Krujha’s frown deepened. “Is that wise?”
“With any luck, he won’t have the chance to spread the knowledge to anyone else,” Alwyn replied. But the orc seemed unconvinced, his expression remaining troubled. “Besides, I’m not seeing any other orcs with magic in the camp.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Krujha sighed, relenting. “Just... be careful in what you share with him, Alwyn. If he truly does control that raven like they say, then any message he sends could spread much further than you ever intended.”
Alwyn was silent. Krujha’s concern was understandable, but Alwyn didn’t share it. If everything went as planned, neither Zesh nor Yarug would live long enough to spread whatever information Alwyn gave them in any meaningful way.
The problem was that he couldn’t say as much to Krujha. This would all be so much easier if he could tell him the truth, especially as it seemed more and more likely that Alwyn would have to kill both Zesh and the druid to have any hope of making it out alive. Doing that alone felt more and more impossible the more he learned about the camp.
He wanted to be able to tell Krujha everything. The thought caught him off-guard. Krujha had somehow wedged through all his defenses, first becoming his friend, and now… whatever it was they were to each other.
When all this was done, he didn’t want to leave Krujha behind, and he didn’t want to have to do this alone.
“Alwyn?” Krujha asked, concern in his eyes again. He gave a start, realizing he had been silent for too long, and his conflict was probably obvious on his face. “Everything alright?”
“Yes,” he stammered. “I just...”
The words wouldn’t come. He could so clearly see Tessarion’s disappointed face—could hear his oft-repeated instructions that mages of the Order had no friends—that mages of the Order worked alone, or they did not work at all.
But Tessarion was hundreds of miles away, safe in his secluded office. And Krujha washere, in the belly of the beast with him, risking his own safety to bring Alwyn the tiny comforts of a bar of soap and a book. Suddenly, that seemed far more important than the words of his mentor.
“I have to tell you something,” he blurted out before he could stop himself. Krujha raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, instead gesturing for Alwyn to proceed. “I was sent here... I was sent here to ensure Zesh never makes it to Drol Kuggradh. To kill him. To kill them both now, before they can be captured.”
The words were barely above a whisper, but the silence that followed felt deafening. Alwyn watched Krujha’s face for any sign of emotion, his heart pounding. The orc’s face had become carefully neutral, and he was staring at Alwyn in complete stillness—not even blinking. For a moment that seemed to last a lifetime, Alwyn’s nerves turned to utter despair. Maybe that was where Krujha drew the line, and he would refuse to help Alwyn any further. Maybe now he would be well and truly alone in this deadly task.
A jolt of shock shuddered through him as a wide grin stretched across Krujha’s tusks. The orc laughed, raising a hand to stifle himself.
“What?” Alwyn gaped, confusion and anger flooding him all at once. “I’m not—I’m serious!”
“I know, I’m sorry,” Krujha said through barely controlled giggles. “It’s just—it’s a lucky thing we were paired together back then. I planned to kill Zesh from the start, too.”
Alwyn froze, feeling his eyes widen. He might have stumbled back, reeling in shock, if he weren’t already sitting down—of all the things he expected Krujha to say,thathadn’t even registered as a possibility.
All this time, they had been secretly working toward the same goal. Had any of them ever truly intended to capture Zesh and return him to Drol Kuggradh? Was the whole mission a ruse?
Or—the thought made his skin crawl—was this just another act Krujha was putting on? He had seen glimpses of a darker version of Krujha. One that had glanced at him as if he were a crawling insect. One that fit in so easily with this camp of rebels, none of whom would have any qualms about killing Alwyn at a moment’s notice. Alwyn had convinced himselfthatwas the act—thatthiswas the real Krujha—but if the real Krujha had been keeping such an important secret from him, how could he be sure of the orc’s true intention?
No, that wasn’t fair, Alwyn thought. He’d been concealing the same truth, so it would be hypocritical to allow that to taint his image of Krujha. They both worked with secrets; it was hardly their fault that neither had known the other was privately on the same page the whole time.
He realized Krujha had been watching him just as carefully, waiting for his reaction. But when Alwyn’s eyes met his, that familiar, soft smile returned to his face.
“I always suspected there was more going on with you, little spitfire,” he chuckled, reaching over to trace a finger lightly down Alwyn’s cheek. Despite the gravity of the situation, Alwyn couldn’t help the slight shiver of pleasure that raced through him at the casual affection. “No offense, but you’re not a very good spy.”
Alwyn bristled, scowling, and Krujha laughed. Suddenly, everything felt familiar and easy again. “Maybe. But I’m an excellent assassin, and that’s what counts.”
“I believe that,” Krujha said warmly, still smiling as he leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “So… now all our cards are on the table, and we can actually work together on this.”
Alwyn nodded eagerly. “See why I’m not so concerned about giving magic to the druid?”
“I understand better now, although I still think it’s ill-advised,” Krujha said, grimacing. “But you’re hardly in a position to deny him, so it is what it is.”
“I’ve been waiting for a good opportunity to get them both,” Alwyn said. “Maybe this is it. I’ll probably be alone with the druid.”
Krujha shook his head. “I think we need to coordinate something together. Things will devolve quickly once they’re both dead, and I don’t think either of us will want to be around for that.”
“Right.”
“Don’t do anything rash for now,” Krujha continued. “Let’s both think about this now that we know we can rely on each other, and we’ll come up with a plan.”
