I smiled crookedly at her, “I can be heartless.”
“Not that heartless.” She said softly, and brushed my pinky with her own.
I scowled at her. “We agreed to keep things separated.”
“You’re a solo act now. In this game you’re about to play, there are no rules. The dirtier you fight, the better your chances of surviving. And I fight very, very dirty.” She hissed. Her eyes traversed the length of my body, resting on the bulge in my dress.
“Is court adjourned?” I asked, arching by back to present my body.
Her eyes met mine once more. “You betrayed me today. If you were anyone else, you’d be begging for death right now. I think I’m owed a little something special tonight.”
I stared into that cruel sapphire gaze, that imperious, beautiful face, and my cock grew rigid against my satin dress. I knew what she wanted from me, but even if I was half dark-elf, it scared me. And yet, I loved her, and her perverse sadism was part of that love. Ever since she’d inflicted her horrors upon me in the catacombs of Castle Thorum, she had held back on her worst desires. She had let me be dominant, she had let me abuse and ravage her, and she had loved it, yet I knew the dark corners of her mind still held fantasies that she wanted to fulfill upon my flesh. In truth, those horrific nights in the catacombs had changed me in dark ways too. Agony, terror, blood. Pleasure.
I took one breath, then another, and whispered, “Go get your knives.”
YAVARA
I scratched the fox behind the ear, and she nuzzled her head into my lap with a growl. I stroked her down the spine, and she looked hopefully up at me. I shook my head, and she whimpered, and rested her head back. Ever since I’d left Alkandra, I’d kept April with me, safe from Brock, and safe from her own unnatural desires—those desires I’d carved into her mind. I didn’t know if I could undo the damage that I’d done, but I was going to try. I owed it to April, and I owed it to Adrianna. I owed it to myself to prove that I wasn’t the monster I feared I was becoming.
“There, there,” I whispered to her, “it’s alright.”
“Great Froktora, great wizard, great queen,” Gorlok Hertaki said, prostrating before us, “I have come at your behest.”
“You have come in chains, coward.” Brock said gruffly beside me.
“Coward?” Gorlok inquired at the ground, “Am I a coward for surviving? Is that my crime?” He looked up at Brock, “I charged headlong into that attack, and when we engaged the flank of the elven cavalry, and I turned to call for reinforcements, why did the centaurs just stand there and watch us?” He snorted, “I’m no fool, Froktora. I knew in that moment that my fate had been sealed. Then I learned later that the other chieftains and their heirs had all died gloriously in battle, and you call me a coward.”
“I’ll tear your bones out!” Brock roared to his feet. I put a hand on his thigh, and guided him back down.
Zander tapped his staff on the ground. “We lost tens of thousands on the battlefield, Gorlok. Do not look for a conspiracy where there is none. Chieftains lead their men, and so they are the most likely to fall. The centaurs you called for aid had been given orders to act as support, not reinforcements; you were mistaken. When you broke off your attack, you risked the elven cavalry summitting the hill and seeing the hidden force there. Had they not decided to pursue your cowardly flight, the whole battle may have been lost.” Zander turned to me, “I think you should have him executed immediately.”
“Send him into exile.” Brock growled.
I stroked April, and considered the orc before me. Gorlok was right, there had been a conspiracy. Zander and I had meticulously planned the battlefield deaths of every chieftain of the Ten and their heirs to secure my power over the horde. Brock had hated the idea; it was why he voted for mercy even though he despised Gorlok.
“Gorlok Hertaki, I bid you to stand.” I said. He did, his chains clanking. “Your actions on the field were cowardly and put the whole horde in jeopardy. For that, I strip you of your title, I erase your family name, and I sequester all lands that you claim. You are Gorlok of Alkandra now, and you will burn your tribal tattoos from your flesh.”
“I would rather you just kill me.” He grunted.
“That would be a pity.” I replied, “For my army would lose its greatest warg-rider. You may not be a chieftain, but you will still be a general, and when the war is over, you might find that the fair rulers of Alkandra treat their heroic generals very, very well.”
His lip curled at the thought. Ever since Trenok had come back from Alkandra and recounted his tale, legends of the hybrid’s angelic beauty and demonic deeds had been told around the campfires, elevating Adrianna and her compatriots to the status of sainthood amongst the orcs.
Is it wise to let him live? Zander asked in my mind.
It was you who told me to spare Adarian and turn him into an asset.
There was never any risk of Adrianna inciting rebellion.
Gorlok is no headstrong fool. He’ll play ball to get ahead in the new world. Find use for him, Zander.
Gorlok grunted, and rose to his feet. “If that is your verdict, Your Highness.”
“It is.” I said, and nodded to the guards. They unshackled the orc, and he was escorted with dignity from the tent. I turned to Zander. “Is that the last order of business for today?”
“Drake Titus wants to know when his next delivery is ready.”
I frowned. “He’s getting impatient.”
“You did make a promise, Your Highness.” Zander said, “It’s best that you don’t get too attached.”
Brock grunted next to me. “The sooner you get them out, the better. If the horde learned what you were really doing with those Highland officers, there would be riots.”
“Which is why we are doing it in secret, Brock.” Zander said.
“We’re doing a lot of things in secret these days, Wizard.”
“Enough.” I said, raising one hand. “Zander, are they ready to make the journey?”
“They are fully-developed.”
“And we’re going to just throw them away to Drake Titus.” Brock growled, “It only took eight of them to build Alkandra from nothing, and now you’re—”
“If you think this decision is easy for me, Brock, you are mistaken.” I said sharply, “Every hybrid I create is like a child to me, and I have given fifty of them to Titus already! We all must make sacrifices in war, as you well know.”
Brock clenched his jaw, but did not respond.
“Zander, you will prepare the hybrids for their journey.” I said, then turned to Brock, “And you, my Froktora, will come with me.”
BROCK
The Highland Rift towered over everything. It was a great wall that stretched from horizon to horizon, every inch of it fortified. Ballista, trebuchets and catapults loomed threateningly atop its ridgeline, and the glint of golden helms could be seen watching us from above. Even with the Dark Queen and all her great power, there was no way to assail the rift without taking massive casualties. Still, it was doable. Tens of thousands would die, but the Highlands would be mine—or Yavara’s. I had told her as much, but she insisted that we spread the lines out and bleed the Highlanders for a season before we think about an invasion.
Think about an invasion. I thought bitterly to myself. With Elena and Prestira dead, I had hoped that Yavara would have no compunctions with finishing this war once and for all, but she was delaying the decision. Maybe it was for the best. After what Trenok had told me about Adrianna and the other hybrids, I knew my title of Froktora would mean next to nothing once the war was over. And then what? Would I spend the rest of my days in bars and brothels, fat and pissing on myself as I boasted about deeds no one gave a shit about anymore? Would I stand in the arena and try to recapture old glory as a gladiator? That would’ve been very appealing to a younger me, but not now. I hadn’t clawed my way to the top of a kingdom just to become a celebrity. I had grander ambitions in mind.
Yavara surveyed the causeway that led to Mid Fort, her hands resting impatiently on her hips, her perfect ass painted with black leather armor.
Ask her, you coward. Came the voice in the back of my head. Grow a sack, and fucking ASK HER!
But I couldn’t. There was a coldness to her now, a levelheadedness that tempered my confidence. She was no longer the carefree girl who would make rash decisions on the whim of the moment. She’d changed since coming back from Alkandra. She’d stopped drinking, she’d stopped rampantly fucking, and she’d stopped partying until dawn. It worried me. The Dark Queen was supposed to be chaotic and hedonistic, engaging in self-destructive revelry because she was indestructible. Now she was as calculating as Zander, and I knew I was not the answer to her equations.
“Why have they not sent an emissary?” Yavara asked, “Surely they’d want to open communications.”
“Peter Shordian is an old-school tactician.” I said, “He has the high ground, and he wants you to know it. An emissary will arrive, but only at his time.”
“All this military posturing is so fucking pathetic.” Yavara sighed, “Why does everything between men have to be a dick-measuring contest?”
“If that’s how wars were decided, we would’ve already won.”
She smirked over her shoulder at me. “Are you so sure about that?”
“Line me up shaft-to-shaft against any elf.”
“There’s a very fine line between machismo and flagrant homosexuality, and you walk it precariously, Brock.”
I grabbed her leather-clad ass, and pushed my middle finger into her crack. I felt the supple flesh where she kept the cutaway in her armor, and penetrated her favorite hole. She sighed splendidly, and leaned against me, subtly arching her back so that my finger could slide deeper. All around us, the army mulled about, but none could see what I was doing to their queen in broad daylight, and I knew the idea turned her on, for I felt the wetness dripping down her taint.
“If you were a man, my queen, you’d be the most notorious faggot on Tenvalia. No woman should garner so much pleasure from where she shits.” I growled lowly in her ear.
She purred in response, wilting against me, my words arousing her almost as much as my exploratory finger did.
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