. The hearing is imminent, and she’ll remain in Senate holding until then.”

Mira twists in the soldier’s grip, face set in defiance. “Lies. If you want me, come at me with evidence, not flimsy decrees.”

They tighten their hold on her arm, drawing an involuntary gasp from her.

Something inside me snaps. My estate is sacred ground, a fortress for my Freedmen and any guest I vow to protect.

Seeing her manhandled like a prisoner ignites a dangerous heat in my blood.

I notice her face—pale, but still blazing with ferocity—and that raw indignation turns unstoppable.

I step closer, chest heaving. “Let her go,” I repeat, voice low and trembling with anger. “Or you’ll regret this day.”

The older soldier hesitates, uncertain. He glances at the Freedmen, noticing the half-circle they form behind me. We outnumber the Senate officers, though he clings to the authority of his scroll. “We have the law behind us,” he says, albeit with less assurance.

Mira meets my gaze, a silent plea not to unleash chaos on her behalf.

But I ignore the caution in her eyes. I can’t watch them drag her away.

My Freedmen shift, hands on weapons. The officer senses the tension and tries to jerk Mira toward the door.

She stumbles but keeps her chin raised, refusing to appear subdued.

That’s it. I move in a blur, seizing the soldier’s shoulder in a crushing grip.

He lurches, twisting around to strike me with the butt of his spear, but my reflexes honed from countless battles flick aside his strike.

My Freedmen close in on the other officers, who scramble to raise weapons.

A frantic heartbeat passes—then the foyer erupts in shouts.

With a short, savage twist, I wrench the soldier’s spear free.

Mira steps aside, freeing her own arm, the guard’s hold broken.

Another officer lunges at me, but I ram the spear’s haft into his stomach, knocking him backward.

My Freedmen converge, disarming the other two.

Within moments, the four Senate soldiers stand panting, pinned to the wall by a ring of Freedmen brandishing short swords.

The old soldier with the scroll tries a final protest, voice trembling with indignation. “This is an offense against the Bavkus! You break protocol and defy the city’s highest authority. They’ll strip your champion’s rank for this.”

“Let them try,” I snap, tail lashing. My adrenaline roars, but through the haze, I sense the gravity of what I’ve just done.

Publicly fighting the Senate’s official guard is unthinkable.

Still, the memory of Mira’s fear galvanizes me.

“Get out,” I command, each syllable dripping with scorn.

“Tell Vaelen if he wants a war, he can bring the entire Senate. He won’t have her. ”

One Freedman lowers his sword enough for the soldiers to stumble free of the ring, though they remain guarded.

They exchange alarmed glances. Their leader clutches his bruised midsection, glaring at me.

“You’ll regret this, champion. The hearing is in hours, and you’ve just given the Senate proof of your treachery. ”

I snarl. “Leave my estate. Now.”

They back away, retrieving their battered weapons.

My Freedmen escort them out the open doors.

A hush settles once they vanish, the tension echoing in every breath.

For a frozen moment, no one speaks. The Freedmen regard me with mingled loyalty and shock.

I’ve effectively declared war on Senate authority.

But I don’t regret it for a second. Not while Mira stands here, free.

She stands at the center of the foyer, arms wrapped around herself as though trying to ground her trembling. Relief and anger war across her features. I stride toward her, the Freedmen stepping aside to give us space. My heart still gallops in my chest, blood roaring in my ears.

“Mira,” I manage, voice rough. “They didn’t—hurt you?”

She exhales, voice shaking. “Bruises, maybe. But I’m all right.”

Heat rushes behind my eyes, half rage, half relief. I gently cup her elbow. “Come. We need to talk in private.”

Her lips part, and for an instant I sense she’s about to protest or snap at me for risking everything.

But she nods, and we hurry down the corridor.

The Freedmen remain behind to ensure no other intruders lurk.

My pulse thunders with the knowledge that I just broke protocol, possibly dooming my champion’s title.

And yet a savage exhilaration flares, because there was no alternative.

I refuse to watch her carted off like a captive.

We slip into a side chamber near the estate’s inner courtyard—my personal study, a place usually reserved for quiet negotiations.

I shut the door behind us, feeling the heavy reality of what I’ve done.

The quiet hush of the room deepens the adrenaline crash.

Mira paces, tension coiled in every movement.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she blurts, voice trembling. “Attacking Senate soldiers in front of your Freedmen—that’s a direct slap to the Bavkus. They’ll come after you.”

I plant my hands on the edge of a wooden desk, trying to steady my breathing. “I couldn’t let them take you.” A rough edge clings to my tone. “Not after how they threatened you, after everything we’ve done to expose Vaelen. Why would I stand aside and watch them drag you to a cell?”

She meets my eyes, desperation shining. “I’m not worth your entire future. The champion’s mantle means everything to you—this city depends on you.”

My heart clenches. “Is that what you think? That your life means less than a title the Senate bestows?”

She rakes both hands through her hair, cheeks flushed. “You’ve bled for this city. If they remove you, who protects Milthar from orc raids? I don’t want to be the reason your city is left vulnerable.”

Emotion surges, too raw to contain. “Mira… I can’t watch you caged. This city is built on illusions if it discards innocence for political convenience. If they truly want me gone for defending you, let them. I refuse to stand by while you’re treated like a criminal.”

She exhales a shaky breath, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. “You’re so foolish sometimes. Why do you do this?” Her voice cracks. “Why risk everything for me?”

I can’t tear my gaze away from her. She stands inches away, trembling with fear and anger, yet all I can see is how fiercely she’s fought to protect me as well—her search for evidence, her unwavering loyalty.

“Because you’re not just some foreigner, Mira.

And I can’t abide a world where you’re punished for telling the truth. ”

She seems poised to argue, but the fight drains from her posture. Her tears hover, unshed, as she murmurs, “I’m scared for you.”

The rawness of her admission pierces me. I step closer, closing the distance. My chest feels tight with unspoken emotions. “Don’t be. I’ve survived orc champions, political manipulations, the arena’s deadliest contenders. I can weather the Senate.”

She lifts her chin, though her shoulders still tremble. “I don’t want you to lose Milthar’s respect, or your Freedmen’s future. They look up to you… If the Senate brands you a traitor?—”

I cup her face, gentle yet firm. “They can brand me any label they like. My sense of honor doesn’t hinge on their decree.”

For a moment, the tension in the air thickens as we stare at each other, everything that’s been simmering threatening to boil over. She swallows, voice wavering. “I never wanted to be the cause of your downfall.”

My heart twists. “You’re not. Vaelen and his conspirators are. You’re the reason I see clearly how corrupt they’ve become.”

She releases a choked sound, half sob, half laugh, pressing her hands over mine.

An electric jolt runs through me at her touch.

The swirl of relief and anger entwines with longing.

We stand in silent stillness, our breaths mingling.

The threat of the Senate lurks like a monstrous shadow at the edge of consciousness, but right now, I only feel her presence—vibrant, defiant, heartbreakingly vulnerable.