When a few seconds pass and the cascade of flaming projectiles ceases, I glance over at the catapult and notice theorcs are struggling to light the second batch of projectiles on fire. A tall human male with glowing red eyes emerges from the forest and heads for the catapult.
I scoop Amelia into my arms, jump to my feet, and bolt for my tent. I rush her inside and place her on the bed. “Stay here. I will return as soon as I can. Please try not to worry. I promise my army will have no difficulty vanquishing this foe.”
She stares at me with wide eyes, her face unsettlingly pale, and gives a slight nod. “O-okay.”
I spin around and rush to the tent flap. Just before I step outside, her voice comes to me again, and her words send me reeling with shock.
“Please be careful, Tristan!” she calls.
Buoyed by her apparent regard for my safety, I summon wings and launch into the sky with a roar.
I kill the mage first. He’s so weakened from his efforts trying to make the enchanted catapult work, that he’s unable to fight back when I grab him by the ankle and soar upward as he dangles from my hand. I take him higher than the clouds, then let go. Moments later, as I zoom down toward the camp, I witness the satisfying splat of his body impacting the ground. He lands on a rocky area amidst the camp, and his head splits open so beautifully it causes my bloodlust to heighten.
I want more. More death. I want to savor the screams of my enemies.
In between slaughtering orcs, I locate several of my commanders and issue orders, then I set myself to the task of hunting down the orcs that have infiltrated the camp. As I kill and kill and kill, I keep one eye on my tent. If anyone dares to go near it, I’ll spill their guts in the dirt.
It’s not long before the very last orcs are rounded up. Even by orc standards, their war party was a small one, yet they’dattacked us. No doubt, they’d foolishly believed the human mage would turn the tide in their favor.
I oversee the interrogations, which don’t yield any useful information, followed by the executions of the remaining orcs. Then, I order extra guards to be posted around the campsite, as well as additional highborn fae to patrol the skies.
Finally, I head for my tent. For Amelia. I long to hold her in my arms and make sure she’s all right. If she’s scared, I pray she will accept my comfort.
As I approach my tent, I notice the flap is slightly ajar, and a pair of bright blue eyes are staring out. Those eyes widen suddenly, and the tent flap returns to its proper place. Stunned, I enter and peer at my little war prize.
“How did you do that?” My voice comes out harsher than I intended, and guilt slams into me when Amelia takes a quick step back. “I warded this tent, and no one should be able to move the flap aside, even a small amount. No one but me or any fae servants we invite inside.”
“I have no idea. I simply did it.” She takes another step back. “I-I wasn’t trying to leave the tent. I just wanted to see what was happening.” She draws in a huge breath, and her hands tremble at her sides. “You, um, killed a lot of orcs. And that red-eyed human, whoever he was.”
“The red-eyed human was a dark mage,” I tell her, and she gasps.
“A dark mage? Oh, gods.” Her eyes gleam with worry. “Are there more of them in the area?”
“Mages tend to work alone, except for when they take on an apprentice. But given how untried this particular mage was, I don’t believe he had an apprentice. Fear not, sweet human,” I say, finally gentling my tone, “I don’t believe there are any more dark mages in the area. No orcs either, for that matter. I’ve dispatched scouts to be certain, and extra soldiers will remain onguard all throughout the night, and highborn fae will continue to patrol the skies. No harm will come to you, I swear it.”
She wraps her arms around herself and her trembling increases.
How the fuck did she manage to pull the tent flap back and watch the battle? I still can’t fathom it.
If she’d attempted to step outside the tent, would she have succeeded? I seriously hope not, though I resolve that we’ll test her abilities soon.
If my wards won’t keep her inside the tent, I’ll have to post guards outside.
I approach Amelia slowly, longing to hold her. I don’t like that she’s shaking, and as I consider the harsh tone I’d used moments ago, I start to worry that perhaps I’m partly the cause of it.
“Amelia, I am sorry I raised my voice at you.” I mean it. I am sorry, deeply so. I wish I could turn back time and re-enter the tent and address the issue of her possible ability to bypass my wards with more calmness. I know Lord Nevel was physically abusive, and I suspect he probably shouted at her plenty too. I don’t want to be the sort of male who takes my anger out on her, not verbally or physically, and I resolve that I’ll better manage my emotions going forward.
She lowers her head slightly and nods. “It’s okay. I’ve been yelled at much worse.” Her lower lip wobbles, and her eyes fill with tears.
“Amelia,” I say in the gentlest voice I can muster. “I truly am sorry.”
“That’s not why I’m upset.” To my shock, she steps closer to me. “I was worried about you. A couple of times, I saw an orc come up behind you, during the few times you were on the ground, and each time I swear my heart nearly stopped.” She shudders, and a tear cascades down her cheek. “You savedme. You shielded me with your body. And then you carried me to safety and stormed straight back into the danger. I-I’m glad you’re unharmed, Tristan.”
Her words reverberate in my head, shocking me to the depths of my being.I’m glad you’re unharmed, Tristan.Is she starting to care about me?
“Amelia, sweet human, would it be all right if I… held you? I don’t like seeing you shaking and afraid, and I would very much like to comfort you right now. If you’ll let me.”
She sniffles and another tear falls. “I’m not afraid anymore. But yes, yes you may hold me.”
