We stop before a pair of large wooden doors. One guard pushes them open, revealing a vaulted hall that looks like a receiving chamber. I see tapestries depicting stylized minotaur heroes locked in combat with serpentine creatures. The color palette is vibrant—burnished gold, deep red, and midnight blue. The other guard beckons me forward. I step inside, hearing the echo of my own footsteps. My heart thuds, half expecting some new condemnation.
“I am nobody’s prize,” I mutter under my breath, the quietest vow.
A second voice breaks the silence. “Yet here you stand.” It’s him—the one I saw earlier. Remanos Ironhide. His presence fills the space with calm intensity. He stands near a low marble dais, arms crossed over his broad chest, horns catching the flickering torchlight. Up close, I see his face is more human than bull, with a heavy brow ridge and a short, broad muzzle. His nose is flat but shapely, and his lips are surprisingly expressive for such a large being.
I match his gaze, ignoring the tremor in my stomach. He’s easily over a foot taller than me, his silhouette all corded muscle and coiled strength. A diagonal scar stretches across his pectoral, a stark white line against the dark fur that tapers near his chest. He radiates the kind of confidence that only seasoned warriors possess—an aura that demands respect or fear, perhaps both.
“Welcome to Milthar,” he says in a tone that’s neither mocking nor warm. “I’m told you’re… an offering.”
The memory of the orc’s sneer sours my mouth again. “So they say. But I don’t belong to you, or them, or anyone else.” My voice wavers slightly, but I keep my chin up.
Remanos studies me, expression unreadable. “I never asked for a human trophy, if that eases your mind.”
“It doesn’t,” I snap, then immediately regret the hostility, because I have no real leverage here. My shoulders tighten. I take a measured breath. “I suppose you’re the champion they spoke of. The one who’s supposed to fight in the arena for your city.”
He nods once, a small inclination that confirms it. “I’ve held the champion’s rank for several seasons. The Senate chose me for this duel.” His tone carries resignation, as though he had no real choice in the matter.
My eyes stray over his attire—leather straps crossing his upper torso, a bronze pauldron covering one shoulder. A heavy war hammer rests against a stone stand nearby. The handle is carved with runic symbols, the head shaped like the face of a roaring bull. This is a warrior’s domain. I feel the pressure of his gaze as he examines my disheveled appearance, the ragged clothes, the bruises scattered along my arms. A flicker of something crosses his features—pity? Regret?
I bite down on my anger. “If you’re champion, that means you’re powerful here. So tell your Senate you don’t want me as a… part of this arrangement.”
“Believe me, I’ve tried,” he replies, voice dipped in quiet frustration. “They consider accepting you a political strategy. They think the orcs will leave more willingly if their so-called tribute is embraced.”
I let out a short, humorless laugh. “So I’m a diplomatic gesture. How flattering.”
He inclines his head, acknowledging the bitterness in my words. “I can promise no harm will come to you while you’re in my care.”
I glower at him. “Your ‘care’? That’s just a prettier cage, isn’t it?” My gaze flicks around the hall, noting the fine columns,the comfortable seating, the dais that might serve for official addresses. “At least I had a fighting chance on the road. Here, I’m just… stuck.”
Remanos doesn’t flinch. “I’m sorry it’s come to this. It’s not in my plans to treat you like a spoil of war.” He shifts his weight, arms uncrossing. There’s a flicker of turmoil in his posture. “Would you kneel for me if the Senate demanded it?”
My stomach tightens. “Never.”
He nods slowly, as if he respects that. “Then I will not ask it. But this city has traditions, and the Senate is bound by them. They see you as a powerful tool.”
I want to scream that I’m no tool. My heart pounds, and I force myself to remain calm. “Is that how your people operate? Bribery and spectacle?”
He frowns. “Our culture values honor above all else. The Senate believes receiving you as a tribute honors the old dueling traditions with the orcs. They think it might keep the clan from marching in with full force.”
I search his face for deceit. Instead, I find a guarded sincerity. He doesn’t like it either. That much is plain. But he’s going along with it, presumably for the good of his city. My wrists are still bound, the cuffs laced with thick rope now that the chain has been removed. I rub at them, feeling the raw skin. If he’s champion, he could demand they untie me. He doesn’t. That alone makes me doubt any claim of compassion.
He tracks my motion. “Let me see your wrists.”
The last thing I want is more handling, but I extend them anyway, too exhausted to keep up another argument. He reaches out, touches the rope, then glances at one of the guards stationed near the door. “Undo this.”
The guard hesitates. I sense the tension between them—a chain of command that might not be as straightforward as I assumed. But eventually, he takes a small blade and slicesthrough the rope. My arms jerk free. I massage the angry red marks on my skin. There’s a wave of relief so strong I nearly sink to my knees, but I steady myself, refusing to look weak.
Remanos studies me a beat longer, then gestures toward a side corridor. “I’ll have someone prepare a room for you. It won’t be as luxurious as the Senate expects, but you’ll have privacy.”
My eyes narrow. “Privacy. Right.”
He exhales, tail swishing once in a motion that seems almost exasperated. “I’m not your enemy, Mira.”
My heart stops. “How do you know my name?”
“The orcs mentioned it.” He flexes his thick fingers, the movement drawing my attention to the ridges of muscle in his forearm. “You said you were a traveler, captured some weeks ago?”
My throat constricts at the memory of their raid. “I was part of a small caravan. We heard there was a hidden library in the desert region beyond the orc territories. My father used to gather lore for… never mind. We strayed too close, and the orcs attacked.”
