And yet...

A knock at the door jolts me from my brooding reverie. "Enter," I growl, straightening in my chair, my face settling into its usual stern mask.

It's Sharak, my second-in-command and closest confidant. He strides into the room, his craggy face set in lines of concern. "You summoned me, my lord?"

"I did." I gesture for him to sit, pouring us each a goblet of firewine from the carafe on the table. "I need your counsel, old friend. On a matter of some...delicacy."

Sharak raises a bushy eyebrow as he takes a seat, accepting the goblet I hand him. "This is about the human girl, isn't it? The Red Blade?"

I grimace, taking a deep draught of the potent wine. Trust Sharak to cut straight to the heart of the matter. "Am I so transparent?"

He snorts, his eyes glinting with wry amusement. "Only to those who know you well, my lord. Which is a vanishingly small number, in case you're worried."

I feel a small, tense knot in my chest ease slightly. Sharak has been by my side since we were younglings, clawing our way up through the ranks together. If I can't trust him, I can trust no one.

"It's just...I find myself questioning things, Sharak. Things I've always taken for granted." I lean forward, bracing my elbows on the table, my hands clasped tight before me. "We've always been taught that humans are weak, inferior. That they exist only to be conquered and enslaved, their lands and resources ours by right of strength."

"As is the way of our people," Sharak nods, his expression guarded. "The strong rule, the weak serve. It is the natural order."

"But what if it's not?" I press, my voice low and urgent. "What if there's more to them than we've allowed ourselves to see? More to her?"

Sharak is silent for a long moment, sipping his wine, his eyes distant. "She's gotten under your skin, hasn't she?" he says at last, his tone carefully neutral.

I slam my goblet down, sloshing wine across the table. "That's just it!" I snarl, frustration and confusion boiling over. "She shouldn't be able to! She's a human, a prisoner, a means to an end. But every time I look at her, every time we speak, I feel..."

I trail off, groping for words to describe the tempest raging inside me. "I feel challenged," I say finally, my voice rough. "Challenged and confused and...and alive, Sharak. Alive in a way I haven't felt in years, maybe ever."

Sharak leans back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. "She is...unique, I'll grant you that," he says slowly. "Strong. Fierce. Clever, too. She'd make a formidable ally...or a dangerous enemy."

"She's already our enemy," I point out, but the words feel hollow, rote.

"Is she?" Sharak shrugs. "She fights for her people, as we fight for ours. Does that make her evil, or simply loyal? Can we truly fault her for that?"

I stare at him, amazed. In all our years of war and conquest, I've never heard Sharak speak of a human with anything approaching respect, let alone understanding. "You admire her," I realize, a strange, unnameable emotion twisting in my gut.

He meets my gaze steadily. "I admire strength, my lord. In whatever form it takes." He leans forward, his expression intense. "But admiration is one thing. What you're feeling...that's something else entirely."

I look away, my jaw clenching. He's right, curse him. This goes beyond simple respect or even grudging affection. What I feel for Lily, this bone-deep pull, this aching awareness...it's like nothing I've ever experienced before. It terrifies me even as it thrills me, shaking the very foundations of who and what I am.

"I don't know what to do, Sharak," I confess, my voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know how to reconcile what I feel for her with my duty to our people, to our way of life."

"Then don't," he says bluntly. I blink at him, startled, and he sighs. "Grok...you are the Warlord. Your word is law, your will absolute. If you decree that the Red Blade is to be treated as an honored guest rather than a prisoner, who will gainsay you?"

I stare at him, my mind racing. Could it be that simple? To just...choose her, claim her, damn the consequences? The idea is at once terrifying and exhilarating.

But...

"I can't just turn my back on everything we've built, everything we've fought for," I say, anguish clawing at my throat. "My people need me, depend on me. To show weakness now, to be seen as favoring a human..."

"Then don't be seen," Sharak says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Keep her close, learn from her, use her knowledge to strengthen your rule and crush our enemies. Let the clan see her as your tool, your weapon, not your weakness."

I frown, turning it over in my mind. It's a delicate balance he's proposing, a dangerous game. But it's one I find myself desperate to play. Because the alternative...

The alternative is letting her go. And that, I realize with sudden, startling clarity, is no longer an option. Not for me.

I blow out a long, slow breath, feeling the weight of decision settle on my shoulders. "Very well," I say, my voice grim with resolve. "I will do as you counsel. I will keep her at my side, as advisor and strategist. But only that."

I fix Sharak with a hard stare, letting a hint of my power, my dominance, bleed into my gaze. "She is not to be touched, by anyone. Not harmed, not coerced, not so much as looked at askance. She is under my protection now. Make sure that's understood."