Page 80 of Savage Devotion
"I'm calling them what they are." Ressa's voice stays level, but I can see tension building in the set of her shoulders. "Allied forces with shared interests in regional stability."
"Allied forces." Heldrik moves around the table. "Tell me, Commander, at what point did House Vaelmark authorize alliances with non-human savages?"
Savages.The slur is designed to provoke exactly the sort of reaction that would justify whatever Heldrik has planned. I keep my expression neutral, hands loose at my sides, breathing steady despite the rage building in me.
"At what point did strategic necessity require authorization from anyone other than the field commander making tactical decisions under combat conditions?"
Good.Ressa's not backing down, not allowing him to reframe survival as betrayal. But I can see the cost of that defiance in the way her uncle's expression hardens.
"Field commanders make decisions within established parameters," he says, voice dropping to the dangerous quiet that precedes explosions. "They don't make policy. They don't negotiate treaties. And they certainly don't compromise House honor by consorting with enemies of humanity."
"Enemies determined by whom?"
"By centuries of warfare. By the blood of our people spilled on orc blades. By the simple reality that humans and orcs cannot coexist without one dominating the other."
The tent feels smaller suddenly, air thick with old hatred and newer tension. I see the rhythm building here with accusation, defense, escalation, violence. It's a pattern I've seen play out in a dozen different contexts, always ending the same way.
With blood.
"Domination." Ressa speaks the word like she's testing its weight. "Is that what you think this is about?"
"I think this is about a commander who's forgotten her duty to her people in favor of romantic fantasies about noble savages and peaceful coexistence."
Romantic fantasies.He's not wrong about the romantic part, but the dismissal stings anyway. What developed between Ressa and me in the ember-stone chamber wasn't fantasy, it was recognition. Two people finding common ground despite everything their respective cultures had taught them about each other.
"My duty is to protect human lives and advance human interests through whatever means prove most effective."
"Even if those means include betraying everything your House represents?"
"Everything my House represents includes tactical flexibility and strategic thinking."
"Your House represents human superiority maintained through strength." Heldrik's hand drops to his sword hilt. "Not compromise with lesser species."
Lesser species.Each word pelts like hammer blows, each one driving home the fundamental impossibility of what Ressa and I have been attempting. Her uncle doesn't see orcs as potential allies or individual beings capable of honor and loyalty. He sees us as animals to control or eliminate.
And animals don't get the courtesy of formal challenges or honorable duels.
"Uncle—"
"Enough." He draws his blade in one smooth motion, the steel singing as it clears the scabbard. Not his ceremonial sword, but a working weapon—serrated edge designed to cause maximum damage, balance optimized for close-quarterscombat. "You've forgotten who you are, Commander. Allow me to remind you."
The blade moves faster than expected, angling toward Ressa's throat with the precise efficiency of someone who's killed before and expects to kill again. She dodges, but the tent's confines limit her options, and Heldrik's reach advantage closes off the most obvious escape routes.
No.
My sword clears its sheath before conscious thought completes the decision. Steel rings against steel as I intercept his blade inches from Ressa's neck, the impact sending shock waves up both our arms. Heldrik's eyes widen—not with fear, but with satisfaction.
"There it is," he says softly. "The savage reveals itself."
Around us, the tent erupts into motion. Guards surge forward, hands on weapons, shouting orders and threats. Outside, I can hear the camp responding to the sound of drawn steel—boots on ground, armor clanking, voices raised in alarm and confusion.
But none of that is as important as the fact that my blade locks against his, our faces inches apart, and his hot breath touches my skin.
"You want to see savage?" I pitch my voice low enough that only he can hear. "Keep threatening her."
"Threatening?" His smile reveals teeth filed to points. A human affectation meant to appear orcish and intimidating. "I'm correcting a mistake."
"Your mistake was drawing steel in my presence."
