Chapter 15 #3
"It was an order given at a point of desperation," he admitted at last, his voice low, gravel roughened but steady. "Your attrition tactics were working to grind us down. My father thought your death would break Maidan's will."
His gaze softened—not much, but enough that she saw it.
"But I have no desire to kill you, Eliza. Especially now."
The words lingered in the stillness between them, heavier than steel, more dangerous than any blade.
"If you want to end this war for good," he said, his voice deep and deliberate, "then work with me."
Her pulse kicked at the calm certainty in his tone.
"As for the prospect of marriage..." His gaze swept her face, lingering, assessing. Then the hard line of his mouth shifted, the faintest curve breaking through—devilish behind his tusks, wry in a way that unsettled her more than his threats ever had.
"I don't find you repulsive."
"I'm so glad you feel that way," she replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
Her chin lifted, her eyes hard, daring him to push further.
She wasn't about to admit—ever—that there had been moments when she'd found him striking.
Regal. Even handsome. That thought was hers alone, and she buried it quickly, smothering it beneath the memory of cold steel at her throat, the gag stuffed between her teeth, the rope biting into her wrists.
Appearances didn't excuse threats.
Or kidnapping.
Or coercion.
Her sarcasm still lingered in the air when his expression changed—shadows giving way to something sharper, heavier.
"I will do everything in my power to make this succeed," he said, and the words carried no mockery, no jest. Only certainty.
It startled her more than any threat.
And then he let the mask slip further. His voice dropped, rough with something she hadn't expected to hear from him.
"I'm weary of it, Eliza. The bloodshed. The killing. I've had enough."
The admission hung between them, raw and unguarded, like a secret that had escaped him without permission.
She didn't know if she could take him at face value. His words might have been truth, or they might have been a carefully crafted trick, another layer of manipulation.
But she wanted—desperately, achingly—to believe him.
And yet she couldn't afford to. Not entirely. Not when the lives of her people hung in the balance. She needed to be strong, clever, patient. If she was to survive this... if Maidan was to survive this... she had to lure him back to Istrial. Back to where she would have the upper hand.
So she softened her voice, tilting her head just enough to suggest acquiescence. "You said we are going to Istrial tonight?"
"We will return," he said, the cold mask sliding back into place, his voice sharp and final. "Under guard and ready to bargain. Your people will meet my terms. No exceptions, Eliza. No tricks or subterfuge. The deal is exactly as I say."
The reminder hit like iron: she was still his captive. Still his hostage.
But how, she wondered bitterly, did he expect this mad plan to work? Did he truly think she would be paraded before her own council as a bargaining piece, a pawn to be maneuvered under his command?
Her spine straightened, steel rising in her chest.
"I am the Queen of Maidan," she said, her voice cutting through the chamber like a blade. "There is no way you can expect me to exist under your bidding. If you, a prince, are marrying me, a queen, then you will sit at my side, not I at yours."
"Yes," he agreed without hesitation. "I will be your consort."
Eliza froze, staring at him in disbelief.
Was he truly mad? An orc, giving up supremacy so easily, so calmly? That wasn't how they were. Not how he was.
No—he wasn't mad. He was clever. Too clever. He had his reasons, and she would be a fool to think otherwise.
But still...
Her heart thudded hard in her chest, a strange flicker of triumph stirring beneath the disbelief. This was her chance.
She could take back power. Take back her crown.
And if this union was the only path forward, then she would seize it—not because she wanted it, not because she trusted him, but because it was better than death.
"We will be married in name only," Eliza declared, forcing her voice to ring with command. "If you come to live in the castle, we will have separate chambers. You will be free to come and go as you please, so long as you abide by your royal commitments."
His expression didn't change at first. Then the corner of his mouth flicked upward—subtle, brief, but unmistakable. Amusement.
"Need I remind you," he said softly, dangerously, "that you're in my domain? You don't get to dictate terms here."
"What terms?" she demanded, exasperation breaking through her careful control. "Do you even know our marriage customs? What's expected of husband and wife?"
His reply was swift, sharp, almost a growl. "Do you know mine?"
The words hung between them like drawn steel, challenge flashing in the air.
He didn't back down. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence filling the space, his voice low and unyielding.
"To an orc, marriage vows are sacred. We take mates for life. And we become equals in all things. In flesh, in mind, in soul."
Eliza's pulse quickened, but she forced her chin higher, her voice sharp with accusation. "You're the one who's forcing a political marriage. And you expect me to think you'll treat me like an orc woman?"
"Why wouldn't I?" he asked.
His gaze deepened, black and fathomless, cutting straight through her defiance.
That shocked her.
She hadn't allowed herself to think about that possibility... not truly.
Yes, she had admired him—grudgingly, from a distance—telling herself it was only because she had no choice but to observe him. Telling herself she wasn't supposed to.
There was no way they could be like that. Partners. Equals. Sharing... intimacy.
The thought itself was dangerous. Impossible.
And yet—
Heat rose in her cheeks, unbidden, betraying her. A tendril of something treacherous curled in her belly, winding tighter with every heartbeat.
She hated it.
She feared it.
But she couldn't deny it.
"In case you've forgotten," she snapped, her voice cutting through the heavy silence, "you were going to kill me last night."
The words lashed out sharper than she intended, a shield against the heat rising in her cheeks, against the treacherous turn of her thoughts.
Her pulse thundered. She clung to her anger like a weapon, refusing to let him see the flicker of weakness that had just threatened to betray her.
"Things change," he said simply. "Believe me when I say I no longer intend to kill you. It wasn't something I wanted to do in the first place. Accept it. Move forward."
Her eyes narrowed. "Is that what you do? Just accept?"
He shrugged, unbothered, shadows curling faintly at his feet. "It is our way."
"The orc way?" she pressed, her tone sharp. "To quickly forget grudges? I'm not an orc."
His gaze deepened, and when he spoke again, his voice was lower, rougher—something hoarse and dangerous curling beneath the words.
"No. But you are a woman."
Heat flushed her skin, and she hated herself for it. This can't be happening.
"I can show you," he rasped, the words sliding over her like a dark promise, "that there are benefits to being with one such as I."
Anger coursed through her, white-hot, stripping away the last of her caution.
He had abducted her from her own bed, held a blade to her throat, bound her like an animal, and dragged her across the plains to this prison of stone.
He had stolen her freedom, her dignity, her crown—and now he spoke to her of marriage benefits?
As though the violence between them could be so easily forgotten?
As though the fear that still lingered in her bones whenever he moved too quickly was nothing?
No.
This was beyond inappropriate. This was madness. This shadow-orc who had shattered her world overnight now presumed to rebuild it according to his whims—and that was proof enough of his insanity.
Before she even realised what she was doing, her hand closed around a heavy tome from his desk. She swung it up and hurled it at him with all the fury she could summon.
"You do not get to do this to me," she spat. "Not after what you've done. Leave me."
The book struck him squarely, a dull thud echoing through the chamber.
He didn't move to block it. Didn't retaliate.
He just stood there, silent, shadows licking faintly at his feet, the strangest expression carved across his face—something she couldn't read, something she didn't want to.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she tore her gaze from him, turned on her heel, and stormed out of the study.