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“That must wait, my king. We come bearing heavy news. The demon Grazrath has taken over Barakrin and has declared war on us. Their goal is to take sentient blood slaves. They began their assault in Grimblton on the night of the new moon. We left before the assault to bring you word, but we left the protection of the people in the hands of Verog ka Roknir. Reinforcements werecalled to drive away the vampires, but there is no telling if they were successful. Troops must be moved to the border immediately.”
I am stunned. Not only at the news, but at the messenger carrying it. My brain can still not wrap around the fact that Dura, after all this time, is still alive. Not only that, but we are at war? With Barakrin, that peaceful country? But I know Dura and she would never lie to me, especially about something this grave.
That is the easier part to deal with, for now. I turn and see more people spilling into the courtyard. Pellia and Verrick are at their head, the Regents of Adrik.
“Warchief Verrick,” I command. “Rally your troops and send them to the Barakrini Border. Warn them to expect hostilities.”
“Yes, My King,” says Verrick, who strides off.
“Regent Santir,” I say to Pellia, “send a message to Orik. The Northern Horde needs to be on the march.”
“Right away, Your Majesty,” she says and also leaves.
I turn back to Dura. “How did you come to find this information?”
She looks up at me. There’s a wariness in her gaze that I am not used to seeing. After a brief hesitation, she replies, “Sir Marvik and I ran across the warband in the forest to the east of Grimblton. They captured him and we were able to ascertain their plans before I was able to free him.”
None of this makes sense. “How were you in the forest to the east of Grimblton? I still do not understand how you and Sir Marvik are alive.”
Dura looks down, her gaze on the ground. Her posture is tense and her fists squeeze tighter even as they are still in the sign of respect. She says, “I have never lied to you, My King, and I will not start now. I cast myself upon your judgment.”
The golden-haired man that is standing next to Adalind, an arm around her, starts forward.
“Dur—”
“I cast myself on your judgment, My King,” Dura repeats louder, talking over the human. “I deserted at the Battle of Fort Attis to save an enemy soldier. I have no explanation worth hearing.”
My heart sinks in my chest. I can’t be hearing what I’m hearing. A deserter . . . that means . . . no, I cannot even think about what that means. “I do not accept that you have no explanation,” I tell Dura, my rough voice angry. “I demand you tell me why you would do such a thing.”
Dura stays looking down, and I want to roar in frustration at my cousin. Why is she putting me in this position?
“I did this because I experienced the Recognition,” she answers me, her voice steady, even as the tension has not left her body. “That and the Mating Instinct both, telling me that the human was my fated mate. I chose to save him rather than kill him and left in the thick of battle. I chose my heart over my duty and I know that cannot be forgiven.”
There’s a murmur in the crowd, both from the humans and the few orcs that remain. The humans don’t understand the gravity of what Dura is saying, but the orcs do.
I whisper, “Please, don’t make me do this, Dura. Tell me another story, any other story.”
She merely shakes her head, still with her eyes on the ground. “I’m sorry, My King,” she replies. “All I have is the truth.”
The weight of my crown feels heavier on my head than it ever has before. I am the king, but the king is bound by laws and honor, or he doesn’t deserve the throne he sits on.
“Guards,” I order hoarsely, “arrest General Dura and take her to the dungeon to await sentencing for her crimes.”
The orcs in the courtyard lurch forward, grabbing Dura by the arms and hauling her to her feet. Dura doesn’t resist and is dragged away.
As I watch my cousin be taken away to the dungeon, my heart is heavy with mourning, knowing what must happen next. What sentence I must give her. There is no other way.
Some days, it is hard to be the king.
Chapter 24
Marvik
“Wait!” I bark out, but no one seems to listen to me. Dura is escorted away, disappearing from my view. I pull away from Adalind, though her grip on my arm is firm. “Wait! You must listen to me!”
The orc king turns to me. He’s as terrifying as I remember from that day at Fort Attis, with his huge stature and curling horns. Double tusks jut out from his lower lips, emphasizing his frown. He looks designed to kill. If I hadn’t seen him being so gentle with Adalind that night in the inn, I would have never believed that she could be safe with him.
“Speak, human.”
