My tail swishes lightly, betraying the swirl of emotions inside me. “It’s not about whether you can handle them. It’s that they shouldn’t treat you like property in the first place.”
She presses her lips together, as though uncertain how to respond. Then, quietly, “Thanks.”
An awkward silence. Despite everything, the air between us crackles with unspoken energy. I shift my stance. “We do have to attend the feast. But beyond that, you’re free to remain in my estate or accompany me if I travel. No public parades. I’ll shield you from that.”
She nods, gaze flicking away. “I guess that’s the best compromise we can manage right now.”
I open my mouth to speak, but a clang of metal from the entry hall diverts our attention. A guard rushes in, breathing heavily. “Champion, we found something near the docks. A crate marked for your estate, but it contains contraband—blades, possibly orc-forged. The workers turned it over to us.”
A jolt of alarm spikes through me. “Orc-forged weapons in a crate addressed to me?”
The guard’s eyes widen. “Yes. We thought you’d want to see it personally.”
I exchange a glance with Mira. The infiltration we suspected might be more blatant than we realized. “Show me,” I order, motioning for her to follow. She trails after me, expression grim.
We exit the estate’s main doors into the street beyond. At the base of my front steps stands a wooden crate, pried open, revealing a cluster of short-swords. Their metal has a distinct dull sheen, typical of orc craftsmanship. The handles are wrapped in rough leather. The sight raises the hairs along my neck. Why would a shipment of orc weapons be addressed to me?
I crouch beside the crate, gritting through the ache that flares in my side. “Where did this come from?”
The guard, chest still heaving, points toward a scruffy minotaur worker lingering by a cargo cart. “He delivered it. Claims it arrived on a barge last night, labeled for your household.”
I beckon the worker closer. He approaches nervously, adjusting his threadbare tunic. “We got these crates off the boat just as dawn broke. They had your seal pinned to the outside. But once we opened one to catalog the contents—” He shrugs. “This is what we found.”
Mira peeks over my shoulder. “Someone wants these in your estate, with your name attached. Could be a setup.”
I glare at the edges of the crate, noticing a forging mark that looks like a stylized boar’s head. “That forging mark belongs to a clan known to trade with orcs.” My suspicion flares. “If these were found here, the Senate might accuse me of colluding with orcs.”
The worker lowers his voice. “We trust you, champion. But if this news spreads, who knows what the Senate might think.”
Heat sears through my gut. “Take the crate inside. I’ll have it inspected by my own people, see if we can trace the real sender.”
He and the guard nod, hauling the crate up the steps. I watch them disappear into the estate, fighting the swirl of emotions building inside me. It’s not enough that I have to juggle Senate demands about parading Mira; now someone is trying to plant evidence of orc dealings at my doorstep.
Mira lays a hand gently on my uninjured arm, drawing my attention. Her expression holds genuine concern. “This could ruin your standing if the Senate believes you’re involved in smuggling. They might twist it to their advantage.”
“I know,” I reply, letting out a breath. “We have to act fast before Vaelen or Ortem spin a story.”
She glances back at the street, where a few curious onlookers eye the scene. “We suspect infiltration. Maybe they’re targetingyou specifically, the champion known for facing orcs. If they can discredit you?—”
“They can push their own agenda,” I finish, anger simmering. “Or even bring me down, forcing a new champion who’s more pliable.”
Her grip on my arm tightens slightly, then releases. She steps back, clearing her throat. “If you need help investigating, I’m in. I doubt anyone else in your city wants to see you exonerated more than me.”
Her words stir a flicker of warmth despite the tension. “Then we’ll do it together. We’ll find who sent that crate, gather evidence, and bring it to the Senate before they bring false charges against me.”
She nods, gaze intense. “All right. You lead; I’ll follow.”
I bite back a grin at the unintentional meaning behind her phrase. “You are no follower, Mira. But I appreciate the sentiment.”
We reenter the estate, where the guard and worker deposit the crate in a secure storeroom just off the main hall. I stoop by the open lid, examining the swords more carefully. Each blade bears identical forging marks, rough hammered edges, and a faint smear of dried mud that suggests land travel before it ever reached a boat. I pick one up, weigh it in my palm. The balance is poor, typical of orc weaponry mass-produced for raids.
I turn to Mira. “We should visit the harbor personally. See if the dockmaster knows who declared this cargo. Maybe we can trace it backwards.”
She nods. “We can go now, if you’re up for it.”
My side twinges, but I push through the discomfort. “Let’s do it. The Senate might sniff around soon. Better we have answers first.”
I beckon two guards to accompany us, then lead Mira out the front gates. The morning sun climbs higher, warmingthe sandstone streets. We navigate a path down wide avenues framed by ornate columns, citizens parting to let me pass. There’s still an undercurrent of awe in their expressions—after all, I’m the champion who defeated the orcs. But rumor travels fast. Some cast sidelong glances at Mira, others openly gawk, as if expecting her to be shackled. She ignores them, posture tense but unyielding.
