I take the parchment, my pulse quickening despite my efforts to remain composed. The human scurries away before I can question him, leaving me staring at the plain paper that feels heavier than it should.
Meet me in the woods. Thirty paces south from the treeline, ten paces north from there.
No signature. No explanation. Just coordinates that could lead anywhere—or to anyone.
"What is it?" Tarnuk's voice carries a note of suspicion that I recognize from our patrol days.
"Nothing important." I fold the note carefully and tuck it into my belt, already calculating distances and angles in my mind. "Just clan business."
Tarnuk's eyes narrow, but he doesn't press. Twenty years of friendship has taught him when to push and when to let things lie. This is clearly one of the latter.
"Don't do anything stupid," he says finally, rising from the crate with a grunt. "We've got enough complications without you adding to them."
I nod absently, my attention already turning toward the dark line of trees that borders the festival grounds. Thirty paces south, ten north. Simple enough directions, but they could be leading me into anything—ambush, trap, or something far more dangerous.
But I don't pride myself on hiding from risk and danger.
The treeline swallows me whole as I count off paces through undergrowth that catches at my boots. Thirty south feels like nothing with my stride, but I catch myself mid-step, remembering the source of these directions. Human paces. I adjust my count, taking shorter steps that feel almost comical for someone my size.
Ten paces north from there brings me to the edge of something I nearly miss—a narrow creek that cuts through the forest like a silver thread in the moonlight. The water murmurs over smooth stones, barely wider than my outstretched arms, and I'm about to turn back when I spot her.
Thalia sits on a moss-covered boulder at the water's edge, her knees drawn up to her chest. Her dark hair spills over her shoulders like a curtain, and she doesn't look up when my boots crunch on the fallen leaves.
"Well," I say, settling against a nearby tree trunk with deliberate casualness, "I can see why you chose this spot. Though next time you might want to account for the difference between human paces and orc ones. I nearly walked straight past you."
Her head lifts slightly, revealing the pale curve of her cheek in the filtered moonlight. "I wasn't sure you'd come."
"Neither was I." The honesty slips out before I can stop it. "But here we are."
She shifts on the rock, her bare feet dangling just above the water's surface. Silence fills the moment, filled with the soft babble of the creek and the distant sounds of the festival grounds. When she finally speaks, her voice is steady but hollow.
"I'm leaving tonight."
My gut twists, and I'm taken completely off guard, though I keep my expression neutral. "Where will you go?"
"Does it matter?" She traces patterns on the rock with her fingertip, not meeting my eyes. "There's no future here. Not for someone like me."
I want to argue, to tell her she's wrong, but the words stick in my throat. What future could there be? I'm bound to Rytha, locked into an alliance that will cement both our clans' power. Thalia is a servant, a human, marked by a goddess most orcs barely remember and only celebrate out of tradition.
"I wish it were different," I say finally, the admission scraping against my pride like rusty metal.
She nods, still not looking at me. "I know."
When she stands, brushing dirt from her simple dress, something in my chest clenches tight. She moves with quietpurpose toward the path that leads deeper into the woods, away from the festival, away from everything that's trapped us both.
My hand shoots out before conscious thought takes hold, catching her wrist as she passes. Her skin is warm against my palm, delicate bones shifting beneath my grip.
"Stay."
The word sits between us like an offer to the gods just waiting to be acknowledged. She freezes, her pulse fluttering against my thumb like a caged bird.
"I know it doesn't make sense," I continue, my voice rougher than I intended. "But don't go."
Stay. With me.
15
THALIA
