Page 24 of The Orc Warrioress and the Elf Lord

Iahir watched him go.

Gathren suddenly took off running.

Well, of course she did.

By the golden-fingered dawn, he was tired and did not wish to run after her. Maybe he didn’t have to. He watched as she sprinted down the hallway.

“Are you letting her get away, Iahir?” thundered Marthlis.

Fuck everything. Iahir went after her.

She had a head start, but he knew the house better. She ran all the way down the hallway, probably thinking she’d find another stairway, but the stairs they’d come up were the only one on this floor, so she was soon trapped in a dead end.

As he approached, she turned and drew her sword.

He did not draw his sword. He held up both of his hands. “Look, just give me a minute here, would you?”

Her sword wavered.

He glanced back over his shoulder, making sure that Marthlis had gone down the stairs, which he had. He moved closer, lowering his voice. “Let me make a show of it, of tying you up, and then he’s going to go looking for people. You heard him. He’ll leave the house. When he does, I’ll let you go.”

“We both know that if we fight, here and now, I will trounce you, because I have done it time and time again in the sparring field. Then, I will escape and you wont need to let me go.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Well, yes, I suppose, but it’s been quite a night, has it not? I’m rather exhausted, physically and mentally. Do you want to fight?”

“I don’t want to be tied up,” she said. “How long am I going to be tied up?”

“Not long,” he said, gesturing with both hands.

“Why would you let me go?” she said. “You’re trying to trick me—”

“I would never,” he protested. “I like you, warrioress.”

She glared at him.

“Not just in that way,” he said. He lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. This is all a mess, and it’s your fault, I suppose, but also it isn’t, because if you hadn’t come, the attack would have come when it did, but we wouldn’t have been motivated to kill Findas when we did. Of course, I don’t know if I even care about that.” He sighed.

“You don’t care about anyone or anything, do you?” she said. “Why do you do the things you do?”

“Sure, I care,” he said. “I care about you, and I have just said it. Don’t you trust me?”

“Not a bit,” she said, but she lowered her sword. “But I believe you for some reason.”

He smiled. “Good. Now, just come with me, and I promise not to tie you up very tight, and the minute I can, I will let you go.”

GATHREN WAS SET free onto the streets in the very early morning, just as the sun was rising. The city was still, except—in the distance—there were the sounds of cannon fire and screaming, a sign that the battle raged on.

Gathren supposed she should go back to the orc army and tell them that she’d gotten the High King killed.

She was not entirely sure how that would go over, though. She had deserted the army, left without permission. She had no proof that she’d had anything to do with Findas’s death. I should have taken something from his room or his body, she chided herself. But she had not thought of such a thing, not then.

Orc punishments could be rather harsh. Deserters were sometimes executed. She likely wouldn’t be, on account of her being a woman. However, she might be kept in a prison for days or—more likely—sent right into the thickest part of the fighting.

If she survived that, all would be forgiven.

Of course, she could also die.

Well, perhaps she had no other choice.