Page 55 of The Orc's Wife

Now he wouldn’t be able to catch her braid.

A sparkle of hope lit inside my chest. Oriana would fight to win. Win – or tire him out, waiting for the poison to work. Maybe there was hope yet…

The Imperator bellowed, his roar going straight to my bones and filling me with primal fear. He charged.

He was running deceptively slowly, taking long, powerful strides, but his legs were incredibly long, and he had reached Oriana in no time. She jumped out of his way, but not fast enough. One of his fists grazed her arm, making her spin in place and lose her balance.

She fell.

I was squeezing Urgan’s palm so hard his claws were digging into my skin, but I didn’t mind. The Imperator was stalking Oriana now, taking leisurely steps, walking around her as she was trying to get up off the ground, breathing fast.

“Impressive, human woman. You took one strike and didn’t die. You’re strong – for a human.”

He was mocking her now, gloating about his obvious advantage, his superior strength. And Oriana was taking a long time to get up. I had her pegged for someone who would just stand up without a fuss and get her fists ready to punch, but she kept sliding back to the ground, huffing and puffing exaggeratedly…

“Oh,” I breathed, too softly for anyone but Urgan to catch.

He squeezed my hand. He had noticed it, too. Oriana was pretending, playing for time. Who knew, maybe she had even let him hit her. She knew he wouldn’t just finish her off. The Imperator loved giving a performance.

“Come on,” he said now, stepping away. “Will you stand up, brave warrior? Or are you ready to yield, after just one hit?”

He laughed out loud, and the orcs followed him, shrieking with laughter.

And then, he swayed. Just a tiny movement, but on one as large as a tree, it was obvious. He blinked once, righted himself, and looked at Oriana. His fangs were bared. Playtime was over.

She must have realized it too, because she finally stood up, her body not worse for wear. She was standing proudly, her feet planted on the hard ground, her hands loose at her sides.

I just realized. She wasn’t holding a weapon. She had sheathed her sword after cutting her hair off.

The Imperator rushed at her again, his axe held low, so it could cut Oriana in half if it reached her. She ducked under the blade, though, and ran forward. Before the Imperator could slow his momentum and stop, she was far away, on the other side of the ring of spectators.

“Playing cat and mouse? So humanlike,” he snarled. “Instead of bravely facing your enemy, you run. Like vermin.”

Oriana tilted her head to the side but said nothing. She was watching him, waiting for his next move.

She didn’t have to wait long. The Imperator raised his axe, fast as lightning, and let it fly low over the ground. Oriana jumped to the side, and the axe blade buried itself in an orc’s foot.

He cried out in pain, and the palace guards yanked him back and took him away, leaving the axe lying on the ground, smeared with orc blood. Oriana was grinning, and the Imperator was scowling, the red mist back over his eyes.

“Such a great Imperator,” Oriana jeered. “You keep throwing weapons around, you may raze down all your subjects. Only dumb orcs could follow someone like you.”

He charged her, and this time, he was careful, stalking her like a predator, cutting away her options of escape. Oriana’s smile was gone, a look of hard concentration on her face. For every step he took, she took two steps, a strange dance where they were meticulously keeping their distance.

He had taken out his sword, but he didn’t wave it around. Oriana’s back was to the crowd, and the spectators were slowly edging back, eyeing the Imperator’s sword anxiously. The ring was getting bigger, allowing Oriana room to maneuver.

He struck suddenly, with uncanny speed. He hit the side of her head, and Oriana went flying, landing in a crumpled heap on the ground. The Imperator stood over her, watching with triumph as she tried to crawl away from him, but her limbs were weak. Blood was trailing down her cheek.

“See, human? You are… You are…”

There was a loud thud behind me. I glanced there – Ragan was lying on the ground, shaking. Bloody foam was spilling out of his mouth.

All around us, orcs were falling to their knees, some still trying to keep upright, shaking their heads as if to clear them, others shuddering uncontrollably.

The Imperator swayed, blinking hard. He pushed the heels of his palms into his eyes, but now his legs were shaking, too.

Oriana slowly got to all fours, and then picked herself up. She was shaking, too. Her silver hair was sticky with blood. The Imperator fell to his knees, but he was still strong. When she passed too close to him, he tried to grab her, and got hold of her leather skirt.

But the leather was tough and smooth, not easy to grip. Oriana managed to yank it out of his hand. He watched dumbly, swaying harder, as she picked up his axe. She dragged it to him, the weapon much too heavy for her to carry easily. Why was she taking the axe instead of unsheathing her sword?

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