We build a ragged pace, the couch creaking under our combined weight. Her breathy moans and my hushed growls intermingle in a frantic dance, each movement a testament to the unstoppable bond forging between us. My chest tightens with a pang of protectiveness so fierce it almost hurts.
She gasps my name, eyes glazed with raw emotion, and I catch her mouth in a kiss that devours the sound. Our bodies slip into a near-desperate sync, driving higher into a realm where the Senate’s threats fall away. A spiral of heat coils in my core, tension gathering until it’s overwhelming. She clutches me, lips parted in a quiet cry, and I feel her unravel in my arms. Thesensation sweeps me along a moment later, thunderous pleasure flooding every nerve. We cling, locked together in that storm, hearts pounding as one.
In the aftermath, we collapse onto the couch, bodies still joined, warmth radiating in the quiet air. I press my forehead against hers, catching her ragged breathing. Her eyes shimmer with tears, a mixture of joy and heartbreak. My own chest feels stretched too tight with conflicting emotions—relief, guilt, fierce devotion. If the world ends tomorrow, we’ve claimed this piece of serenity.
After a long moment, she tries to speak, voice weak with spent adrenaline. “You… ruin me, Remanos.”
I manage a shaky laugh, though tears threaten behind my eyes. “You ruin me too, Mira. And I’d do it all over again.”
We ease apart gingerly, limbs protesting with fatigue. She pulls the remnants of her tunic back around her shoulders, cheeks flushed. I smooth down my fur, heart still hammering. The silence is thick with unspoken fears about what we just did. We’ve bound ourselves even tighter—on a day I might lose my title. Yet I can’t regret a single breath.
I brush a tender kiss across her brow, then help her stand on trembling legs. Her hands hover near my chest as if she can’t quite let go. “They’ll come for me again,” she whispers, voice trembling. “Vaelen won’t rest until I’m rotting in a Senate cell or forced onto some orc slave ship.”
My jaw clenches. “Over my dead body.”
She touches my cheek gently. “That’s exactly what I fear.”
Pain lances my chest, but I grasp her hand, pressing it to my heart. “We’ll face the Senate as one. If they demand I betray you, I won’t yield.”
She sniffles, face shadowed by heartbreak. “You’ll be stripped of everything. The Freedmen rely on your champion’s status. The city needs you. It’s not just about us.”
My throat feels raw. “I know. But I can’t— I won’t watch them drag you into darkness. Whatever the cost.”
She searches my eyes, tears threatening again. Then she exhales, nodding with a final, trembling resolve. “Then we do it together.” A faint, sad smile touches her lips. “We’re both idiots, aren’t we?”
I tuck a stray lock of her hair behind her ear, heart full. “Perhaps. But I’d rather be an idiot who protects you than a champion who bows to injustice.”
A trace of humor flickers in her eyes. “I might have to punch you if you start spouting valiant lines like that in public.”
I huff a soft laugh, hugging her to my chest. Her body melts against mine, exhaustion claiming us both. For a moment, we let the hush cradle us, recharging the fragile bond we’ve sealed once more. Despite the lingering sense that we’ve just crossed a threshold of no return, a stubborn part of me cherishes the fleeting comfort we found.
Eventually, a gentle rap at the study door startles us. We pull apart, swiftly adjusting clothes. My Freedman guard calls through the wood, “Champion? The Senate’s messenger has arrived for the hearing. They say you must appear soon.”
Nausea churns in my gut. So soon. I look to Mira, who closes her eyes, forcing composure. We slip back into the roles the city demands: champion and his so-called “spoil.” Yet we know the truth is far more entangled now.
I clear my throat, voice rasping. “Tell them I’ll be ready. And… ensure no one tries to arrest Mira on the way out.” My Freedman affirms, footsteps retreating.
Mira runs a shaking hand over her face, reorganizing her disheveled appearance. I gently tuck the edges of her tunic, mindful of her sore arm. “Are you ready for this?” I ask softly.
She meets my gaze, a flicker of steel behind her tears. “No, but I’ll do it anyway. We stand or fall together.”
I press my forehead to hers, letting our breaths mingle. “Yes.” Then I draw back, steeling myself. “We face the Senate. We won’t let them crush us.”
Arm in arm, we exit the study, stepping into the corridor where Freedmen line up, eyes flicking with concern and admiration. They see how we stand side by side, unbroken. The battered soldiers from earlier might have run to Vaelen by now, but we’ll greet whatever punishment awaits us head-on. My heart beats unsteadily, overshadowed by the knowledge that this day could reshape everything—my champion’s rank, her fate in Milthar, the city’s future.
Yet with her warmth lingering against me, I feel an unshakeable surge of determination. They can threaten, brand me traitor, strip my rank, or lock her away. But they won’t break the bond we’ve forged. We’ve claimed each other in defiance of their twisted rules, and that alone gives me the strength to walk into the Senate’s den, gaze unflinching. Our entire world stands on the brink, but at least we face it hand in hand, hearts blazing. And if the city tears us apart… we’ll fight to the last breath to find each other again.
13
MIRA
Today feels like standing at the edge of a chasm, every step threatening to pitch me into darkness. I sense it in the tense hush of Remanos’s estate, where Freedmen whisper in corridors, and every servant’s glance holds undisguised fear. Word arrived at dawn: The Senate demands a final resolution. Either Remanos surrenders me to the orcs, preserving his champion title, or they’ll strip him of every right and resource he’s ever held. One look in his eyes this morning—anguish and refusal—told me how near we are to being devoured by Vaelen’s machinations.
I’ve sequestered myself in a small side room, one that used to be a lounge for visiting dignitaries. Now, it’s my hiding place from the estate’s silent stares. My notes are scattered over a low table, detailing all the proof we’ve gathered. Pages naming old Vakkak–orc treaties, scribbled logs about contraband shipments, a partial ledger carrying Vaelen’s seal. So much evidence, yet the Senate remains enthralled by Vaelen’s show. They twist facts, brand me a saboteur. And now they want me gone. No hearing, no trial, just a forced handover to orc emissaries.
I rub my forehead, heart racing. Last night, Remanos defied them openly, physically blocking the Senate’s soldiers who tried to arrest me. He chose me over his rank for the second time. And while I’m grateful—relieved, even—knowing I’m the reason he’s on the brink of ruin twists my stomach. Guilt weighs like a stone. If I vanish, maybe they’ll spare him.
A soft knock at the door startles me. My breath hitches, but I manage, “Come in.” The door opens, revealing a Freedman guard named Tila, a young minotaur with worry etched in her furrowed brow.
