The thought flickered through her mind, absurd in its simplicity, yet it clung there as she shivered again, helpless against the ropes.
They came to a stop before a door. Massive. Wooden. The grain was dark and rough, banded with iron. Her heart leapt in her chest, tightening painfully as he shifted her weight.
Before he even touched it, the door swung open with a low groan.
Eliza's pulse spiked. Was that magic, too?
He carried her through without pause.
The door swung open without a touch. Magic, she thought, or perhaps something more sinister. Whatever power moved in this place, it responded to him as though they were one and the same. As he carried her across the threshold, one thought crystallized with terrible clarity: this was his domain, and here, she was entirely at his mercy.
Inside, they went.
Chapter
Eleven
The interior was dark. Utterly, suffocatingly dark. She couldn't see a thing.
But he could.
She felt it in the certainty of his movements, the way he navigated through the unseen space without hesitation. Each step was deliberate, sure, as if every corner, every stone were already imprinted in his mind. This place was familiar to him—his domain.
At last, they stopped.
With a soft sigh—so faint she almost thought she'd imagined it—he set her down. Her bound body sank into something yielding beneath her. A bed? A couch? She couldn't tell. Blind in the darkness, ropes biting into her wrists, she was left disoriented, vulnerable.
And alone.
Alone with him. In some hidden chamber, shrouded in shadow.
It was the most unsettling thing she had ever endured.
A treacherous thought whispered through her mind: perhaps it would have been better if she had accepted death when his blade had been at her throat.
No.
She silenced the thought immediately, forcing her breathing steady. She could not afford to think like that. She must survive. Whatever he had proposed—this so-called union, this alliance—it was her only chance. Her only path forward.
And she had agreed.
So she would endure. She would stay alert, observe everything, gather every scrap of knowledge.
The Ketheri were coming. If she lived long enough, she could use that. Perhaps the orcs had other weaknesses, cracks she could pry open when the time came.
As far as she knew, this was the first time a human had been brought so deep into orc territory. That alone made her valuable.
And if she was clever—if she played her role carefully—she would walk away with something more. First-hand knowledge of their inner workings. Knowledge she could turn to her advantage.
She sat very still, forcing herself to be silent, and strained for every sound.
The darkness was thick and absolute, pressing against her eyes until the only thing she could see was the faint blue glow of his eyes. Even that, too, was fading.
A deep sigh escaped him.
She hadn't noticed it until it was gone—the pressure that had been radiating from him, like a constant weight against her skin. The shadows seemed to ease, the tension in the chamber lightening just a fraction.
And yet her dread did not ease. If anything, it sharpened.
