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“Of course I want revenge,” I reply. “Yorian was my world. But that’s not possible now.”
“It could be,” responds the voice, “if you work with us.”
“Who are you? How can I know I can trust you? You could be an orc, here to test my loyalty to the new regime. If I agree with you, they could send me to the chopping block tomorrow.”
“You’ll just have to ask yourself what you want most, to be safe and serve the people that killed the love of your life or to getvengeance and free Adrik from their rule.”
Whoever the owner of the voice is, they are delusional. Yorian wasnotthe love of my life. I hated him with everything I am. But it’s useful that they think I would be on their side.
Still, I say, “Give me something, a sign that I can trust you, and I will do whatever you want. If it means that I can help Yorian rest in peace, I would walk to the Nether for you, but I need to know who I am working with.”
“We do not use names,” says the voice. “I am called Sting and I am but a messenger. I come from the one that has inherited Yorian’s will. He has a message to you, from Yorian.”
That leaves my blood cold. Yorian left me a message in the event of his death? That should not surprise me. He seeks to control me, even now that he is dead and gone. I keep a neutral expression on my face, but it is difficult to hide how those words make my skin crawl.
Instead, I try to seem eager. “Yorian sent me a message? What is it?”
“It is ‘Blossom, we will be together, even beyond death. Keep your loyalty and I will always be with you.’”
Blossom. That was always what Yorian called me when we were alone. No one knew that. Not even Adalind.
“How did you get such a message? Yorian did not talk to anyone before they killed him.”
“There have been contingencies in place for years in the event of assassination. You were always meant to help us if Yorian died. So, Pellia Santir, will you help us?”
I gulp. Becoming a spy against the Cabal is risky. Potentially lethal. They will not hesitate to kill me if they find I am working against them. But this is our only lead. Duchess Grimble, the only member of the Cabal we have captured, is holding up surprisingly well to interrogation and torture. It may be months before she breaks, if ever. In the meantime, the Cabal will have time to rally their supporters and carry out their plans to kill Adalind and Rognar. Not to mention the trouble in the south that, now that I think on it, I am sure is connected to them.
“Alright,” I hear myself say. “Tell me your plan.”
Chapter 4
Pellia
The next morning, I walk up to Verrick on the training grounds and say, “I need to talk to you.” Belatedly, I realize we are in front of his orcs and add, “Warchief Verrick,” at the end.
He gives me that stare that says he doesn’t know what to make of me, then says, “I am in the middle of training. If it is the Council . . .”
“It is not the Council. But it is important and it cannot wait.” I soften my tone and say, “Please. Come with me on my morning ride. We can talk then and you can still get your exercise. It has been a while since you’ve gone out on your warbeast, has it not?”
His stare does not change, but finally, he nods and says, “Alright. A ride, then.”
Good. We need to get out from these prying eyes.
“Excellent,” I say. “I’ll meet you at the castle gate.”
I give him my usual smile and walk away toward the stables.
I love this place. It is warm and light, and yes, smells lightly of horse dung. But I do not care. I have always been safe here, in the stables. Safe from my father’s temperamental rages and Yorian’s unwelcome favors. Here, the only thing they care about is that you treat your mount right and I do. I go to my old mare,Zephyr, and pet her white nose.
“Hello, girl,” I murmur, my voice sweet, “Did you miss me? Yes? Shall we go for a ride, then?”
Zephyr is already saddled, the stablemaster anticipating my usual ride. Deftly, I swing up, sitting atop my mount like I was born up there. I love being atop my horse. Up here, everything makes sense. The world can fade away, and I can be one with my mount, running with the wind.
I guide Zephyr to the gate and find Verrick already waiting for me. He must have hurried to meet me. Though I know he came merely because of business, I am still warmed by his presence. And such a presence it is, atop his warbeast, looking like something out of an old tale. True, he would have been the villain of an old Adrikian tale, but he would have been one that inspired awe and reverence from the listener. A dangerous threat.
Would that his danger was leashed for me, I think. I saw how the orc king treated my friend Adalind when they were together. A dangerous warrior, a ravening beast, but leashed and tamed for his mistress. I want that for me, at least in a lover. A husband is another matter and not something I want.
“Shall we ride?” I call as I approach.
