Krujha rapped on his doorframe with his knuckles, that same grin on his features as always. “No point in waiting around in a place like this. Want to go for a walk? Gorza probably won’t summon us today.”
Alwyn tightened his grip on the now-empty rucksack. Part of him did want to walk around with Krujha, but part of him recoiled at the thought. If Galred were here, and spotted himwalking with Krujha—not out of necessity, but in camaraderie—he didn’t know why the thought was as humiliating as it felt.
“No, thank you,” he replied stiffly, unable to face Krujha as he said it. “I—I think I’d rather take the afternoon to rest.”
When he turned back to Krujha, the orc’s smile had fallen away. His features were entirely neutral now, which somehow felt more disappointing.
“Of course,” Krujha said, then shrugged. “Maybe after supper, then.”
“Maybe,” Alwyn echoed faintly, but the orc was already walking away.
Alwyn kept to himself as much as he could, and he did not see Krujha again until they were both called to speak with Gorza the next morning. When Alwyn fell into step beside him, as they headed out of the barracks and out toward the meeting point, Krujha glanced sidelong at him for a moment. He held the gaze, and after a few steps, the orc offered him a small, reconciliatory smile.
Alwyn wanted to smile back, but instead, he only gave as imperceptible a nod as he could manage, then looked forward.
He hated being here. All the posturing and politicking that surrounded royalty wore down on him rapidly—he’d never had much need for it and wasn’t keen on starting now. The sooner they could leave, the better.
Gorza was waiting for them in an unassuming tent on the other side of the courtyard, sitting at a wooden table with a parchment laid out in front of her. When they entered, she smiled at them, rolling the parchment up and tucking it away.
“I’m glad to see you made it back alive,” she said in orcish, standing to her feet. She and Krujha shook hands, then they all took a seat around the table. “I heard things got touchy out there.”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Krujha said, wincing. “Poor Torlag drew the short straw.”
“He brought honor to his memory,” Gorza said, and Krujha nodded. They were both silent for a moment, Alwyn watching them uncertainly, then she seemed to move on brusquely. “Well, there’s little rest to be had here, I’m afraid. The other elf, Galred, has been in contact with me. He’s in the city now, but will be returning to Aefraya soon on other orders, so it just leaves the two of you to see this through to the end. But I think it’s better to have a smaller force, after seeing how things went last time.”
Alwyn’s heart leapt up into his throat. Galred wouldn’t be joining them—would it really be just him and Krujha against an entire rebel camp?
Gorza seemed to sense his uncertainty—or perhaps the same sentiment was more obvious on Krujha’s face—because she added quickly, “But there have been developments since the last time we checked in, Krujha. I’ve made contact with a spy under deep cover in Zesh’s camp, who’s been able to provide an exact location for us, and who will meet you there for support.”
“That’s a relief to hear,” Krujha sighed. “We’ll finally have an actual destination.”
“I’ve got the details for you in a cipher, but destroy it before getting to the camp,” Gorza continued, pushing a different, folded piece of parchment across the table. Krujha pocketed it without a word. “The plan is roughly the same. The two of you will travel to Zesh’s camp, Krujha to join up, and Alwyn with the cover story that he wishes for the unification to fail and will betray Aefraya to do it.”
Alwyn frowned. “Will that be believable?”
Gorza smirked at him. “They might not like it, but I’m sure good old-fashioned xenophobia will be completely believable to anyone in that rebel camp.”
That was a fair point, but there was something that concerned him even more.
“Gorza,” he said, as she turned to address Krujha again. She glanced back over at him, her eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Why is Galred leaving?”
She chuckled. “I wish I could tell you. All he told me was that he’s heading back to Castle Aefraya on orders. I thought he was sent hereon orders, but it seems he’s needed elsewhere.”
That probably meant Tessarion had called him back—which meant he likely intended for Alwyn to be the only one left on this mission. Something caught in Alwyn’s throat at the thought that this might be another show of trust. Perhaps this was his way of showing that he knew Alwyn could see this through to the end, giving him the best opportunity for plausible deniability. After all, the more dangerous the mission for the two of them, the less anyone could blame him for defending himself with lethal force.
“I see,” he murmured, doing his best to keep his expression neutral. “Thank you.”
“There’s more,” Gorza said. “Galred provided me with some information, a parting gift.”
Krujha looked intrigued, but Alwyn’s heart skipped a beat. Could Galred have been in the Mage Princeps’ confidence as well?
“Your friend here has been holding out on us, Krujha,” Gorza said, though she was eyeing Alwyn with an inscrutable expression. “He is among the more powerful mages of the Library, so Galred says, and should be capable of long-distance teleportation.”
Alwyn nearly passed out from relief, the blood pounding in his ears draining away all in a rush. While the knowledge of elventeleportation was largely a secret, it was one he was far more willing to share than what Tessarion had given him.
“It’s true,” Krujha confessed after a beat. “Though I wouldn’t say he’s been holding out. It’s how we managed to get back here so quickly.”
“Will wonders ever cease,” she replied dryly, though she seemed more amused than truly annoyed. “Well, that makes the end of this plan much clearer. Krujha brings you in, Alwyn, and with the help of our mutual friend, you’ll secure a meeting with Zesh. Decide on a point outside the camp before infiltration, and it will be as simple as teleporting there at a convenient time for him and Krujha to subdue him.”
