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“How does burning the towns in the south accomplish that? It is a problem, to be sure, but not one that I would attend to myself. I have already sent the orc scouts to investigate and find the perpetrators. I was never planning on going with them.”
“I know. That is why they contacted me. I am supposed to pull you in and get you directly involved. We need to have it appear as if I am doing that very thing. If they think weare following their plan, then what we really can do is set our own trap for them. When you are in the south and reach the township of Grimblton, they plan for me to drug you so that they can take you. But what if we only pretended to do so? Then when the Cabal comes to take you as their hostage, we could capture them instead. We could get them all in one fell swoop. At the very least we would get some of their highest lieutenants.”
Verrick nods. “A sound strategy, but should we not contact Urim, the King’s Shield, and your Dame Zera? The king left them in charge of the investigation into the Cabal.”
“But we have no time,” I argue. “And they obviously have spies in the palace. They could get to me in my own chamber, for all the gods’ sakes.”
“A detail I have not forgotten and do not like,” my companion growls.
“Precisely. Finding out that we have sent for help would be child’s play to them. They knew details about our schedules and Council meetings that they should not. We have no way of knowing how far their information network extends. If we were to send a falcon with a message now, there is a high probability they would discover it and its contents. Then they would know that I am not actually on their side. As of now, they consider me an easily used pawn in their schemes, Yorian’s grief-stricken mistress. I have to appear to be following their plan exactly for us to be able to lay a trap.”
“But you are not grief-stricken?”
I scoff. “Gods, no. Like I said, I wished for Yorian to die longer than anyone. Destroying his Cabal will be my ultimate revenge against him. To erase him and his influence completely from Adrik.”
“Then, I suppose, for now, we can follow your plan. The more associates of the Cabal we capture, the easier it will be to dismantle them.”
“Exactly. There is one other thing, though,” I venture, feeling both excited and nervous at the thought of telling him.
“What is it?” he asks.
“The part of the plan they want me for . . . specifically what they’ve ordered me to do in order to lure you south. They want me to seduce you so that your guard will be down when I give you the drug in Grimblton.”
“What?” he says, looking for all the world like a startled deer.
“Yes, in order for the plan to work, we are going to have to pretend to be lovers.”
Chapter 5
Agony
Cheerful sunlight pours into the ritual chamber of the tower, at odds with the dark scene in front of me, when the messenger falcon arrives, a missive from Sting attached to its talons. It is done. We have pulled Pellia into the plot. Sting reports she seemed eager. She wants revenge against the orcs as much as we do, though for different reasons. She will be easily controlled, a useful tool in our plan.
I didn’t want to bring her into our scheme, but we have no other way of luring the orc regent to the south without her words in his ear. Her body in his bed, addling his thoughts until it is too late. I wince at that thought, Pellia in bed with an orc. I hate that part of the plan, but Sting is right. We are at war and sacrifices need to be made in order to ensure our victory. For though the ritual we plan can be done with any orc, I believe the more powerful the sacrifice we prepare, the more power we will receive. So the orc regent is key and Pellia is imperative to capturing him. Luckily, the lady didn’t ask too many questions, being as willing to please as Yorian always bragged she was.
My hands curl into the armrest of my chair, crushing the missive as I do so. Anger curls in my belly. She should have been mine! Pellia was alwaysmeantto be mine. If she had been then maybe I wouldn’t have developed the . . . appetites that I have. The depravities. I know the things I need to feel whole are not . . . savory. No matter. She’ll be made to understand, as I was, thenecessity of the work done by the Cabal. When she is mine, after this is all over, I’ll enjoy educating her and purifying her body of the stench of the orc before I take her.
A muted scream echoes through the ritual chamber, interrupting my thoughts. In front of me, the scene pulls me back into the present. Ache and Anguish, my favorite torturers, stand in front of the young man tied to the torture cross. I’ve already forgotten his name and where he’s from. Was he the blacksmith’s apprentice or the farmhand? It doesn’t really matter. Who or what he was is no longer of consequence, only the attributes that the ritual we’ve begun has demanded. He’s handsome, young, and healthy. Or at least he was before we started in on him. Now he’s nothing but the first sacrifice. A model innocent. They’ve carved him up as the man wails behind his gag, his once-perfect skin in ribbons, blood flowing down to be captured in a basin under his feet, collecting the liquid for the first stage of the ritual we are attempting. This is just the first of the many innocents we will need to torture. The runes they carve into his flesh are an offering to Grazrath, Lord of Pain, dedicating the young man’s soul to his service. It is his blessing we are seeking through our work.
With that blessing, we will soon have the strength we need to expel the orcs from Adrik and punish the queen who gave our country to the beasts.
I merely need to bide my time until the orc regent and his ilk are here. Once Pellia brings him to me, then the true fun can begin.
Chapter 6
Verrick
"You and I? Lovers?” I ask, both a deep longing and terror rising in me at the thought. Images assail me, unbidden, yet unstoppable. Flawless brown skin under my fingertips, my thrum reverberating in the air. A sigh, or maybe a moan as she takes me, the perfect clasp of her tight heat.
“We do not have to be lovers in truth,” she is saying, breaking into my rebellious thoughts as if she had not just lit my world on fire. “But we should pretend that you are falling for my charms. Which, of course, you aren’t.” That last phrase she softens with a wink, as if she doesn’t believe her own words. I am not sure I do either.
She looks beautiful, out here in the sunshine, plotting. The light shines off of her braids and gleams on her smooth, dark skin. Pellia sits astride on her aging mount and looks for all the world like a goddess about to lead her troops into battle. Or tempt an orc to sin.
But she is a goddess I cannot worship. Even as I long to.
Lucy, I remind myself,think of Lucy.
She continues, oblivious to my thoughts, “We’ll have to tell everyone that I convinced you that we should take a tour of the south, to survey the damage. On the way there, we can make it appear as if we are sharing a tent and you can act asif I am leading you along by the nose. But then when we get to Grimblton and they come to collect your drugged self, we will spring our surprise attack on them.”
