Page 10 of Owned By the Orc Warlord
"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 beimportant. The question is whether I'm wise enough to handle that importance without destroying us both.
5
ZAHRA
The crude sleeping furs scratch against my skin as I lie awake in the warriors' quarters, listening to the rumbling snores that echo off stone walls. My body aches from Khela's training, each bruise a tender reminder that I'm still alive when I should be dead on The Serpent's altar. But it's not physical pain that keeps sleep at bay—it's the churning thoughts that refuse to quiet.
Clan harmony serves everyone better than blood feuds.
Rogar's words replay in my mind like a curse, each repetition driving the knife of disappointment deeper. For a brief, foolish moment by the fire, I'd allowed myself to believe he might see me as more than a political liability. The way he'd looked at me during training, the careful protection he'd offered—I'd mistaken it for something approaching respect.
His reminder that my acceptance must be earned stripped away that illusion with surgical precision.
A soft rustle of movement draws my attention to the far corner where Thresh tosses restlessly on his own sleeping furs. The young warrior has been stealing glances at me since we settled in for the night, his inexperience making his interestpainfully obvious. Under different circumstances, his attention might be flattering. Tonight, it only emphasizes how utterly alone I am in this place.
You could leave.
The thought whispers through my mind like poison, seductive in its simplicity. The Stormfang warriors sleep deeply, confident in their strength and the natural barriers that protect their settlement. It would be easy to slip away into the darkness, to disappear into the vast wasteland beyond and seek my fortune elsewhere.
But where would I go? The dark elves control every civilized territory on this continent, and the stories of other lands are too fragmented to offer real hope. At least here, I have a chance to grow stronger, to learn skills that might keep me alive in a hostile world.
If they let you live long enough to learn them.
Tonight's confrontation with Karg proved how precarious my position really is. Rogar's protection extends only as far as his authority, and that authority depends on clan support. How long before the cost of harboring me outweighs any perceived benefit? How long before even my strongest defender decides I'm more trouble than I'm worth?
