Page 88 of Orc's Redemption

The Al’fa turns to the crowd.

“Let this be the first step,” he calls. “Let the Zmaj, the Urr’ki, and the humans bear witness to what we build together. And let those who would stand in the way… consider what Tajss itself has to say about it.”

He gestures toward the ruined wall. And no one protests. Dust dances in the air while I stare at the cracked arena and the fire-glow bleeding through the stone.

The Paluga is no myth. The alliance is no longer a dream. Everything is real now. And this is just the beginning.

32

ELARA

The silence after the quake is wrong. Instead of peace, a buzzing hum crawls under my skin. It’s too muted to hear and too loud to ignore. My ears ring, my skin feels flayed, nerves raw and exposed like bone and sinew.

I inhale a shaky breath. The air smells like scorched earth and stone, and something else. Something acrid, deep, and ancient that burns at my nostrils and makes my eyes water. I lean against the wall, blinking dust from my eyes, and try to slow my breathing.

Ryatuv is beside me, one hand braced on the stone as if the tunnel might lurch again and he’s ready to throw himself between me and danger. Z’leni is ahead, scanning the way forward with taut muscles and twitching shoulders. They’ve said nothing either, adding to the oppressive silence.

The contrasting heat and coolness of their bodies clings to me, a phantom impression where they’d saved me from hitting the ground. Ryatuv’s hand had been partly on top of Z’leni’s under my ass and thighs.

The moment they’d both realized it had been... charged, to say the least. Now they seem to be doing their best to pretend like nothing happened. Like they didn’t both catch me, hold me, steady me as the world fell out from under us.

But I remember. And I still feel them.

Z’leni runs his fingers along a deep crack where ancient carvings have split down the center. He mutters something under his breath in his own language, low and reverent. Maybe a curse. Maybe a prayer.

“Your gods abandon you?” Ryatuv snorts softly.

Z’leni stiffens. He slowly turns and looks over his shoulder, a low growl curling his lips.

“Or maybe they’re testing me by chaining me to a snarling lizard who thinks his fists are a solution to everything.”

“And yours are not?”

The words are casual, but the tension in the air is anything but.

“Stop it,” I snap before it escalates.

Two pairs of eyes swing to me. Ryatuv’s gaze holds a flicker of something, guilt maybe. Z’leni’s expression is tight, his clenched jaw making his tusks angle towards his nose as he crosses his arms in quiet defiance.

“Enough,” I say, quieter. “We don’t have time for posturing. We’re barely alive. We need each other.”

Z’leni looks away, lips pressed thin. Ryatuv exhales like he’s trying to bleed off his anger.

“I know. I just—” he starts, but I cut him off.

“I know,” I say, softly.

Neither look at me, staring at the floor or eyes roving around the tunnel. Anything but meeting my eyes or each other. The moment stretches, tight and unbearable.

“We should—” Ryatuv says at the same time Z’leni begins to say the same thing.

They stop mid-sentence and glare at one another. The tension is back, instantly, but before I move to intervene yet again Z’leni looks away and just like that, it’s gone. Ryatuv stares at him for a moment longer, then huffs and shakes his head.

“Right,” Z’leni says, looking over to me. “Ready to move? The heat is rising.”

“Yeah,” I say, eyes darting between the two of them. “We should get going.”

We continue and the path slopes downward again. No one wants to be the first to speak, so the only sounds are our steps and the slow drip of water echoing from somewhere deep in the stone.

---