Page 5

The challenge is unmistakable. Karg can accept my decision or openly rebel against my leadership. There's no middle ground, no face-saving compromise.

After a moment that feels like eternity, Karg's hand drops away from his weapon. "Understood, Chieftain."

He turns and stalks away from the fire pit, several of his closest allies following in his wake.

The gathering slowly returns to normal conversation, though I notice many glances still drift toward Zahra.

She's become a curiosity now rather than just an intruder—someone who commands the chieftain's protection and has earned a grudging measure of respect.

"That was... intense," Thresh says, his earlier bravado replaced by obvious nervousness.

"Welcome to clan politics," Zahra replies dryly. "Though I have to say, your version is more direct than the dark elf approach. They prefer poison and hired assassins to public confrontation."

Her casual tone draws surprised laughter from several young warriors. The ability to find humor in tense situations—it's a trait that endears fighters to their comrades, builds the kind of bonds that hold units together under stress.

"Chieftain," Zahra says, turning toward me. "Thank you for the intervention, though I'm not sure it was necessary."

"You think you could have handled Karg alone?"

Something predatory flickers in her dark amber eyes. "I think it would have been educational for both of us."

The response sends heat shooting through my veins.

She's not boasting or trying to impress anyone—she's simply stating a fact.

Whatever skills she developed during her years as a slave, whatever methods she used to survive and kill her oppressors, she believes they would be sufficient against a veteran orc warrior.

Either she's dangerously overconfident, or there's more to her capabilities than anyone realizes.

"Perhaps," I say carefully. "But clan harmony serves everyone better than blood feuds."

"Agreed." She inclines her head respectfully. "I'll do my best to avoid future confrontations."

"See that you do." The words come out harsher than intended, colored by the possessive instincts I'm fighting to suppress. "The clan's acceptance is earned through actions, not words."

Something shutters behind her eyes at my tone, and I realize I've made an error.

She's spent the entire day proving herself through actions—enduring Khela's brutal training, standing up to Karg's intimidation, conducting herself with dignity despite her obvious exhaustion.

My implied criticism suggests that her efforts haven't been sufficient, that she needs to try harder to earn what should be freely given.

"Of course," she says, her voice carefully neutral. "I'll remember that."

The distance in her tone is akin to a physical blow. I've just undone whatever progress today's events might have made toward building trust between us, reduced our interaction to the cold formality of chieftain and subordinate.

"Zahra—" I begin, but she's already turning away.

"If you'll excuse me," she says to the group at large, "it's been a long day. I should rest if I'm to be ready for tomorrow's training."

She walks away with measured steps, her spine straight despite the fatigue that must be weighing on her. I watch her disappear into the maze of dwellings, fighting the urge to follow and apologize for my clumsiness.

"Smooth," Grimna says, appearing at my elbow. "Nothing wins a female's affection like publicly reminding her that she's on probation."

"I didn't mean?—"

"What you meant and what you said are two different things. And what she heard was probably different from both." He shakes his head. "For someone who's mastered the art of war, you're remarkably inept at handling women."

"I'm not trying to handle her," I growl.

"No? Then what would you call it?"

The question cuts to the heart of the confusion that's been plaguing me since I laid eyes on Zahra.

What do I want from her? Protection seems too simple, though I certainly feel compelled to shield her from harm.

Possession carries ugly implications that sit poorly with my sense of honor.

Partnership suggests an equality that clan dynamics make difficult to achieve.

"I don't know," I admit.

"Then perhaps you should figure it out before you do any more damage," Grimna suggests. "Because that female is going to be important with how you’re acting—to you, to the clan, maybe to our entire future. And right now, she's starting to think you see her as a burden rather than a blessing."

His words echo in my mind as I watch the last glow of firelight fade from her assigned quarters.

Somewhere in the darkness beyond our borders, dark elf patrols are searching for their escaped sacrifice.

Soon, they'll follow her trail to our territory, bringing with them the kind of conflict that could destroy everything I've built.

But looking at the small window where Zahra has disappeared, I realize the greater threat might be my own inability to navigate the complex emotions she's awakened.

Because Grimna is right about one thing—she is going to be important.

The question is whether I'm wise enough to handle that importance without destroying us both.