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Verrick
She trusts me.The thought should not be arousing, and yet it is. Pellia rides just behind me, in a protected spot in our riding formation, but though I cannot see her, all my thoughts are of her.
The thought of her being taken by some mysterious party infuriates me. She is right. I would hunt her down and bring her back. But because she is my co-regent and a friend to my queen or something else? I cannot say for certain.
Deep within me I can feel the Mating Instinct stir and I bid it back to sleep through my will alone. Pellia is not for me. She can’t be. I swore an oath never to be taken in by another human again and I will hold to that oath. It is the only thing saving me from certain disaster.
My head turns, almost involuntarily, and my eyes sidle back to Pellia on her horse. She looks tired, with dark circles under her eyes. But something about her bearing makes her still appealing. Pellia has only ever been kind to me, light and flirtatious. Is it unfair to her to see Lucy in her image? Perhaps.
But Lucy was beautiful and bubbly when she wanted something. Bewitching enough that I was blind to her flaws. She used me and my clan until she ultimately robbed us. I haven’t yet seen flaws in Pellia, but it does not mean they are not there.
We ride for another few hours without incident until wereach the first affected southern town, Aquilar. The smell of burnt fields greets us as we approach. The surrounding farms have all been affected. Charred black earth surrounds us, as far as the eye can see. The town is quiet, no one on the streets. It’s like the inhabitants are hiding from us as we ride up.
Bronwyn rides up beside me and says, “As you can see, the situation is as dire as we said.”
Pellia comes forward as well, nodding, “I believed you when you said that the food stores are being attacked, but it is sobering to see it in person. Is there anywhere that hasn’t been affected?
The peasant woman shakes her head. “Not in Aquilar. The arsonists attacked for a week, every night a new field being burned, a new farmhouse succumbing to the flame. At first, we thought it was some madman targeting our town, but then the next week, more villages were attacked. Despite that, this town has had it the worst.”
“Then, there must be something special about Aquilar,” reasons Pellia. “Why were they attacked first and the longest? We need to investigate.”
“I will send my orcs to the fields, to see if there is anything that was missed by the magistrate’s men,” I say. “We should meet with the magistrate while we are here.”
“That will be difficult,” Bronwyn returns grimly. “He was killed in the last fire while trying to douse the flames in his own fields.”
Pellia looks alarmed. “You did not say that there have been deaths because of the fires.”
“There have been a few,” replies the peasant leader. “Mostly from those fighting the flames. Death does not seem to be their initial goal, as the homes that have been targeted haven’t had their exits tampered with, but death has come nonetheless.”
“Then who will we speak to?”
“That’ll be me,” Bronwyn says. “My father was the magistrate and, without a new one being appointed, people have turned to me in the meantime.”
The woman is an acting magistrate? No wonder thecommon folk at the palace gates had looked to her as leader. Still, the fact that she hadn’t shared this previously is suspicious to me.
“Why is this the first we are hearing of this?” I demand, my eyes narrowing at the human woman.
“When would I have told you? When you were intimidating my people at the gate or when you were interrogating me in the Council Chamber? You never asked. And what did it matter? You were going to come investigate without me trying to throw around non-existent titles and demands!”
“Still,” Pellia says, gently, her tone obviously trying to calm the argument brewing between Bronwyn and me, “You should have told us. I understand you are doing your best to protect your people, and probably thought that if you told us you had no official authority that we might not listen to you, but secrets in the future will not serve us.”
“Noted, Regent,” Bronwyn says with narrowed eyes.
The beautiful regent beside me tilts her head and continues, “Did you not think of the fact that we could actually appoint you as the actual magistrate? Make your authority real?”
Bronwyn looks mulish. “I considered it, but I am a young, unmarried woman. Not the type that royals put in charge.”
“Not the type that royals put in chargein the past,” corrects Pellia. “But that was when Adrik was ruled by a human king. Our new orc king is less interested in a person’s gender than he is in whether someone can do their job. Is that not so, Warchief Verrick?”
I nod, still glaring at Bronwyn. Something about her stories and excuses I still don’t trust. It is difficult to say, however, if it is because her story truly matches up or if it is because she is a human woman. The specter of Lucy hangs over my head again.
“Take us to where we might talk,” Pellia says. “Then we can make plans as to what would be best for the south and strategize how we can catch the arsonists.”
Bronwyn’s lips twist slightly, but nods, “Of course. This way, Regents.”
???
Much later, Pellia and I are in my tent once again. Though we were in town much of the day, there was no place for us to sleep. Buildings are a scarce commodity and the inn is full of those whose homes have gone down in the fires. It was a simple thing to have our tents set up in one of the burned fields, close to Bronwyn’s home, though the acrid smell of the charred harvest lingers unpleasantly in the air.
