Page 9 of Orc's Redemption

“I understood perfectly,” I reply calmly, though inside my temper flares. “You summon me without so much as a word of courtesy, then scowl and dismiss me as if I am the one who has disrupted your council. Am I mistaken, or am I your guest here, Al’fa?”

His amber eyes snap up to meet mine fully, and for a moment the cavern feels smaller, tighter, as though the weight of his presence alone could press the stone walls inward. He straightens, making the bone chest plate rattle, and crosses thick arms over his broad chest. His wings shift with the motion, sending a ripple through the air.

“You are a guest, and a prisoner,” he corrects smoothly. “Do not confuse the two.”

Vapas growls low beside me, but I place a hand on his forearm. The last thing I need is him lunging at the Al’fa in a room full of Zmaj.

“You’ll forgive me, then, for assuming the etiquette of your people wouldn’t be so... crude,” I say, stepping forward, chin high. “Or perhaps this is how the mighty Al’fa negotiates, with grunts and insults?”

Drogor snorts. Za’tan’s lips twitch as if he’s suppressing amusement. But the Al’fa? His eyes darken, stormy now, but beneath the irritation there’s something else. Curiosity, or perhaps grudging respect. Or maybe I imagine it. I hope not.

“Careful, Queen,” he says, voice a low warning. “You mistake hospitality for leniency.”

“If this is hospitality, then your leniency is already stretched thin. And so is my patience.” I laugh softly, arching a brow. “Your warriors sneer at me, your compound reeks of distrust, and now I stand here to be barked at like a servant. Forgive me if I fail to see the welcome in this.”

“You’re alive, aren’t you?” The words are hard but lack true heat. “And so are your warriors. I wouldn’t test the patience of my people further.”

I mirror his stance, folding my arms over my chest.

“And I wouldn’t test mine.”

The room is thick with tension, and for one pulse of a moment, it feels like a thread might snap. It’s too taut, too fragile. Yet there’s something undeniably electric about it, as if we’re both acutely aware of the power standing opposite us.

“Al’fa, perhaps we should—” Drogor says with a clearing of his throat, breaking the moment.

“No,” the Al’fa cuts him off, gaze never leaving mine. “She wants to speak? Let her.”

I hesitate, my mind warring with pride. But this is what I wanted. An audience, leverage.

“I am here because your people are as endangered as mine,” I say, voice steady but softening. “The Paluga will not distinguish between Urr’ki or Zmaj when it wakes. Your warriors, your people, they will all be consumed.”

“You assume we believe in old fables,” Za’tan says, folding his claws on the table. “The Paluga is nothing more than a bedtime story to frighten hatchlings.”

“And yet your own second disagrees,” I reply, nodding to Za’tan, who shifts uncomfortably but doesn’t argue.

The Al’fa leans forward, placing his claws on the table’s edge.

“This is my concern. You bring threats, prophecies, and yet it is your Shaman stirring ancient powers.”

“My Shaman,” I repeat, venom curling around the words, “betrayed me. He betrayed us all.”

The Al’fa studies me. I feel the weight of him again, the heat behind his stare.

“Convenient.”

“And yet true,” I fire back, the taste of betrayal sharp on my tongue.

We stand locked, neither willing to yield. His features are sharp, battle-worn, but it’s the focus in his eyes that rattles me. This is not just a brute with blunt instincts as he puts on, this is a warlord, a strategist. And now that he’s paying attention, I’m aware of every inch of space between us.

Footsteps echo from the corridor, hard and fast, scattering the brittle tension like pebbles across a still pond. The heavy curtain sways and Rosalind storms into the room, her human features drawn in fury.

“What is this?” she snaps, eyes darting between the Al’fa and me. “You convene without me now?”

The Al’fa does not turn.

“You were not summoned.”

“Summoned?” Rosalind bites out, stepping closer. “I’m not one of your underlings, Al’fa. You’ll not treat me like a servant.”

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