Page 9

My soldiers gather in a tight formation, surrounding our captives. A hush settles on the courtyard now that our target is seized. I straighten, forcing the woman away from the wall. She stumbles, and I tug the chain connecting her cuffs, keeping her close.

She fixes me with that piercing stare again, chest rising and falling in rapid pulses. Despite the dirt on her cheeks and the exhaustion lining her features, she radiates raw ferocity. It’s all I can do not to stare too long. A muscle in my jaw clenches.

“We’re done here,” I say, turning to my men. “Return to the upper district. Inform the council we have the purna.”

One of the soldiers voices his excitement, rattling off how the nobility will reward us for securing such a prize.

The mention of a “prize” makes my gut twist. This woman is no ordinary captive.

Everything about her screams danger, from her posture to the lethal glint in her gaze.

The child remains silent, tears glistening on her lashes.

I start leading them away, guided by torchlight.

Her pace is forced by the chains, but she never stumbles for long.

It’s as if she won’t give me the satisfaction of seeing her truly falter.

Beneath that cloak, she’s all tense muscles and unspoken threats.

The night sky above Lowtown glimmers with the last traces of moonlight, painting a ghostly reflection on the puddles beneath our feet.

As we exit the courtyard, she mutters under her breath, “You’ll regret this.”

I allow myself a cold smile. “You’re in no position to threaten me.

” Yet I can’t shake the unsettled thrill that courses through my veins.

The memory of her pinned against the wall, breath ghosting across my cheek, replays in my mind.

She’s not like any enemy I’ve cornered before.

There’s something else there—something that makes me question whether I’ve truly emerged the victor.

We navigate twisted alleys, ignoring the stares of half-starved onlookers too afraid to interfere.

Each step away from Lowtown’s grime brings us closer to Orthani’s higher tiers, where the spires loom and the architecture gleams with the dark elves’ wealth.

My men keep the captives in the center, ensuring no attempt at escape.

I steal a glance at her. She’s studying everything, from the positions of my soldiers to the shadowy nooks along the path.

She’s searching for weaknesses, no doubt.

That cunning sets my nerves on edge. My jaw tightens at the recollection of her defiance.

The purna I despise are normally cowering or wrathful, never so calmly resilient.

Her eyes flick to mine. For a heartbeat, an unspoken challenge arcs between us.

Tension crackles as I recall how her body felt pinned under my grip, how the energy in her skin brushed my senses.

An unwelcome throb of heat curls low in my gut.

I crush it immediately. She’s my prisoner, a threat, a witch with the power to burn this city if we let her. That’s all.

We move in a single file past barricades, ignoring the jeers of a few drunken humans.

The closer we get to the better-patrolled streets, the fewer onlookers remain.

My men set a brisk pace, eager to hand these captives to the court.

The child stumbles from time to time, and the woman steadies her, not minding the cold iron biting into her wrists.

Silence hangs heavily, broken only by the scuff of boots and the distant clamor of Lowtown behind us.

When we finally emerge onto a better-maintained avenue, I catch sight of Orthani’s sprawling ramparts overhead, carved with menacing reliefs of winged beasts.

Lamps burn with flickering purple flames, a hallmark of the city’s harnessed arcane energy.

The swirling shadows thrown by those flames reflect across the woman’s face, highlighting her scornful expression.

My frustration melds with an undercurrent of fascination, warring in my chest. I’ve never felt drawn to someone I so thoroughly despise.

It’s disorienting, and I hate it. I lead the way without a word, ignoring the knot forming in my gut.

My men flank us, pride in their postures.

They captured the purna, they’re bringing her to justice—there will be praise, maybe a commendation.

I should be satisfied, yet my thoughts stray to the memory of her voice, her sneering dare for me to come claim her.

We cross a final bridge above a canal that glows with faint magical residue.

The flicker of torchlight plays over her face, and she meets my stare with a silent vow of retribution.

I can almost taste the tension. The distant stars overhead watch indifferently, while the towering spires of Orthani seem to press down like spectators eager for the coming spectacle.

As we approach the outskirts of the main fortress, the iron gates loom. My men slow, shifting uncomfortably. They sense something, perhaps the raw hatred rolling off the woman. Or perhaps they recall stories of what the court does to purna once they’re interrogated.

I keep my grip on her cuffs, guiding her forward. She tenses, trying to yank away. I hold firm. “You’ll get your moment before the inner court,” I murmur, voice low so that only she hears. “Don’t waste your breath on false bravado.”

Her gaze flickers with fury. “I never waste my breath.”

My heart thuds painfully, though I keep my face neutral.

We pass through the gates, stepping into a paved courtyard lit by arcane braziers.

Black statues of dark elf warriors line the walls, each carved with impeccable detail.

The entire space hums with authority. A handful of lesser guards glance our way, curiosity evident in their expressions as they see the chained woman and the trembling child.

My men deposit the child into a separate hold, ignoring her tears. The woman bares her teeth, frustration etched into every line of her face. She tries to lunge for the child, but the chain restrains her. I yank her back, my voice clipped. “Enough.”

She breathes fast and uneven, glancing around. Then she settles that molten stare on me. I see the faintest glimmer of raw anguish behind her anger. Something pangs in my chest. I lock it down.

One of my subordinates steps forward, saluting. “Commander, the court should convene at first light. What are your orders for her in the meantime?”

I hesitate, absorbing the unexpected weight of that question. She’s captured, but our superiors might demand immediate interrogation. Still, they said they wanted her alive. “We’ll keep her in the secured wing until we receive further instructions.”

The soldier nods. I push the purna toward him, forcing her to break eye contact with me.

Her tense muscles resist, but there’s no choice left for her.

She’s shackled, surrounded by armed guards, and the child is in custody.

As they move to lead her away, she glances over her shoulder.

That single look brims with unspoken vows that make my spine prickle, like I’m glimpsing a tempest caged behind those dark eyes.

My throat constricts, though I can’t pinpoint why.

I snap my attention to the nearest guard. “Keep watch. Don’t underestimate her, understood?”

The guard nods, gripping the chains. The purna is led down a hallway, her figure disappearing into torchlit corridors. The flickering flames paint shifting shapes on the stone walls, and I’m left with a keen awareness that something irreversibly changed tonight.

My men disperse, murmuring about securing the child and reporting to King Rython’s council.

I stand alone for a moment in the courtyard, midnight wind brushing across my face.

My pulse still hammers, refusing to settle.

She’s just another prisoner, I tell myself.

Another threat neutralized, a victory for Orthani.

Yet the memory of her defiant stance gnaws at me, fueling an unfamiliar heat that I can’t quite banish.

I remind myself that I despise purna for what they are, for the betrayal that cost me my fiancée’s life.

But something about this woman unsettles me —she wields her power with a quiet, lethal confidence that sticks under my skin.

I finally turn away, steps echoing on the dark stone.

The city waits to watch her fate, and perhaps mine, unfold in the days to come.

As I ascend toward the war chambers to file my report, I clench my fists, determined to bury any notion that her power or presence could tempt me.

She’s a prisoner, a purna, and her place is in chains.

That’s what I tell myself, even as the echo of her gaze haunts me like a distant drumbeat in the night.