Page 96 of Orc's Redemption

“You’re important...,” he says, pausing, his eyes darting from me to Z’leni then back. “To the mission.”

“Right,” I say, trying to ignore how much that stings. Why is he retreating now? He said he came for me. We shared a moment. A kiss, but now I’m a mission? This doesn’t make any sense. “The mission.”

When I step forward, his hand brushes the small of my back. Guiding me and steadying me, but his touch burns through the thin fabric of my shirt. I don’t pull away. I should. I don’t. Behind us, Z’leni chuckles. It’s a low rumbling sound and I can’t decide if it’s actual amusement or something else.

“You two going to flirt the whole way, or are we escaping certain fiery death today?”

I glance over my shoulder to glare at him, but he just grins through the pain. There’s a smear of soot on his temple, and one of his braids has come loose, hanging low over one eye. He looks infuriatingly relaxed for someone hobbling through an active deathtrap.

“You okay?” I ask, ignoring his comment.

He snorts, shaking his head. He glares at Ryatuv over my head.

“Yes. Great,” he says. “Walking on a twisted leg through boiling tunnels with a glorified brute who looks at me like I’m one wrong move from being a liability.”

“You are a liability,” Ryatuv says.

“You’re jealous because I’m prettier.”

“Shut up and walk,” Ryatuv snaps.

Z’leni smirks but obeys. My heartbeat is racing as I roll my eyes, but the truth is this bickering is keeping us grounded. Keeping us sane. And as much as I hate to admit it, I need that right now. Because if I think too hard about what’s ahead of us, or worst what’s beneath, I’ll spiral. I’ll break.

Another tremor rattles the stone beneath our feet. It’s sharper this time, more like a pulse than a quake. I grab for Ryatuv’s arm because he’s closest. He’s solid, unyielding muscle beneath my fingers. He steadies me without hesitation. His hand covers mine, tight and grounding. Z’leni stumbles behind us with a grunt, grabbing the wall for balance.

“I think we’re getting close to more of the magma veins,” I whisper. “The air is... thicker.”

“No,” Z’leni says. “That’s the Paluga. It’s rising.”

A chill creeps down my spine despite the heat.

“Then we need to be faster,” I urge, hating the way my voice cracks but desperation fills my thoughts.

He nods, and we press on. The tunnel narrows, forcing us single file. My shoulder brushes rough stone, and every step is an effort now. The heat is suffocating. I can’t tell if the dizziness is from dehydration or fear. I think it’s both.

A faint glow appears up ahead. A trickle of light seeping in from looks like a collapsed vent. I climb over debris to reach it so I can peer into the hole. Beyond it, I can just make out another tunnel, wider and sloping upward. Hope sparks in my chest.

“I think there’s a way out,” I say over my shoulder.

Z’leni and Ryatuv are at the bottom of the debris. They’re standing side-by-side, close enough that their shoulders almost touch. both stare with narrowed eyes. They look at each other and for a moment it’s as if they only then realize how close together they are because they both startle and take a step away from each other.

“Heh,” Z’leni grunts.

He comes first, climbing up onto the debris with Ryatuv right behind him. They’re partway up the pile when another tremor, stronger this time, slams into us like a wave. I’m thrown forward, hitting my head against the wall then falling down the pile. I bounce off the hard ground scraping my hands and arms against stone. Behind me, I hear a sharp cry.

“Elara!” Z’leni.

I whip around. Dust clouds the tunnel. Z’leni is on the ground, pinned beneath a jagged slab of rock. His green face is pale, lips clenched tight. Blood trickles from his shoulder.

Ryatuv is already moving. He lifts the rock with a roar, muscles straining, and shoves it aside. Then he crouches and grips Z’leni’s arm.

“You idiot,” Ryatuv growls. “You dove for her.”

“She’s smaller,” Z’leni grits out. “Easier to crush.”

“Youdovefor her.”

“I repeat, prettier,” he growls, face twisting in pain.

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