Delia stared at the fortress that had emerged from the living rock, at the banners snapping in the wind, at the distant shapes moving along the walls.
Other orcs. Many of them.
Her heart began to pound.
"They'll see us coming," Ralvar said. "The scouts spotted me half a mile back. By the time we reach the gates, they'll know you're with me."
"Will they—" She swallowed. "Will they try to stop us?"
"No." His voice was certain. "I am their captain. My word is law here, until the warchief says otherwise. No one will bar us."
The gates were opening as they approached.
Delia caught glimpses of green skin, of tusks, of eyes that gleamed in the shadows of the entryway. She felt dozens of eyes on her, tracking her, assessing, judging. Curious or hostile, she couldn't tell.
Ralvar didn't slow. Didn't hesitate. He carried her through the gates of Northwatch like it was the most natural thing in the world, and the orcs parted before him like waves before a ship.
She heard murmurs. Whispers in a language she didn't understand. Someone laughed, not cruelly, but with genuine surprise. Someone else said something that made Ralvar's shoulders tense, though he didn't break stride.
Then they were through the entry corridor and into the stronghold proper, and Delia forgot to be afraid.
Because they weren't staring at her with hatred.
They were staring at her with open, unguarded curiosity. With interest. With—was that appreciation? Some of the eyes that tracked across her body lingered in ways that should have made her uncomfortable but instead made her feel...
Seen.
An older orc stepped into their path, his shoulders as broad as a doorway, his long hair graying at the temples. He looked from Ralvar to Delia and back again, and his craggy face split into a grin that showed impressive tusks.
"Captain," he said in heavily accented but perfectly clear common tongue. "You've been busy."
"Sergeant Korah." Ralvar's voice was steady, but Delia could feel the tension in his arms. "The patrol encountered complications."
"I can see that." Korah's gaze found Delia again, and this time he inclined his head in a gesture of respect. "Welcome to Northwatch, human. You've chosen an interesting escort."
"I—" Her voice came out as a croak. She tried again. "Thank you."
Korah laughed. "She's polite. That's more than I expected." He stepped aside, gesturing toward a larger building at the center of the compound. "The captain's quarters are being prepared. The healers have been summoned. And you—" He fixed Ralvar with a look that managed to be both amused and knowing. "—have some explaining to do."
"Later. She needs rest."
"Of course she does." Korah's grin widened. "Rest. Is that what we're calling it?"
Ralvar made a sound that might have been a growl, and Korah raised his hands in mock surrender.
"Go. See to your... complication. I'll handle the patrol reports."
Ralvar swept past him without another word, carrying Delia deeper into Northwatch.
She caught more glimpses as they moved. Stone buildings with iron-banded doors. A training yard where orcs sparred with weapons larger than she was. A smith hammering at something that glowed orange in the forge light. Everywhere she looked, she saw the evidence of a functioning society. Not the savage chaos she'd been taught to expect, but something organized, purposeful, and alive.
And everywhere she looked, orcs watched her.
Finally, Ralvar ducked through a doorway into a building larger than the rest. Inside, the space opened into a central room dominated by a massive hearth, furs covering the stone floor, weapons mounted on the walls. His quarters, she realized. His home.
He set her down on a chair near the fire and stepped back to look at her.
"You're safe now," he said quietly. "Whatever happens next, whatever you decide, you are safe within these walls. No one will touch you without your permission. No one will harm you. I swear it on my name."
