Page 53 of Savage Devotion
I follow her outside, but my attention is on Tarn. He's speaking quietly with one of the junior officers near the supply wagons, exactly where Vorth said he'd seen the coded message exchange. As I watch, Tarn glances around carefully, then slips something small into the other man's hand.
There.
The transaction is quick, professional, and nearly invisible unless you know what to look for. But I've seen enough battlefield intelligence work to recognize a dead drop when I see one. Tarn has just passed another message, another piece of information about Ressa's activities.
"I'll catch up with you," I tell Ressa. "Something I need to check."
She nods absently, still lost in her own thoughts about the morning's accusations. I let her walk toward the ridge while I circle back through camp, following Tarn as he makes his way toward the shadowed corridors between the storage tents.
This is where the actual business happens. Tarn moves with the confidence of a man who knows he's untouchable, protected by his position and his patron's favor.
He's wrong.
I catch him in the narrow passage between two supply wagons, my approach silent as mountain mist. He senses something at the last second, turns, but my hand is already on his shoulder, spinning him around and slamming him against the canvas wall.
"Tarn."
His eyes widen with genuine surprise, then narrow with calculation. "Commander Ironspine. Can I help you with something?"
"You can start by explaining the coded messages."
For just a moment, his mask slips. I see fear flicker across his features, followed quickly by defensive anger. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"The messages to Heldrik. About Lady Ressa's movements. Her tactical decisions. Her personal associations."
Tarn straightens, trying to regain his composure. "Even if such communications existed, which I'm not admitting, they would be well within the scope of my duties as an intelligence officer. Keeping the commander informed about all relevant developments."
"Including private conversations between allies?"
"Including potential security risks." His voice hardens. "Which is exactly what you are, orc. A security risk wrapped in false loyalty."
The accusation stings more than it should. Not because I believe it, but because I can see how easily others might. An orc warrior, embedded in human command structure, with access to sensitive information and private moments with their most capable field commander.
"You're working to undermine her authority."
"I'm working to protect this command from a woman who's forgotten her duty and her true family." Tarn's eyes blaze with self-righteous conviction. "Who's so blinded by orc charm that she can't see the knife aimed at her back."
"What knife?"
"Yours, obviously. Did you think we were fools? That we couldn't see the pattern?" He leans forward, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "Every time she meets with you, our patrol routes get hit. Every time she shares intelligence, our supply convoys get raided. You're feeding information to your clan, and she's too besotted to realize it."
Not because it's true. It isn't, but because it's exactly the logic that could destroy everything we've built. Correlation twisted into causation, coincidence molded into conspiracy.
"You're wrong."
"Am I? Then explain the timing. Explain why Bloodfang raids have increased since your arrival. Explain why they always seem to know exactly where to strike." Tarn's smile is cold, triumphant. "Face it, orc. You've been found out."
I study his face, looking for the telltale signs of deception, the micro-expressions that separate truth from lies. What I find is worse than dishonesty. I find genuine belief. Tarn isn't just spinning a convenient fiction to justify his actions. He actuallybelieves that I'm a spy, that Ressa is a fool, that his betrayal is patriotic duty.
Which means this goes deeper than one ambitious officer looking to advance his career. This is ideological warfare, and they disagree about how to fight this conflict and who they can trust to do it.
"She trusts you," I say finally.
"Then she's a bigger fool than I thought." Tarn says with genuine pity now, which is worse than his earlier anger. "But don't worry, orc. When this is over, when the truth comes out, I'll make sure she receives appropriate consideration for her misguided loyalties."
The promise sounds like a threat wrapped in silk. Whatever Tarn has planned, whatever evidence he thinks he's gathering, it won't end with Ressa's simple removal from command. It will end with her disgrace, her exile, possibly her execution for treason.
Unless I stop it first.
