Vaelen’s expression doesn’t flicker. He gestures at the two lesser senators, who remain silent but watchful. “My personal seal, you say? It’s a common enough design. Are you certain it’s not a forgery to implicate me?”
A tremor of anger winds through me. I hold up the parchment, revealing the wax seal that’s half-cracked but still displaying Vaelen’s stylized horns. “You tell us. Why would orcs and their minotaur collaborators sign your name to trade in stolen steel?”
His eyes linger on the parchment, but his composure remains maddeningly intact. “Interesting. If I recall, you’re the one who’s been paraded as a war spoil. Perhaps you’re rummaging for leverage to free yourself—fabricating documents to tarnish my reputation.” He glances at Remanos. “Have you considered she might be manipulating you, champion?”
My jaw tightens. “I’m not forging anything.”
Remanos’s voice drops to a dangerous pitch. “Watch your words, senator. Mira has more integrity than you give her credit for.”
Vaelen chuckles, though there’s no humor in it. “Oh, I’ve no doubt she’s cunning. She was an orc captive, after all. Perhaps she learned some dark secrets in their camps. What better way to sow discord than target me?”
I clench the parchment, knuckles whitening. “You’re deflecting.”
His eyes gleam. “Or you’re scheming.” Then, with a casual wave of his hand, he addresses Remanos. “Champion, can you truly trust her? She hates Milthar’s traditions, hates that she’s your spoil—by orcish custom, of course. Perhaps she’s decided to burn everything down, including your champion’s reputation, and pin it on me.”
The casual cruelty of his words ignites my fury. I open my mouth to retort, but Remanos steps forward, horns angled in a quiet threat. “Don’t use her as a smokescreen, Vaelen. We have no reason to fabricate claims. We have every reason to stop the orcs’ infiltration—unless you’re part of it.”
Vaelen’s lips curl. “The orcs are a menace. I’d never ally with them. If documents bearing my seal exist, they’re forgeries. I can only conclude you two are desperate—especially you, Mira.” He drags his gaze over me, an unsettling mix of scorn and twisted fascination. “Is this your attempt to avoid the fate of a captured trophy? Are you so intent on undermining the Senate that you’d frame me for treason?”
My pulse thrums in my ears. “You’re the one forging Remanos’s crest, dealing with orcs behind the city’s back.”
He snorts. “What a bold accusation from a ‘disruptive influence.’ Maybe it’s time the Senate revisits your status. You’re not exactly a citizen. If you persist in these slanders, we might deem you an enemy of Milthar. The orcs might reclaim you.”
A surge of cold terror meets blazing rage in my chest. The idea that they could deliver me back to orc captivity is a nightmare I can’t endure. Remanos’s tail lashes, and I sense the tension in every muscle of his broad frame.
“You’d threaten to return her to orcs just to hide your wrongdoing?” Remanos demands, voice trembling with suppressed anger.
Vaelen shrugs. “If she insists on undermining the city. We must protect ourselves from foreign agitators.”
One of the lesser senators stirs, uneasy, but remains silent. I suspect they’ve heard rumors of Vaelen’s conspiracies but fear his power more than they believe in justice. My breath comes faster, chest tight. We have partial evidence, but Vaelen’s brazen enough to deny everything and twist the Senate’s laws to silence me.
Remanos lifts his chin. “This is your final chance to come clean.”
Vaelen’s laughter is mirthless. “You come empty-handed, with scraps that could be forged, and you expect me to cower? Let me give you a final warning, champion. Keep your pet under control. If she disrupts the Senate further, we will brand her a threat. And you, champion, might lose what protection your title affords.”
Remanos’s fists clench. I fear he’ll snap. But something in his posture signals retreat. He’s no fool—we don’t have a smoking gun in the ledger alone. Presenting it to Vaelen, rather than a neutral senator, was a risk. Vaelen’s too cunning to quake in his boots. A heavy dread settles over me as Remanos bows slightly, acknowledging Vaelen’s position despite the tension.
“We won’t waste more time here,” he grinds out, voice cold. “But we’re not done.”
Vaelen’s smile is razor-sharp. “I look forward to your next spectacle.”
I glare at him, fury simmering like acid in my veins, yet powerless to strike. At a subtle gesture from Remanos, I follow him out. As soon as the chamber doors slam behind us, my chest constricts in a wave of pent-up frustration.
“That vile—” I begin, but words fail me. I want to scream, cry, and punch a wall all at once. The corridor feels stifling.
Remanos’s expression is bleak. “He has the Senate’s ear. We can’t just present the ledger without more backing. He’ll spin it as forgery.”
I exhale shakily. “And he threatened to ship me back to the orcs. I… can’t go through that again.”
A fierce protectiveness flares in his eyes. “I won’t allow it.” His voice resonates with quiet promise.
We walk in tense silence through the estate’s corridors, leaving behind Vaelen’s domain. Our attempt to pin him downfailed spectacularly. I sense Remanos’s guilt thickening the air. He tried to shield me, but we’re up against a cunning politician with the power to brand me a menace.
“Back to your estate?” I manage, voice thin. “We need a new plan.”
He nods, eyes stormy. “Yes. It’s safer if you stay close.”
I bristle, but I understand. Right now, if Vaelen tries to arrest or discredit me, the only place I won’t be seized on sight is Remanos’s estate. We depart into the bustling streets. A swirl of midday commerce surrounds us—minotaurs pushing carts, hawking produce, forging metals in open-front workshops. The crowd parts for the champion, though many cast curious looks at me. I keep my hood partially up. My anger roils, leaving me on edge.
