Page 53 of Of Kings and Thieves

“I don’t feel so lucky,” Scarlet was saying, and I turned my attention back to her.

She was propped against the wall, still looking weak and sore, but no longer bleeding. “I blundered right into that pack of orcs, like the idiot that I am. They hit my head pretty hard and when I woke, I was spinning and swinging like crazy. And the orcs were standing below with their arrows. They began using me for target practice, and then when their scouts heard you coming, used me as bait to draw you into the tower.”

“Were you captive long?” Magnus asked.

“Only a few hours.”

“Then where did the other bruises come from?” he growled. “The older ones?”

Indeed, the redhead had multiple yellow bruises on her arms and face. Scarlet shrugged and then winced with the movement. “You know how it is.”

Magnus stood and scowled down at his sister. “No, I don’t. You’re always rushing fucking headlong into danger, Scarlet, and one of these days you’re not going to be so lucky. There won’t be a Samara or Magnus or Killian or Col to save you.”

“Calm the fuck down,” Scarlet said. “I admit that I got into a bit of trouble a few days ago, but it comes with the job.” She glared at Magnus. “Sit down, brother. Your anger is as helpful as a splinter in my ass.”

Magnus sat, but that muscle in his jaw continued to work as he glared at her. Scarlet ignored him and looked at Col sitting beside me. “When you’re king, we’ll hunt these green bastards down until there isn’t one left within a hundred leagues of our borders.”

Col didn’t say anything for a moment, silently regarding the red-haired woman.

She seemed to understand his contemplation, though he had said nothing. “You can’t be thinking of a treaty?” she choked out.

“You forget this used to be their land, too, long ago.”

“The lands to the north were always orcish lands, yes, but not Ravenfell Pass, at our eastern gate! And what about what just happened to me? To all of us?”

“The orcs responsible for harming you have been punished,” Col said with finality. “If, by some twist of fate, we are able to oust The Harrow from Iron Deep, he won’t go quietly. How are we to keep him out if we’re fighting our nearest neighbors? The bigger threat here is Harrowfell. We won’t be able to send soldiers after the orcs with The Harrow at our borders. And unless I miss my guess, the orcs have been driven here out of desperation.”

“What do you think has brought them here, then, if not opportunity?” Killian asked.

Col ran his hand through his days-old beard. “I don’t know. I’ve only heard rumors that the orc kingdoms to the north have splintered. You know how orcs are—even the hint of rumor is brutally squashed before it leaves their gates—so if something has happened and we’ve heard of it, then it must be serious, indeed. What if I can create an alliance with the orcs near Ravenfell? Have them protect our eastern border in exchange for these lands. They make better use of them than we do, anyway.”

Killian sat back, frowning in thought. “It just might work.”

“Or just might make us all dead,” Scarlet muttered.

“We have bigger things to worry about at the moment,” Magnus said, looking at his sister. “Tell Col what you heard.”

She nodded. “The Harrow is angry you haven’t shown yourself.”

“That’s not surprising,” Killian said.

“No, but he’s altering his ultimatum. I think he knows you’re close, Col, because he’s given you until the end of the next full moon to turn yourself in. I would have told you sooner, except for those orcs.”

“The full moon is tomorrow,” I said, tightening my grip on Col’s hand.

Col’s face looked stern. “The news is not unexpected.”

“What are you going to do?” My question lingered in the small space, but no one answered.

Finally, Col sighed and ran a hand over his face. “I’m still working on that.” He put an arm around me and kissed the top of my head.

Soon after, the conversation died. Col, Magnus, and Killian took turns keeping watch, and I could tell by the way Col stood that he was worried about a search party looking for the missing orc band. That, and likely every other weight on his shoulders.

I spent time admiring my new sword and cleaning it the way Col had shown me. While Col, Magnus, and I had all searched, the monster hunter was the one who presented it to me, beaming and explaining how it was a perfect fit for me. But while everyone agreed I had shown courage and skill to kill those orcs on my own, no one had enough confidence in me to defend them against another attack, or to take the watch. I was so tired that I didn’t care enough to argue, and I knew that my few weeks of training, and small bit of luck, could not substitute for their lifetimes of practice.

Eventually, Col joined me and examined my sword. “This is human made,” he said. “Not bad for something picked off a dead orc, and much better than the sword I found for you at the Thieves’ Camp.”

“Who’s comparing?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

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