The clearing quieted as the night progressed. Bonfires crackled low, and most of the soldiers retired to sleep. Only four sentinels remained, patrolling the perimeter in pairs. They moved with the confidence of those who didn’t expect an attack, a fatal mistake in Marukoksha.
"I want one alive," I whispered to Drak, who was at my side.
He nodded, moving to his position. He was the best choice for this: fast, lethal, and discreet. The rest of the group remained at a distance, ready to intervene if anything went wrong.
We watched the sentinels for another half hour, mapping their movement patterns. The pair on the eastern side paused, and one of the Fae informed the other that he needed to relieve himself. It was the perfect moment.
When he stepped away, Drak became a shadow in the darkness, moving through the grass with surprising lightness for his size. Within seconds, he reached the sentinel. One hand clamped over the orc’s mouth, while the curved blade of his knife pressed against his throat.
He dragged the male into the shadows, where Kreshak was waiting with a piece of cloth in his hands.
We moved away from the clearing, carrying the High Fae with us. Once we were far enough from the convoy, I gave aquick signal, and they bound him efficiently. A cloth was shoved between his teeth before he could scream and alert the others.
His golden eyes widened as he realized who had taken him.
I knelt before him, bringing myself to eye level even as he stood. I gripped his chin firmly, enough to hurt, forcing him to meet my gaze.
"If you scream, you die," I said in Common. "If you lie, you die more slowly."
He swallowed hard, nodding rapidly.
"What are two hundred soldiers from the Autumn Court doing crossing Marukoksha?" I asked, pulling the cloth from his mouth so he could answer.
"W-we..." he hesitated, his eyes darting toward the forest as if he expected help to appear. I tightened my grip on his chin. "We’re just passing through."
I landed a punch squarely on his nose, feeling the snap of cartilage and hearing his whimper of pain.
"I told you not to lie," I growled, squeezing the bridge of his nose between my fingers so the pain would linger, reminding him of what was at stake. "Next time, I'll break your leg. Answer me."
He finally seemed to understand that I wasn't joking; the moment I pressed my foot against his right leg, he began to stammer an answer.
"W-we are taking a prisoner to Ceilte. S-someone important."
"Who?" I demanded.
"I-I don't know!" He shook his head violently, his gaze consumed by despair. "T-they didn't tell us! W-we were only given orders to escort them and keep them alive."
"Is it a High Fae?"
He nodded rapidly.
"And why is the Autumn Court taking a prisoner to Ceilte? What happened to your alliance?"
The male gasped, struggling against his panic. "Lord Alasdair broke an agreement. Something about protecting an orc..." He glared at us as if he were accusing us.
I snorted, unable to believe what I was hearing. Alasdair protecting an orc? The odds of that happening were about as likely as an orc being born blue.
"Alasdair would never do that," I retorted. "High Fae hate orcs. Why would the Lord of Ceilte protect one?"
"It’s what they say," the Grìosach soldier insisted, his voice faltering. "The prisoner is a bargaining chip, something the Lord won't be able to refuse."
My mind raced. Alasdair—the most prejudiced Fae in all of Lyraen—risking an alliance to protect an orc? Not likely. The only explanation was that this orc was worth more to him than any alliance.
"And if the Lord refuses?" I questioned, though I already knew the answer.
"Then we have permission to attack."
I exchanged a quick look with Kreshak, then with Drak. Everyone reached the same conclusion: if the Autumn Court had permission to strike Ceilte, then this so-called “escort” was just the spark for something far bigger.
