"I'm tired," he said. It wasn't entirely a lie. "We've traveled far."
"We traveled far yesterday too. And the night before." He heard her shift against the stone, heard the small hitch in her breath as her ankle protested the movement. "Something's different."
She was too perceptive. He'd noticed it before—the way she read the spaces between words, the way she watched faces like she was solving puzzles. In the human world, that skill had probably helped her navigate cruelty and anticipate danger.
Now it was aimed at him, and he had nowhere to hide.
"Ralvar." Her voice was closer. When he finally turned, she'd dragged herself across the cave floor, her injured ankle trailing behind her, until she was near enough to touch. "Please."
The firelight caught her face, painting her in shades of gold and shadow. Her hair was tangled from travel, the tunic shestill wore torn and dirty, her cheeks pale from exhaustion. And still—still—she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
"I can't—" He stopped. Started again. "Tomorrow, you'll meet my warriors. They'll look at you and see a human. They'll wonder what their captain was thinking, bringing one of the people who—"
The words caught in his throat like bone splinters.
Her brow furrowed. "One of the people who what?"
She deserved to know what she was walking into, what wounds her presence might reopen. But the story lived in a locked place inside him, a room he'd sealed shut six years ago and never opened since.
"It doesn't matter."
"It clearly does." She reached out, her hand finding his knee. The touch was light, but it burned through him like a brand. "I can feel you pulling away. And I need to know—" Her voice wavered. "I need to know if it's me. If bringing me there is something you're regretting."
"No." The word came out too fast, too sharp. He forced himself to soften it. "That is the one thing I do not regret."
"Then what?"
The fire crackled. Shadows danced across the stone. Outside, the wind had picked up, crying through the trees with a sound like distant voices.
Ralvar looked at her and felt the walls inside him begin to crack.
"Six years ago," he said slowly, "a human envoy came to the border. He said he represented a lord who wanted peace. Trade agreements. An end to the raids that were bleeding both sides dry."
Her hand stayed on his knee, anchoring him to the present even as the past rose up to swallow him.
"I believed him." The admission tasted like ash. "The others were skeptical. Humans had lied before, had used talk of peace to buy time for attacks. But he seemed genuine. Earnest. I vouched for him."
He remembered the envoy's face. Young, for a human. Nervous in that way humans often were around orcs, but pushing through it with what had seemed like courage. Ralvar had respected that. Had thought it meant something.
Fool.
"We arranged a meeting. A neutral place, three miles south of the Northwatch. Four of my warriors came with me. My best. My..." The word stuck. "My friends."
Delia gripped his knee tighter.
"The envoy never arrived. But the arrows did." His voice had gone flat. Dead. It was the only way he could tell this story. "From the trees. Dozens of them. We fought, but they'd planned it well. Knew exactly where we'd stand, exactly how to pin us."
He could still hear it. Keth's roar of rage as the first shaft took him in the shoulder. Marrus trying to shield Vella with his own body, arrows striking them both. Thren, the youngest, dying with hiskrenna’sname on his lips.
"They all died."
The silence stretched between them, broken only by the fire's pop and hiss.
"That wasn't your fault,” Delia said quietly.
"I vouched for him." The words came out harsh. Grating. "The other captains wanted to refuse the meeting. I was the one who argued. Who said we should give him a chance. Four warriors are dead because I was arrogant enough to think I could see truth in a human face."
He forced himself to look at her then. To watch her reaction, to see whatever judgment or disgust would rise in her eyes.
