Page 11 of Promised To the Orc
Exhaling with satisfaction, he turns his dead eyes to me. “What is your proposition, human?”
My nostrils flare. Now is my chance. “Free humans. Write a new decree that makes humans equal to orcs in every way and enforces punishments to those that hunt us.”
A sardonic grin plays on his lips. “Why would I do that?”
“Because I will give you every ounce of remaining orichalcum that I have for your swordsmiths to use. Swords, battleaxes, knives. They’ll make you the most powerful weapons in the kingdom.”
Playing into my hand, I slightly bow my head. “Powerful weapons for a powerful king.”
Tor is looking at me, but I don’t return his gaze. He’ll see right through me, and I don’t trust him. My heart races beneath the weight of his stare and my body longs to move closer to him and his heat.
“That is quite the proposition, human. But you’re forgetting that I am king of this realm. What’s stopping me from taking the orichalcum for myself and ignoring your deal?”
Lifting my chin, I look him square in the eye. “You could try, my lord. But Ritka’s warriors are already fully equipped with orichalcum weapons and impenetrable armor. Though our number of warriors are small, the efficacy of our weaponry is enough to slaughter your army before they could cross the village line.”
“Lies!” The king spits on the floor. “If that were true, Jeluca would have attempted a coup on the Royal village and attempted to take the throne.”
Tor shifts his weight and crosses his arms. I briefly meet his eyes but can’t read the emotion there.
“Jeluca only wants peace.”
“Let me see the sword.”
The king slams against his chair. My body tenses in response, as if a blow will come at any moment. The last thing I want to give him when he’s on the edge of a violent outburst is my sword.
“It is a gift promised to another.”
His jaw grinds. “Give me. The sword.”
Tor nods. Taking a hard, slow breath, I can’t quite bring myself to grab the scabbard. It feels heavy when I lift it, as if the sword is protesting and trying to weigh itself down. Suddenly, it turns to deadweight and drops to the ground, taking me with it. Nearly falling from the sudden movement, I gasp and let go before I fall to my knees.
Tor’s brow furrows as the scabbard clunks against the floor.
Orichalcum by itself is difficult to forge, but I infuse this sword with Beyri’s magical powder, which gives it even more of a mind of its own. Carefully picking up the scabbard, I move slowly in case it flings from my hands, but the sword is still. I pull it free, and the golden metal casts a glow around the entire room. The king leans back in surprise and Tor…
Tor looks at me with such awe and pride that I can hardly stand it. I made this sword for him, but things are different now that we’re reunited. I don’t know who to trust and in the wrong hands, this sword could be pure destruction.
The king thrusts his hands out and wags his fingers in a gesture for me to place the sword in his palms. I don’t want to hand it over to him. What if the sword misbehaves, and he realizes it contains a bit of magic? He’ll never give it back.
“Hand it to me.”
My brain comprehends the command, but I can’t make my body obey. Without thinking, I dump the sword into Tor’s shocked hands. His eyes grow wide, and he swallows hard as he slips his hand around the hilt and holds it pointed to the sky.
“It’s truly a sword fit for a king.”
Tor hands the weapon to his father. My brain screams for me to stop the exchange…
The doors suddenly burst open as two guards rush inside. “There is an urgent message for you, sire. Your advisors request your presence immediately.”
With the king’s attention diverted, I pull the sword from Tor’s hands and jam it back into the scabbard.
Zalcom heads towards his guards, speaking as he goes. “We will discuss this further tomorrow.”
The doors slam shut behind him and I’m alone with Tor. He turns to me suddenly, taking my shoulders in his big hands and holding me in place. Fear and defiance race through me as I try to spin from his grip, but he’s too strong.
His eyes darken with suspicion as he pulls me closer until I’m forced to look all the way up at him. The sword hums against my back, but I can’t reach the hilt from this angle.
“Who sent you here, Alta? Who sent you here to kill the king?”
