Page 68 of Savage Devotion
"You know these tunnels. You understand orc clan politics. You're probably the only person in fifty miles who can tell the whether it's Echo Spirits and actual ghosts." She pauses. "And despite your charming paranoia, you're one of the few people I trust to watch my back."
Trust.
The word sits heavy between us. I want to believe her, but trust is a luxury I've never been able to afford. Too many people have proven that loyalty lasts only as long as it's convenient.
"Trust is earned," I say.
"Yes. It is." She turns away, surveying the blocked entrance more. "Which is why this conversation is particularly unfortunate timing."
Something in her tone makes my gut clench. "Meaning?"
"Meaning I have something to tell you. Something you're not going to like."
The serpent of fear in my stomach coils tighter. "What?"
Ressa runs her hand along the fallen stones, testing their stability before she answers. When she speaks, her voice is carefully neutral.
"House Vaelmark has been placing agents in orc territories for months. Gathering intelligence on clan movements, trade routes, internal conflicts."
"Spies."
"Yes."
"In my clan."
"Yes."
Rage builds hot and sudden as forge fire. I spin away from her, fists clenched, fighting the urge to put my hands around her throat.
Of course. Of course she knew.
The spy network we've been hunting. She's part of it.
Everything she's done, everything she's said, has been manipulation.
"How many?" My voice sounds distant even to me.
"I don't know specifics. That information was compartmentalized."
"How long have you known?"
"About the overall operation? Months. About agents in your specific clan?" She pauses. "I suspected. Wasn't certain until yesterday."
"Yesterday." I turn back to face her, and she must see something in my expression because her hand moves unconsciously toward her sword hilt. "You've known since yesterday and you didn't tell me."
"I was gathering evidence. Trying to identify specific individuals."
"While lying to my face."
"While protecting an ongoing investigation."
The distinction feels meaningless. Betrayal is betrayal, regardless of the justification.
"The envoy," I say, pieces falling into place. "The one passing messages to Heldrik. He wasn't working against you—he was workingforyou."
"I don't know. Maybe. Probably." Her composure is cracking, frustration bleeding through. "The spy network isn't centralized. Different cells, different handlers, different objectives. I know about the operation but not the operational details."
"Convenient."
