AllFreeNovel
Share Us
When I wake in the morning, Verrick is gone again and I find myself annoyed by that fact. I let it be known that I want him in my bed, and then he rejects and avoids me. Did I read him so wrong? Did I overestimate my own charms?
It seems unlikely. I’ve seen how often his eyes seem to stray to me, even against his own will. I’ve seen his pupils dilate with passion and the way his body leans towards mine when we are alone.
There is something else at work here. Some offense I’ve done that I am not aware of, or something in his past that is keeping him from me. I frown. Maybe he has a past love he is staying true to or a forbidden love that is out of his reach.
I don’t like those thoughts, but they plague me as I get dressed. What do I actually know about the stern Warchief that I want in my bed? That he is magnetic? To be sure. That he is honorable and serious? Of course. But nothing of his past. I know that there is no one in his life romantically, though. That same honor I’ve seen would not allow him to bask in my flirtations while going home to another.
No, if there is something keeping him from being my lover, it is something in his past. It irks me that I do not know what it is and I also know that he will not share it with me. Not with hisfeelings so carefully hidden behind the stone walls of his face.
But these thoughts are not constructive, and I try to banish them as I begin my day. I set up a headquarters at Bronwyn’s house, and spend the time giving out food supplies that I have brought from the capital to those that are most in need in Aquilar.
It’s certainly not enough, especially since we must keep some of the stores for the other towns we will visit. What will we do when winter is truly upon us all? I’ll need to write to Adalind and ask posthaste. I’ll also have to tell the Council of Thirteen that the west and north will have to pay the bulk of the tribute to Orik this time around.That should be fun, I think sarcastically.
The sun is low in the sky, the evening meal passed, when an orc comes up to me as I fill my umpteenth basket with food and supplies.
“Regent Santir,” the orc says, tone grim, “The investigators have returned from the farthest farm and have things they need to relay. Warchief Verrick requests your presence in his tent.”
Histent, eh? With all my things in there, it is stillhistent? I find myself slightly annoyed again. In everything he does, Verrick seems to push me away, even in the choice of his words.
Outwardly, though, I give the orc a smile and put down my basket. “Very well. Have Bronwyn Cooper and her associates been called as well?”
“Yes,” replies the orc. “They are on their way now. If you would follow me.”
I know where the blasted tent is, of course, but I let the orc lead me. He is merely doing his job.
As I enter the tent, it first strikes me that the flimsy partition blanket that Verrick hangs at night is gone and they have moved my things to one side. The bed is in plain view and, for all intents and purposes, it appears as if we are living together in this tent. I soften slightly.He is, at least, following the plan, I muse.
A table with chairs has been placed in the center of the tent.Verrick sits on the far side of the table, the chair to his right empty, while the others are filled with Bronwyn and her two shadows, Quill and Owen. It appears I am the last to arrive.
I paste a smile on my face and sweep into the tent, saying, “Forgive me if I am late, everyone. I was unaware we were meeting.”
I walk to the empty chair, trailing my fingers first along the back of Verrick’s seat flirtatiously. The movement does not go unnoticed, as I see the brows of the other humans go up. Good. Hopefully, their tongues will go a-wagging and the tale will spread that the Regent Pellia is seducing the orc Verrick. If it hasn’t already from my previous antics. Then the tale will go back to the Cabal and they will think I am doing what they commanded. Perhaps they may even contact me again, to give me further commands, and I will learn more about them and their network. Maybe even the identity of the mysterious “Sting” himself.
For his part, Verrick tenses then relaxes under my barely-there touch. I am once again plagued with the thought that he might not want me. However, though I am bothered by the thought that my pursuit may not be welcome, my smile stays the same as I finally take my seat.
“You are fine,” the Warchief responds. “The scouts have just returned and are going to show us what they have found.”
He nods to a small contingent of orcs that are standing at attention in one corner. At the nod, the first orc in the line comes forward, a small bundle in his hands.
“We found more ‘evidence’ of orcs, my chief,” says the orc scout, his face grim. “Broken bits of orc-make blades and even the corner of a war banner that were missed by the human watch during their first investigation. They were hidden a little too well, so they were not found with the others. The point is obviously to point the finger in our direction.”
“Goodness,” I say, looking over the wealth of items the orc has spread across the table. “Where are they finding all this?”
“My guess would be Fort Attis,” replies Verrick, looking overthe items himself. “The piece of warbanner clinches it for me. If we were doing covert operations, we would not be carrying a banner. That’s stupid. But there were many at Fort Attis and the siege there lasted several months. Plenty of time for little pieces like this to fall forgotten to the wayside. Someone has been harvesting pieces from the battlefield, then leaving them here to be found by the humans.”
Bronwyn shakes her head, her riot of red curls going wild with the movement. “Of course. Why didn’t we think of that?”
“Because you were angry and frightened,” I respond, not unkindly. “That makes people easy to manipulate. Likely, you were meant to start rioting and causing problems. It is a testament to your character that you sought to talk first, rather than just move to attacking the orcs.”
“Like attacking orcs would have gone in our favor,” grumbles Quill.
It is hard to like the man when he is so open with his prejudices. I suppose I can only be grateful that it is Bronwyn, rude as she is, that is in charge, not Quill, who so obviously looks at the orcs with such disdain.
I comment, “No, it wouldn’t have. The orcs would have quelled the riots easily, but not without loss of life, which would have stirred up more rebellious sentiment. And the cycle would continue.”
“Who would do this?” asks Bronwyn, frustrated. “Who has anything to gain through a revolt?”
The Cabal is the obvious answer, but I do not say it. I’m supposed to be on their side and sharing their existence with Bronwyn and her associates would look suspicious on my part. So instead I reply in an amiable tone of voice, “Adrik and Orik have their share of enemies that would benefit from destabilizing the country. Barakrin to the east has never been our friend and Terria across the sea has long been envious of our trade and wealth. Either of them could have sent agents to light the fires and frame the orcs.”
