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I turn with him, refusing to let him out of my sight. "Answer the question, ogre. What do you want with me?"
He stops in front of me, so close I can feel the heat of him, smell the musk of his skin beneath the leather and metal. He reaches out, his fingers brushing the side of my neck, and I go still, my breath catching in my throat.
"I want many things from you, Lily Thornwood," he murmurs, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. "Your strength. Your skill. Your knowledge of human tactics and strategies. But most of all..."
He leans in, his lips brushing my ear, and I shudder despite myself. "I want your fire," he whispers. "That defiant, indomitable spirit that blazes within you. I want to see it roused to an inferno...and then I want to tame it, to bend and shape it to my will."
I jerk back, my heart pounding, revulsion and something far more treacherous warring within me. "I am not some wild creature to be broken to your hand," I snarl, my hands balling into fists despite the manacles. "And I will never betray my people, no matter what you do to me."
He chuckles, a deep, rich sound that vibrates through me like a caress. "Oh, sweet blade," he murmurs, his eyes glinting with dark amusement. "Who said anything about betrayal? I don't want to break you. I want to reshape you, to forge you anew in the fires of my will."
He steps back, gesturing to the guards. "Take her to the training yard," he commands. "Let her see how the Bloodclaw Clan tempers its steel."
I'm seized and marched out, my mind whirling with Grok's words. Reshape me? Forge me anew? What does he mean? What is he planning?
I don't have long to ponder it. The guards drag me through a maze of corridors, emerging at last into a wide, open courtyard. The training yard, I realize, taking in the racks of weapons, the sparring rings, the warriors drilling and fighting in every corner.
And the humans. Ragged, hollow-eyed figures huddled in the shadows, watching the ogres train with a mix of fear and bitter envy. My heart clenches as I recognize the dull despair in their gazes, the slump of their shoulders. How long have they been here, I wonder? How long until they break entirely?
"Lily? Lily Thornwood, is that you?"
A familiar voice cuts through my bleak thoughts and I turn, scarcely able to believe my eyes. "Thane?"
My brother strides towards me, his once-proud golden armor replaced with dirty rough spun cotton, his face dirty above a matted beard. But it's him, impossible as it seems. My fierce, brilliant brother, always so strong, so indomitable...brought low by ogre chains.
"Gods, Lily, what are you doing here?" he demands, gripping my arms with desperate strength. "How did they get you?"
"Grok," I say grimly. "In the battle. But never mind that now. What happened to you? I thought you were fighting on the western front. How long have you been a prisoner?"
He shakes his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. "Weeks? Months? I hardly know anymore. Time loses meaning in this place."
I swallow hard, fighting back tears. Oh, my brave, stubborn brother. What have they done to you?
But I can't fall apart, not now. I need to be strong for both of us. "We'll get out of here, Thane," I promise fiercely. "Somehow, we'll find a way to escape, to get back to Thornhall."
He nods fiercely, a wild look in his eyes. "Whatever you do, Lily," he mutters, "don't be yourself in here. The last thing you want to be is the Red Blade."
Before I can ask him what he means, a shout rings out across the yard. "You there, humans! Back to work!"
Thane scowls, his grip on my arms tightening. "Do as they say," he urges, his voice low and urgent. "Don't fight them, not openly, and be careful. The warlord...he's not like the others."
And then he's gone, melting back into the shadows with the other humans, leaving me alone and reeling with a hundred new questions.
The guards seize me again, dragging me to the center of the yard. "The warlord says you're to train," one of them growls, shoving a blunted practice sword into my bound hands. "Let's see what you're made of, human."
I look down at the sword, then up at the ring of leering ogre faces surrounding me. Waiting to see me humiliated, no doubt. Waiting for me to break.
But I am the Red Blade. I do not break.
Slowly, deliberately, I raise my bound hands and assume a ready stance, the sword gripped tight. "All right then," I say softly, a cold, deadly calm settling over me. "Let's dance, you bastards."
And I let the beast inside me off its chain.
What follows is a blur of violence and pain, of whirling steel and spraying blood. They come at me one after another, towering mountains of muscle and rage, seeking to overwhelm me with sheer size and strength.
But I am quicker, more agile, dancing between their blows and darting inside their guard to land stinging cuts and bruising strikes. I pour all my fear and fury into every swing, every slash, the world narrowing to the reach and arc of my blade.
I lose myself in the familiar rhythms of combat, the song of steel in my blood, the savage joy of pitting skill against skill. For a timeless, blazing moment, I am free, unchained, glorying in my mastery of the sword and my body.
