"I'll send word in the morning," Brom says finally. "To the search parties. Tell them about the orc we... found. About where he was heading."
"It's for the best," Talia's voice is thick with tears and guilt. "For all of us. Forla will understand, someday. When she's older and wiser and sees how dangerous?—"
I can't listen anymore. Can't bear to hear them justify betraying the man I love in the name of protecting me. I sink to the floor, hand pressed to my mouth to stifle the sobs trying to tear free.
The people who saved me from slavery are about to sell the man I love into chains.
And there's nothing I can do to stop it.
They mean well—I know they do. In their minds, they're protecting their adopted daughter from a dangerous liaison with a creature who could bring Dark Elf attention down on our quiet farm. They're choosing my safety over his freedom, my life over his.
The same choice I made when I stayed instead of fleeing with him.
But understanding their motives doesn't make the betrayal hurt less. Doesn't make it right. Thoktar trusted us, trusted me, and we've repaid that trust with silver coins and pointed fingers.
Thirty pieces of silver for an orc's soul.
By morning, the Dark Elves will know exactly where to look for him. They'll follow his trail like bloodhounds, patient and inexorable, until they run him to ground. And when they do, they'll drag him back in chains to face whatever horrors await in their slave pits.
I stumble back to my room and collapse on the bed, still clutching his charm. The carved wood cuts into my palm, butthe pain feels distant compared to the agony tearing through my chest.
He's out there somewhere, walking toward his doom, believing he's safe because he left before the net could close. Not knowing that the people he trusted most have already sold him to his enemies.
Not knowing that the woman he loves is too much of a coward to save him.
9
THOKTAR
Imake camp a mile from the farm, unable to leave but knowing I must. Every instinct screams danger—the taste of Dark Elf magic grows stronger on the wind, and my warrior's intuition tells me the net is closing. But I can't abandon Forla completely. Not yet.
Sleep comes fitfully when it comes at all, filled with dreams of her smile, her touch, the promise in her eyes when she whispered my name. I wake before dawn with dread settling in my gut like spoiled meat, the kind of bone-deep certainty that precedes disaster.
Something's wrong. The forest feels too quiet, birds absent from their usual perches. Even the insects have gone silent, as if nature itself holds its breath waiting for violence to break.
Hidden in the tree line, I watch the farmhouse through the morning haze. Normal routines play out like a mummer's show—Forla feeding chickens with mechanical precision, Brom checking fence posts with unusual attention to the road. Everything looks peaceful, but something feels fundamentally wrong.
The air tastes of betrayal, sharp and bitter on my tongue.
When strange riders approach the house in the distance, my worst fears crystallize into terrible certainty. Even from this distance, I recognize the fluid grace of Dark Elf movement, the way they sit their mounts like predators surveying prey.
They've found me.
But how? I covered my tracks, avoided main roads, kept to paths even Nazim said were forgotten. Unless...
No. The thought refuses to take shape, too monstrous to acknowledge. But it claws at the edges of my mind like a caged beast, demanding recognition.
I should run. Should put as much distance between myself and this place as possible, lead the hunters away from Forla and her family. That's what any sane warrior would do.
Instead, I find myself creeping closer, drawn by the need to see her one last time, to make sure she's safe before I disappear forever into the hostile wilderness.
Dark Elf magic hits me from behind before I can react—sleep spells that turn my limbs to lead, binding chains that materialize from shadow, poison darts that burn like liquid fire where they pierce my skin. I fight like a madman, roaring Forla's name, desperate to warn her of the danger.
But there are way too many, and the poison saps my strength with each heartbeat. My vision blurs as consciousness fades, and through the haze I see something that stops my heart cold.
Brom stands beside the lead Dark Elf, coins changing hands in the morning light. Thirty pieces of silver glinting like fallen stars, payment for services rendered.
The betrayal hits harder than any physical blow. These people who sheltered me, who tended my wounds and shared their food, have sold me to my enemies. The very humans Forla loves most in the world have traded my freedom for their safety.
