His scent—sweat, earth, and blood—reached me before he did, strange yet somehow familiar, like my body already knew what my mind refused to accept. The sensation, too insistent to be ignored, brought an urgent need to touch him, to confirm with my own hands that he was alright. The feeling frightened me, because it shouldn't exist, not between us. He was an orc, and I was a High Fae.
I pushed the thought to the back of my mind and kept moving forward. When his lips curved into a slight smile, almost imperceptible, heat rose quickly to my face, leaving me blushing like a virgin. From the way Malek’s smile widened, revealing his adorable dimples, it was clear he noticed.
Kalisha, beside me, made a strange sound in her throat, which prompted me to look away from Malek. Her gaze was fixed further ahead, where Drak was talking to Sahak, the beautiful orc who ran the kitchens.
A pang of compassion shot through me, but it was short-lived. The massive orc in front of me quickly captured my attention. Malek was impossible to ignore. Taller and broader than any other I had ever seen, he dominated the space effortlessly. The scars on his skin told ancient stories, echoes of battles long past. His muscles were evident even beneath his leather armor, and the axe strapped to his back looked ready to be wielded at any moment.
He examined every feature of my face. His dark hair, messy and stuck to his forehead with sweat, framed features that a month ago I wouldn't have found beautiful. Now, his face made my heart want to leap out of my body to meet his.
"You’re here," he said, his voice coming out raspy with exhaustion.
"I was training," I replied, tilting my chin up in a futile attempt to maintain my composure.
"Good. You need to stay strong."
His attention weighted on me, making my stomach contract. I shifted my focus to his leather armor, following the trickles of red blood that still seeped down his arms.
"What happened?" I asked.
Malek took a moment to answer, as if evaluating how much he should say.
"Fae from the Autumn Court. We intercepted a convoy."
My eyes widened at the same time a silent fissure opened inside of me.
"They were marching toward Ceilte," he continued, staring at me with intensity. "With a cage."
"A cage?" I repeated, unable to hide my confusion.
Malek nodded. "We couldn't open it," he said, almost to himself. "But we brought it with us."
A cage protected by Fae magic, resistant even to his strength, could only hold something of extreme value.
"What’s inside?" I whispered.
Malek turned, casting a glance at the crowd of orcs that was drawing near, proud and expectant. When he spoke again, there was something resolute in his tone.
"I don't know." He faced me again. "But we’re going to find out."
With that, he walked away, heading to his hut, leaving me in the middle of the excited crowd.
What was happening in Ceilte for the Autumn Court to march there? And worse still, what, or who, was trapped in that cage?
The questions piled up in my mind, along with a growing concern for my family and my people. I needed more information, but Malek had already disappeared into the hut, and the other orcs had dispersed—all except for one.
I walked hurriedly toward Drak, who was still talking to Sahak.
"Drak!" I called out, my voice louder than I intended.
Both turned to look at me—the warrior without losing the sly smile that seemed tattooed on his face, and Sahak with open indifference.
"Akra’yn," he greeted me, the reverence in his tone more mocking than respectful. "It seems you’ve been training even without your favorite teacher. Very good!"
"I want to see the cage," I said, not beating around the bush.
His smile flickered before disappearing completely. "It’s not a toy, akra’yn. It’s dangerous."
"Malek said I could," I lied, a sharp pang of guilt twisting in my chest.
