I snort. “My position, meaning what? They dangle the promise of letting me remain champion if I fall in line?” My tail flicks restlessly.
Ortem nods. “In fact, there’s talk among the Bavkus of offering you a seat—an influential role in shaping policy. They believe it will pacify the common folk. But only if you publicly denounce Mira’s meddling and pledge loyalty to the Senate’s decisions.”
Outrage pounds through my veins. “They want me to throw her to the wolves. Claim she’s lying or forging documents, so I can climb higher in their ranks?”
He spreads his hands in a helpless gesture. “Champion, politics often demands sacrifice. The city cannot afford to appear divided, especially with orc aggression lingering on our borders.”
I lash out verbally, voice trembling with fury. “You’d have me betray an innocent woman to preserve the Senate’s facade of unity?”
He draws back, expression pinched with discomfort. “I don’t relish it. But the Senate is resolute. Either you accept their terms, or they’ll petition to remove you as champion and arrange Mira’s extradition.”
My heart slams against my ribs. Every fiber in me rebels at the notion of betraying her. Memories of last night flash through my mind—her warmth, the breathless vulnerability we shared. The thought of handing her over to orcs, or branding her a liar in front of the city, makes me sick.
“If I refuse?” I manage, voice gruff.
Ortem lowers his gaze. “Vaelen has enough allies to force your ousting. They might send her away within days. I’m sorry, Remanos, but that’s the reality.”
An uneasy hush follows. My estate staff stands at the periphery, sensing the tension but not daring to interrupt. Finally, Ortem steps back, drawing his cloak around him. “Give the Senate your answer soon. I don’t wish to see you dethroned, champion.”
He turns, hooves clacking against the polished floor as he departs. My guard follows him to the gate, ensuring he leaves. I remain frozen in the foyer, each breath burning my lungs. The Senate offers me a seat in the Bavkus—unprecedented power, a chance to shape Milthar’s laws—if I side with Vaelen’s narrative and quash Mira. The very notion disgusts me. Yet refusing invites the Senate’s wrath and puts Mira in mortal danger.
I trudge down a corridor, mind spinning. I know where I’m heading—toward the estate’s smaller library where Mira often reads shipping records or scribbles notes about sabotage. I suck in a sharp breath at the thought of seeing her again. How can I face her with this fresh threat?
Passing a row of tall windows, I glimpse her silhouette inside the library. She’s pacing, the midday light illuminating her figure, highlighting the tension in her posture. I step in quietly, noticing her hair bound back for convenience, her clothes practical for rummaging dusty ledgers. She looks up as I enter, eyes narrowing with concern.
“What happened?” she asks, voice taut. “You look like you could tear the marble out of the walls.”
I exhale, fighting the swirl of emotions. She’s the cause of my turmoil and also the one person who might ground me. “Ortem just came. The Senate demands we stop this investigation. Otherwise they’ll brand you an agitator and ship you to the orcs.And they offered me a seat in the Bavkus if I comply.” My voice resonates with bitter disbelief.
Her face pales, lips parting in shock. “They’re blackmailing you? If you betray me and pretend everything is Vaelen’s lies, they’ll elevate you to the Senate?”
I nod stiffly. “Exactly. They want a unified front, no matter how rotten the truth is. If I cooperate, they’ll let you stay—on a short leash, presumably. If I refuse, they threaten to remove me as champion and hand you over.” My throat aches with the vile choice they’ve thrust upon me.
She sets down the ledger she’s holding, hands trembling. “So Vaelen escalates. And he’s winning if the Senate is parroting his stance.”
A wave of shame washes over me. “I can’t do it, Mira. I won’t lie about you or yield to Vaelen’s deceit.” I clench a fist. “But refusing means risking everything.”
She presses her lips together, gaze searching my face. “I’d never ask you to give up your rank for me, Remanos. This city is your life. I know how deeply you care for Milthar’s people.”
I let out a ragged breath, stepping closer so our gazes hold. “I’m champion to protect the innocent, not to feed them falsehoods. Selling you out isn’t an option. I’d rather lose my seat than become Vaelen’s puppet.”
Emotion flickers in her eyes—gratitude, fear, something else. “Then we fight back. We expose Vaelen’s crimes to enough honest senators that they can’t ignore us. There must be some who still value real justice. Ortem maybe, but who else?”
I shake my head, the tension in my shoulders intensifying. “We have a few leads—some neutral senators, the city’s commoners who admire my arena victories. But Vaelen’s hold on the Bavkus is strong. He’ll smear our evidence as fabrications.” My anger coalesces. “He’s planting rumors that you manipulated me with your ‘foreign wiles.’”
Her face twists in distaste. “Typical. Make the outsider woman into the conniving seductress.” She exhales, eyes softening. “I hate that you’re caught in this crossfire.”
I can’t help recalling the moments we shared last night, the stolen intimacy that transcended all the Senate’s bigotry. The memory warms me, even as guilt tugs. “It’s not your fault. I welcomed you into my estate, accepted the Senate’s decree. Maybe I sealed your fate from the start.”
She frowns. “Don’t. We’ve faced orcs, conspiracies, and blackmail. None of that is your doing. We fight side by side, remember?”
A swirl of relief tempers my anxiety. She doesn’t resent me for the Senate’s cruelty. Perhaps we truly are in this together. I nod, stepping close enough that her subtle lavender scent tickles my nostrils. “Yes,” I say softly. “But I hate that you risk so much.”
She must sense the turmoil in me. Her hand lifts, briefly resting on my forearm, a soothing gesture that only intensifies the jumble of emotions churning beneath my stoic facade. “You’d do the same in my place. Let’s figure out our next move.”
Before I can speak further, a footstep sounds behind us. One of my senior guards, Tarek, stands at the threshold, looking uneasy. “Champion, the Senate has called you for an audience in the lower forum. They want you to address rumors of sabotage.”
I hold back a snarl. Another cunning tactic to corner me in public, no doubt. “Very well. Tell them I’ll attend.”
