Oh.
Oh dear goddesses. Even there? Even their cocks are adorned in gold.
The green men come to a halt, raising their hands.
My gaze narrows. What does that mean? Surrender? A warning?
I pulse my crystals once, a silent command. Theron immediately slows, his heavy breathing controlled despite the pounding of his heart still pulsing through him. The army behind us follows suit and stops. Now, we stand before these creatures, a mere fifty steps apart. A tense silence settles between us. And then, the front row of the green men tilt their heads back and sniff the air. My stomach drops. Oh, dear goddesses. Please. Let them not be scenting Theron’s damp back, covered in my arousal.
“We have interrupted the Blue Rose and her mate. My apologies,” says the green-skinned warrior at the front.
I just stare. There is no way I’m witnessing this madness. And then, they all bow. I blink.
What in Láda Veléša is going on? Did I fall asleep on Theron after we both collapsed into bliss? Is this some dream? I clear my throat before forcing my voice out. “Who are you?”And why are you green?I want to ask, but somehow, that question feels more ridiculous than the entire situation itself.
The warrior lifts his head. “My name is Thra’kkor. I am the chief of the orcs.”
My head almost tilts on its own, but I fight the urge to react. Orcs. I have no idea what that is or what they are.
“Thra’kkor of orcs,” I echo, slipping off Theron’s back and landing with a solid thud of my boots. Theron instantly straightens behind me, claws flexing. As I step forward, so do the orcs behind Thra’kkor. My warriors growl, fur bristling with instinct. From the edges of the field, the wolves that have followed us for days stand still, watching us. Watching me.
I don’t know why, but I feel their waiting eyes. Their bellies are full of the corpses of rebellious men, the nýmphí even tried to calm them and scratch behind their ears. But nothing changed. So be it then. I lift my chin.
“What is the purpose of your arrival? Have you been sent by the tsar?”
Thra’kkor nods. “We have.” The moment the words leave his mouth, the orcs near him step aside.
A violent growl rips from Theron’s throat, his body moving forward without hesitation. Our warriors mirror him.
I raise a hand.Hold.
And then I see why. The tsar’s men. One. Three. Seven. Shoved forward like cattle.
I go still.
I would never mistake that uniform with the blue rose insignia, the symbol that ismine. The symbol he has no right to claim. My gaze narrows, burning with fury. The prisoners tremble, their bodies betraying them as fear coils around their spines like a vise.
One of them—a younger soldier, barely a man—clutches his mouth, his chest heaving. His face is pale, slick with sweat, eyes darting wildly between me, Theron, and the orcs. He sways. He’s about to throw up.
Another, older, battle worn, collapses to his knees, gripping the soil as if it’s the only thing anchoring him to this world. His fingers dig into the dirt like he’s trying to hide himself from the horrors he’s seen—or is about to see.
One of them lets out a high-pitched whimper. His entire body shakes so violently his armor clatters with every breath.
Another stares at me, unblinking, as if looking at something beyond human comprehension. His lips move soundlessly, forming words that never come. A prayer? Or maybe he’s simply lost all ability to speak.
The last of them, a man twice my size but crumbling under his fate, slowly tilts his head upward. His eyes—dull and broken—meet mine. There is no defiance in them. What have they done to these men?
“The tsar wanted us to assist him against you and the vólkins, Your Majesty,” Thra’kkor says, his voice calm, almost amused. He called me by my title.
I narrow my eyes. “And I’m supposed to believe that?”
My crystals ignite with a fierce blue light that pulses from my forehead. The trembling men’s eyes widen, beyond fear.
I tighten my grip around my sword, and in response, the blade surges with the same blue light. Its glow reflects in their terrified eyes, their minds scrambling between fight and flight, though neither will save them.
Suddenly, the wolves stir and point their snouts in the opposite direction, ears flat against their skulls. I flick my gaze toward them for just a second, just enough to register the change in their behavior. Then??—
A sound like cracking bone shatters the moment.
