Page 22 of Resisting the Wicked Orc

Rava stared at me, conflict clear in her amber eyes. I could almost see the battle raging within her—pride versus practicality, independence versus need. The same struggle I’d glimpsed last night, when she’d chosen to crack open her plots and heart.

“Trust me,” I said, offering my hand.

A heartbeat passed. Two. Then her fingers slid into mine, her grip firm despite the tremor I felt in her palm.

“Lead the way, orc.”

We dressed in silence, our clothes still damp from yesterday’s impromptu swim. Rava winced as she pulled her shirt over her injured shoulder, but waved away my concern. The pendant disappeared into her pocket, though I noticed how her hand kept returning to it, as if to reassure herself it was still there.

She stopped me before I waded into the water. Stepping close, she twined the fingers of our hands together and turned her face to mine.

“One more,” she whispered, rising on her toes to press her lips against mine.

Crimson smoke swirled around us as the kiss deepened. When we broke apart, we were standing on the shore, the waterfall a shimmering curtain across the pond. Mist clung to the surface of the water, wisps dancing as the rising sun painted the sky in shades of gold and rose. In another life, another time, I might have called it romantic.

But romance had no place in our reality. Not with hunters on our trail and a destiny pulling Rava away from Silvermist, and away from me.

I watched the trees as we hiked, scanning for movement in the shadows. The forest path to Grimstone wasn’t heavily traveled, especially this early. It would take us most of the morning to reach the clan settlement, even at a brisk pace. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig set my nerves on edge.

“Tell me more about your family,” I said, partly to keep her talking, partly because I genuinely wanted to know. “You mentioned brothers, plural. How many are there?”

Rava’s tail swished thoughtfully. “Kaz is the only one who’s actually blood. But Malak and Zane are just as annoying as he is, so they count.”

“Only three? The way you talked about them, I thought there were...” I trailed off, catching her prideful look.

“What? That we were powerful? Influential?” She lifted her chin, a flash of royal bearing breaking through.

I raised an eyebrow, waiting.

“Fine. You’re right.” She deflated with a harsh sigh. “Even counting the old and young and the ones with no interest in chasing criminals, there are few cells and fighters these days.” Her voice dropped. “Even fewer Kaz trusts enough to let into his inner circle.”

“What happened?” I asked, offering a hand to help her over a fallen log.

“Politics.” She spat the word like a curse. “The Kadhan branch split from the Fitsum line generations ago when my great-great-great grandfather led a rebellion against a king who tried to sacrifice a brother to demons for more power.” Her fingers traced the pendant in her pocket. “We lost, much blood was spilled on both sides, and my great-grandfather brokered peace with my future.”

“And now?” I asked, scanning the tree line. Something felt off, a stillness in the forest that made the hair on my neck rise.

“The current Fitsum king is old,” Rava explained, her tail lashing behind her, “and Javed has eliminated or cowed his siblings to secure his position as heir.”

The birds stopped singing. Unease spread through my body like ice melting to water.

Rava noticed, too. Her eyes narrowed, and she shot a quick look to me.

“The head of the Kadhan clan is still a titled prince, but we became enforcers rather than rulers. We have our honor,” she continued, loudly, faking our unawareness. There was nothing fake in the kick she gave a stone off the path. “Unlike the Fitsum line, we keep our word. Even when they keep us like pets of the throne.”

“Rabid dogs, I’d say,” a cold voice cut through the morning air. “Pets don’t bite when their master calls.”

I whipped around, pushing Rava behind me as a figure stepped from the trees to our right. Her tail went rigid, the tip twitching with tension.

Prince Javed Fitsum was everything I expected and nothing I prepared for. Tall and imposing, with skin the color of fresh blood and eyes like molten gold. His horns curved elegantly from his temples, adorned with gold rings that caught the morning light. More gold glinted at his wrists and throat, marking him as royalty even without the arrogant tilt of his chin.

“My wayward bride,” Javed’s voice dripped with condescension as his gaze slid over Rava. “Your friend Lydia was quite helpful in tracking you down. She even told me, after some proper convincing, that you carry my wedding gift. How thoughtful,pet.”

Rava’s sharp intake of breath told me all I needed to know about Lydia’s fate.

“You didn’t have to kill her,” she said, voice tight with anger.

“I didn’t have to spare her, either.” Javed’s smile was all teeth. “Just as I don’t have to spare your creature. Give me the pendant. I won’t ask again.”

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