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I have not gone far when the thickness of the foliage has cut me entirely off from being visible from the camp. I go to take another step when the air thickens around me, the sounds of the forest fading, the telltale sign of a silence totem being used.
“You’re late,” comes Sting’s voice, though yet again I cannot see him.
“I came as soon as I got your message,” I say, my voice a little breathless from my exertions in the forest.
“So I saw,” he responds. His voice sounds disembodied and surrounds me. It’s impossible to tell which of the giant trees he could be hiding behind. Who is Sting? Is he following our party, or has he integrated himself into the caravan somehow? That thought is disturbing. I picked all the servants we brought with us personally, which would mean that Sting is most likely a trusted palace staff member.
“Will you still not let me see you?” I say, trying to sound petulant and disappointed instead of eager. He sees me as Yorian’s spoiled mistress, so that’s the part I must play.
“You don’t need to see me, you just need to obey me,” he replies. The words are so arrogant that it takes a great effort on my part not to roll my eyes at him.
“I’m trying to serve,” I say instead, opting for a humble delivery.
“Then why are you failing?” bites back the voice.
This surprises me. “What do you mean? I’ve done everything you asked and brought everyone to the south.”
“Yet you slept apart from the orc last night,” comes the voice. How closely are they watching us? And is it just Sting or are there other traitors in our midst?
“He was tired and in a foul mood from the fire,” I return, my tone logical. “I thought there was no way to seduce him in such a situation anyway and went to get some proper rest. I’m exhausted from having to keep up this front with the orc.”
Not really. But I am tired of Verrick running away from me. So I let that frustration color my tone, making my words soundtrue.
“That’s not what we discussed,” Sting says. “You need to keep him distracted until we can take him in Grimblton. He cannot suspect a trap.”
He already knows about the trap, idiot, I think cheekily, but aloud I say, “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’ll renew my efforts tonight.”
“You’d better,” the shadowy voice threatens, his tone promising cruelty. “If our plan fails because of you, you won’t live to regret it.”
I shrink, hoping I look sufficiently cowed. Really, I can’t help but think what Verrick would do if he caught this coward. Sting fears discovery so much he hides from a defenseless female, yet is arrogant enough to sling around threats. Definitely a coward.
“I know,” I respond. “I’ll be better, I promise. And I won’t get caught.”
“You’d best not. We don’t leave pawns alive to squeal about our plots if they do.”
The air around me ripples, the silence totem being lowered and I instinctively know I’m alone again, the illusive Cabal member having slithered off after issuing his warning.
What am I to do? Verrick wants nothing to do with me and after I have humiliated myself by throwing myself at him, I don’t really want to see him either. But the Cabal is watching us and if we do not play the part of lovers, then they will grow suspicious. Perhaps they will even move when we are not ready for them.
This is all my fault, I know. I tried to mix pleasure with work and it’s only gotten me into this fix. I should have kept everything strictly business between us instead of trying to entice the grumpy orc into my bed on top of navigating the Cabal’s plot.
I walk out of the woods and run straight into the same orc that was sent to retrieve me last time. He looks surprised, but quickly schools his emotions under an expressionless mask.
“Warchief Verrick requests your presence in his tent. There have been some developments.”
Developments? What could that mean? I’m intrigued enough that I almost don’t even think about how awkward it will be to see Verrick this morning after I left him alone the night before. I follow the orc to the tent when I realize something.
“You’ve come to fetch me twice and I still don’t know your name,” I say to the silent orc as we walk through the encampment. “Will you tell me?”
If he is startled by my addressing him, the orc makes no sign of it. “My name is Korovi ka Roknir, Regent Santir,” he replies, still walking with steady movements.
“Ka Roknir?” I ask.
“It’s the Orikesh way of surnames,” he responds. “Thekadenotes that we are of a clan, with the following name the name of the clan. So I am Korovi of clan Roknir, Warchief Verrick’s clan.”
He sounds proud of the fact, and why wouldn’t he be? Verrick is a great Warchief from what I have seen and leads a strong and thriving clan.
Hmm . . . Verrick ka Roknir, I think, putting together his full name. It’s a good name. Strong, like a fortress wall. I sigh. Must I be attracted to everything about the orc, even his name? It would not be so bad if he wanted me too. I thought for the longest time that he did, thought I could see the longing in his eyes, the slight blush in his ears when he was around me, but I think I was mistaken.
