I don't remember falling asleep. One moment I was slipping off my boots with trembling fingers, the next the sun was already high, streaming through the tall window and warming the silk sheets tangled around my body. My limbs ached--not from strain, but from release. The constant tension that had held me upright for days, perhaps weeks, had finally snapped. I hadn't dreamed. Not once. My mind had given up, and my body had followed.
I lay there for a long while, staring at the carved ceiling and letting the scent of lavender and old wood wash over me. It felt unreal. Like I was still in some illusion, one of my own casting. But there was no magic humming under my skin. Only silence.
When I finally rose and dressed, my uncle's steward informed me I'd missed the first hour of breakfast. I didn't care. Let them wait. For once in my life, I had allowed myself to collapse.
I entered the dining hall quietly. The long table was half-cleared, but my uncle, Lord Thadeus, remained seated at the head. And across from him sat someone I had not expected.
He was enormous.
Shagrat.
I knew his name from the steward's introduction, but it barely registered. What registered was the way his presence filled the room--like a stormcloud, like a mountain given breath. He was an orc, tall and broad, with pale, ash-colored skin pulled taut over cords of muscle. His face was all sharp lines and hard ridges, framed by white hair pulled back into tight braids. His armor was light--leather shaped perfectly to his form, like it had been grown from him rather than worn.
I swallowed and sat, trying to ignore the flush rising beneath my skin.
I had never reacted to anyone like this. Not a man, not a statue, not even some foolish crush in the palace halls. I'd always been... untouched. In body, yes. And in thought.
My father had seen to that.
The Mad Emperor. That's what they called him in the streets. Even in my own mind, I couldn't separate the words anymore. He was brilliant, powerful, and utterly vile. His appetites were the stuff of legend--noble mistresses, bawdy entertainers, even girls taken from conquered lands. I'd seen too much. The silk bedsheets stained with wine and perfume. The court echoing with laughter too shrill, too practiced. The whispers. The screams.
I swore I would never become like him. Never give in to the flesh like he did. Never let my body rule me. I kept myself cloaked, guarded, untouched. Masturbation was a foreign idea to me, not because I was innocent, but because I loathed the idea of desire. Desire was weakness. Desire was how the Emperor fell.
So why now? Why did this orc's voice--the low, rich timbre of it--make something inside me tighten?
They were speaking when I entered.
"We can't hold the outer fields if the rebels come through the northern pass," Lord Thadeus said.
"They will come," Shagrat replied. His voice was gravel and steel, calm and unhurried. "They know the city's worth more than the keeps."
"I've asked for reinforcements," Thadeus continued. "If we could station twenty orcs along the causeways--"
Shagrat shook his head slowly. "You misunderstand. I don't have twenty more. The ten here are my kin. Blood-bonded. That's why they fight for so little. But to summon others, I would need approval from the Orc Council."
Thadeus grimaced. "And what would they ask in return?"
Shagrat leaned back slightly, his gaze never leaving the map spread before them. "Not just coin. Land. Rights. A seat in your new empire. And that's assuming they even listen to me. They are... wary of human causes."
Land. Of course. I felt a chill. The orcs were not mercenaries in the traditional sense. They were a sovereign people, powerful and proud. Each orc was worth fifty human soldiers in battle. You didn't hire orcs. You negotiated with them like kings.
My uncle looked at me then. "What do you think, Princess?"
I stiffened. I wasn't used to being asked.
"I think," I said slowly, "that if the rebels take the city, there won't be any land left to bargain over."
Shagrat's eyes met mine for the first time. There was something in them I couldn't read--something ancient. I had faced assassins, bandits, traitors. But this felt different.
I looked away.
The conversation drifted into logistics again--supply lines, coin shortages, the reliability of local levies--but my thoughts were elsewhere. I felt... unmoored. As if something had shifted inside me, something I'd locked away for years.
When breakfast ended, Shagrat stood and inclined his head to me. "Princess."
"My lady," Thadeus echoed.
I nodded mutely, then turned away before they could see the heat rising in my cheeks.
As I was leaving a dangerous idea began to form in my mind.
I found Kimberly in the courtyard just past noon. The late spring sun warmed the stones, but the chill in the wind whispered of trouble yet to come. She stood in the training ring, sharpening her greatsword with calm, methodical strokes. Even in repose, she looked like a goddess of war--lethal, beautiful, and unyielding.
I sank onto a bench, legs still weak from the morning's strange awakening and that unsettling encounter with the orc captain. My thoughts spun.
Kimberly glanced at me, eyes sharp. "You slept half the day."
"I needed it."
She gave a dry chuckle. "You looked dead when I checked in."
I hesitated. Then: "They'll come for us, won't they? The rebels."
Her whetstone paused. "Soon. A week, two at most. This place can't hold against a siege."
I looked around the estate--the stone walls, the tall towers, the fluttering Aichelle banners. "Then we should leave."
Kimberly shook her head. "You want to run again? We've run enough."
I met her gaze. "And you want to die in some noble last stand?"
"If it comes to it."
"I have a better plan."
That caught her attention. She set the sword down and stepped closer.
"I want to go to the Orc Council," I said. "Request an alliance."
Her expression didn't change, but her shoulders stiffened.
"In exchange for what?"
"Gold. And land. A place in the Empire once it's mine again."
Kimberly let out a low breath. "You want to offer the orcs a seat in the Empire?"
"If they fight for me."
She folded her arms. "That's bold."
"It's the only thing that might work."
A long silence stretched between us. Finally, Kimberly nodded. "I can't deny it's smart. But orcs aren't easy allies. They're crafty. Proud. Dangerous."
"I know the stories," I said. "Of raids. Villages burned. Women taken."
"They're more than stories," she said. "You were too young, but I remember. My mother told me what the old campaigns were like. Orcs from the northern ranges used to sack towns and vanish into the mountains. Kill the men, the children. Take the women. That's why we still teach our soldiers to fear them."
"But that was over two hundred years ago. And now they're here. Serving as mercenaries."
Kimberly glanced toward the keep. "It is strange. Orcs taking coin instead of blood."
"That's what convinced me. They've changed. Or at least some have. If Shagrat is any example..." I stopped myself, heat rising in my cheeks.
Kimberly raised a brow. "Shagrat?"
"The captain," I muttered.
"I saw him." She smirked. "Didn't expect him to look like that, did you?"
"No," I admitted.
She studied me for a beat. "You've really thought this through?"
"I have. If we try to stand alone, we'll die. But if I can convince the Orc Council... if I can speak to them directly--"
"They'll want more than coin," Kimberly interrupted. "And land isn't a light offer."
"I know. But I'll give it. If that's what it takes."
Kimberly finally nodded. "Then I'll support you. But be careful, Sophia. Orcs don't play by our rules. And if they see weakness, they'll use it."
I looked out toward the distant hills. "Then I'll make sure they don't."
I found him by the front gates, just beyond the shadow of the outer walls.
Shagrat stood in a half-circle with four other orcs, speaking in their language--low, guttural tones that rumbled like distant thunder. I could not make out a word, but the cadence was precise, almost ceremonial. They spoke with discipline, nodding and gesturing with economy. They did not glance my way, and I did not interrupt. Instead, I stood a few paces off, clasping my hands behind my back, willing myself to patience.
When the conversation ended, two orcs marched off down the outer path and the others faded into the courtyard. Shagrat finally turned to me. His pale eyes caught the light and held mine without hesitation.
"Princess," he said.
"Captain," I replied. "May I have a moment of your time? In private."
He studied me. Then he nodded once, his expression unreadable. "Follow me."
We walked in silence toward one of the side buildings. I recognized it from a quick tour the day before--a storehouse for weapons and spare armor. When Shagrat opened the door, the scent of oiled steel and dust hit me. Racks of spears and swords lined the stone walls. It was not built for conversation. It was a place of war.
Inside, there was barely enough space to stand comfortably apart. I moved past him and stopped near a crate of arrows, forcing myself to breathe evenly. The door shut behind us with a soft thud, and suddenly I was aware of everything. Of how close he was. Of how the room held the heat of the day. Of his scent--clean leather and something sweet and alien that I could not name. A mixture of polished steel, sweat, and something deeper, older. Not unpleasant. Not at all.
My body reacted before my mind could scold it. My skin prickled, my breath caught, and something low in my belly twisted without warning. I had read of sensations like this in books. I had ignored them. I had trained myself to feel nothing. I was not my father.
I clenched my jaw and shut the door on that thought. I would not unravel. Not here. Not now.
