Embers Beneath the Ice

I hadn't slept.

Not really.

I'd tossed and turned in the sheets, shifting from one side to another like a woman haunted by phantoms. My skin still burned faintly from last night's shameful indulgence, and yet it wasn't even the memory of release that kept me from rest. It was the urge to do it again. Over and over. My thoughts ran wild with scent and leather and red eyes that didn't belong in my mind. I clamped my thighs shut. I clenched my fists beneath the covers. I whispered spells of coldness under my breath to numb the heat in my belly--but the fire always returned.

I hated myself for it.

So I did what I always did: I buried desire beneath discipline.

When the fourth bell chimed--still half an hour before our scheduled departure--I rose. I bathed, dressed myself in travel clothes, and tied my hair back into a firm braid. I kept everything plain. Nothing to invite stares or attention. Just another noble fleeing a war.

I stepped out into the corridor. The estate was quiet, save for the soft shuffle of servants preparing food and packing provisions downstairs. Moonlight still clung to the halls. The sunrise hadn't yet reached the mountain's edge.

I turned left toward Kimberly's room.

She was still asleep.

The heavy rise and fall of her chest beneath the blankets told me she hadn't even stirred since returning from last night's meeting. Her weapons lay neatly arranged at the foot of her bed--cleaned, oiled, and sharpened, like always. Her armor was half-draped over a chair. I stared at her for a moment, feeling something tightening in my chest.

She looked so peaceful.

Like none of this war touched her heart. Maybe it didn't.

Kimberly had always known who she was. She never wanted the throne, never cared for court politics or rituals or the ceaseless games of power. She wanted her own mercenary company, her own banner, her own coin earned with her own blade. And now she was here, in the heart of a rebellion, not because she had to be--but because I was.

She followed me. She always had.

I moved to her bedside and sat on the edge, careful not to wake her just yet.

Could I really ask her to do this? Follow me to the Orc Mountains, to a place she'd only known through old blood-soaked stories?

I let out a slow breath.

What were my other options? Surrender to the rebels?

Out of the question. They'd execute me within the hour--or worse, parade me through the capital in chains to prove their new rule. And even if they didn't, I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of breaking me like they broke my father's name.

Should I do it to protect the Aichelles? No... they wouldn't want that. They were proud, stubborn people. They would rather fall defending their walls than live under rebel law.

Disappearance? A peasant's life?

I nearly laughed at the thought. I wouldn't survive a week.

No, I had only one path left. I had to fight.

And the orcs... they were my best chance.

Despite what Shagrat said, despite the cost the council might demand--I had to try. I had to turn their reputation for brutality into my salvation. They were feared because they were powerful. That made them perfect allies, if only I could win them.

Behind me, the blankets rustled.

Kimberly stirred, blinking up at me with heavy-lidded eyes. "Sophie?" she mumbled, her voice rough with sleep. "What time is it?"

I arched a brow. "Nearly time to leave. I assumed you'd already be up."

She groaned and rolled onto her back, rubbing at her face. "You couldn't have called for me earlier?"

"You looked so... peaceful."

She gave me a sideways smirk, though her tone was already shifting into command. "Peaceful? We're about to travel into the mountains of a race known for pillaging, and you let me oversleep?"

"I thought you'd like the challenge," I said dryly.

She laughed--genuinely, even as she swung her legs off the bed. "You're lucky I love you, you know that?"

"I'm aware."

Kimberly moved quickly, gathering her gear, fastening her leathers, strapping her sword across her back. Within minutes, she was fully dressed and alert, every motion efficient and practiced.

I watched her in silence for a moment longer.

She was always stronger than me, in ways I couldn't name.

And yet she followed me. Into the fire. Into the unknown.

I wouldn't let her regret it.

We left before the sun.

The night was cold, the sky still painted in shades of deep violet and bruised grey. A faint mist clung to the ground, curling around the wheels of the unmarked carriage like ghostly fingers reluctant to let us go. The courtyard was silent, save for the creak of wood and the quiet clatter of armor.

Shagrat stood at the front, tightening the harnesses of the two sturdy mountain horses Lord Aichelle had provided. He looked more subdued than usual, his red eyes scanning the perimeter with instinctive caution. His presence exuded command--even here, in someone else's stronghold.

He would ride as our driver.

Kimberly and I would be inside.

The moment the door shut behind me, I leaned my head against the cold wall of the carriage and sighed. Kimberly settled across from me, stretching her legs out and rolling her shoulders like this was a casual trip into town.

Her eyes found mine in the dimness. "You look like you didn't sleep."

"I didn't," I murmured.

She smirked. "What was it this time? Worrying about rebel supply lines or trying to decode Shagrat's stoic silence?"

I didn't answer immediately.

Kim always had a way of dragging the truth out of me--whether I wanted her to or not. And though I hesitated, I also knew... we shared everything. We always had.

So I cleared my throat. "Can I ask you something?"

She leaned forward, suddenly interested. "Dangerous words."

I hesitated. "Do you... find the orcs attractive?"

Kim blinked. Then slowly, very slowly, the corners of her mouth curled upward into a grin. "Oh. Oh no. Sophie." She leaned back and laughed quietly, covering her mouth with her glove. "Tell me you're not telling me what I think you're telling me."

I looked away. The mist outside was easier to face than her expression.

But that only made her laugh harder.

"Gods," she whispered, eyes gleaming. "After eighteen years of absolute chastity, ignoring every polished noble suitor Father lined up for you--this is what finally cracks the ice? An orc mercenary with a big sword and a permanent scowl?"

I gave her a sharp glare. "I'm not cracked."

"No, no," she chuckled, "you're just melting, that's all."

She held up her fingers and mimed dripping wax.

I wanted to disappear into the seat.

"You remember Lord Renhart?" she added, delighting in my discomfort. "The one who read you poetry and brought you roses from the coast?"

"He wore more perfume than I did."

Kim waved that off. "Still. Tall, broad-shouldered, brilliant jawline. And you dismissed him in a single afternoon."

"He couldn't stop quoting Horash the Bold."

"Horash is a national hero."

I crossed my arms. "He was trying too hard."

Kim kept grinning. "And then there was Lord Calden. Gorgeous cheekbones. Dueling champion. Your ladies-in-waiting nearly fainted when he took off his riding gloves."

"Stop."

"I'm just saying, you turned down a who's who of courtly perfection. But one orc comes along, says five words in a row, and suddenly--"

"I touched myself last night."

The words fell out of me in a single breath, like a confession dragged from the depths of a locked chest. My face burned. My ears rang. I stared at my hands.

Kim's expression didn't change for a moment.

Then her eyes went wide.

"Oh," she said softly. "Oh, Sophie."

I didn't move.

There was a pause.

Then, to my horror, she burst into laughter again. Louder this time. She clutched her stomach, trying to contain herself.

"I'm happy for you!" she said between gasps. "Truly. About damn time! You're almost nineteen, Sophie. You're allowed to have... urges."

"It's not normal," I muttered.

"It's completely normal."

I looked up, ashamed. "I lost control."

She calmed then, reaching forward to rest a hand on my knee. "Sophie... you've spent your whole life trying to be some flawless, distant ideal. The Perfect Daughter. The Chaste Princess. The Mage-Prodigy. Always cold, always composed. But people aren't built like that. You're not a statue."

"I needed to be," I said quietly. "Father... you saw what he became. I had to be the opposite of him. I had to prove we weren't the same."

"I know," she said. Her voice was gentler now. "But you're not him, Sophie. You never were."

We sat in silence for a moment as the carriage wheels began to creak over gravel. Shagrat had begun the descent out of the estate. The air smelled like pine and damp stone. Somewhere in the distance, a hawk cried out.

Kim spoke again, softer. "I'm not saying you should fall head over heels for the first orc that looks your way. I'm just saying... it's okay to feel things. To want. You don't have to apologize for being human."

I didn't respond.

Not because I disagreed--but because some part of me did agree, and I didn't know what to do with that.

So I nodded. Just once.

And I looked out the window, watching the mountains rise before us.

Kim leaned back into her seat, satisfied, eyes still glinting with amusement. A few moments passed before she spoke again, her voice more casual now, like they were back in the palace gardens and not fleeing for their lives.

"Between you and me..." she said, "I think orcs are very attractive."

My head snapped toward her. "What?"

She shrugged. "What? Broad shoulders, deep voices, rough hands, those intense eyes? What's not to like?"

I stared at her, stunned.

She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "And I've heard... rumors."

"Rumors?" I repeated, immediately regretting the question.

Kim smirked. "About the size of their... equipment."

I covered my ears. "Kimberly!"

She laughed again, clearly enjoying herself. "I'm just saying, if the negotiations go poorly, I might just stay behind and find myself an orc mate. Shagrat's lieutenant wasn't exactly unpleasant to look at."

My face went crimson. "You're being vulgar."

She leaned forward with a wicked grin. "You started it, little miss self-exploration."

"I shared that with you in confidence."

"And I honor your trust--by matching it with honesty." She folded her arms, smug. "Besides, better to be open about these things than bottling them up until they explode out of you at midnight."

I sank lower into the seat.

The worst part?

She was right.

Back at the Aichelle estate, the sun had barely crested the horizon when the traitor-guard watched the carriage disappear down the long, winding road that led eastward. He stood motionless at his post atop the watchtower, eyes following the dust trail until it vanished behind the hills.

He weighed his options. A pigeon would be too slow now. The rebels needed to move faster if they were to catch her.

With a final glance over his shoulder, he reached into his uniform and pulled out a thin shard of polished obsidian etched with runes--contraband, a relic of old war mages, illegal in nearly every loyalist province. He whispered the activation phrase, pressing the stone against his lips.

"Princess Sophia is en route, accompanied by her sister and orc mercenaries. Heading east toward the mountain border. Intercept. She must not reach the Orc Council."

The stone shimmered, pulsed once, and then shattered into ash.

Far to the west, across rebel-held lands, the message reached its intended recipient within minutes.

Kevin Dertran stood atop the battlements of Ravenhold--soon to be renamed in the name of the new Republic--and read the words scrawled in fire across the surface of a similar obsidian shard. His jaw clenched.

Once, he had courted Princess Sophia in the shining halls of the imperial palace. Once, he had dreamed of becoming her consort. Now, he would become the symbol of her downfall.

He turned to the riders waiting below, their horses already lathered with sweat and breath steaming in the early morning chill.

"Go. Take the Black Road through the forest and cut her off before the mountains. You have my writ--capture the Princess alive. Kill everyone else."

He handed the leader a sealed scroll bearing the mark of the rebel council.

"And remember," he added coldly, "no mercy. We can't afford to let her reach the orcs."

With a nod, the riders galloped off, hooves thundering like war drums against the earth.

The hunt had begun.

The sun had begun its slow descent, casting long golden rays across the road when I felt the carriage jolt slightly and slow. I looked up, thinking we must have arrived at the village Shagrat had mentioned.

Before I could move to open the carriage door, his voice rang out--firm, quiet, dangerous.

"Stay inside."

Kimberly and I froze. Shagrat pulled the reins to a full stop. From the driver's bench, he scanned the road ahead, then leapt down, one hand resting on the hilt of his curved blade.

"It's an ambush. Fifteen riders. They're trying to box us in."

Kimberly immediately pulled her sword into her lap, her body tense.

I pushed myself up slightly to peer through the small rear window. There they were--fifteen mounted men in mismatched armor, fanning out ahead like a pack of wolves. I swallowed the rising panic and glanced at my sister. Her eyes burned with anticipation. Mine brimmed with dread.

Shagrat moved forward, unhurried. He didn't reach for his weapon, nor did he speak. He simply walked toward them like death incarnate.

The riders didn't bother with negotiation. They attacked without a word.

What happened next was difficult to comprehend.

Steel flashed. Horses screamed. Men shouted. And one by one, they fell.

Shagrat was a blur of motion. His blade sang through the air, precise and brutal. He moved like a man possessed--like a predator among livestock. The riders had numbers. Shagrat had no armor and no backup. It didn't matter.

I could barely follow the movements, but Kimberly whispered every step as though dissecting a painting.

"Counter. Gut. Trip. Throat."

In minutes, the road was littered with broken bodies and blood-darkened dust. Only one man remained alive, barely. Shagrat dragged him toward the carriage like a sack of grain and tossed him onto the dirt in front of us.

He groaned, spitting blood.

"Princess," he said with a twisted grin, "they're coming for you. More riders. Fast ones. This was just the start."

His gaze turned to me--cruel, taunting. "We'll catch you before you reach your precious orc fort. And when we do, we'll parade your head through the capital square."

I opened my mouth to speak but couldn't find words.

Kimberly moved faster than I thought possible.

Her blade arced in a single, fluid motion. The soldier's head hit the ground with a dull thud, his eyes still wide with mockery.

She wiped the blade on his cloak, her expression unreadable. Then she turned to me.

"No more delays."

Shagrat nodded grimly, already mounting the driver's bench once more.

"The next wave won't be amateurs. We have to reach the orc mountains by nightfall."

There was no time to bury the dead. No time to grieve. I climbed back into the carriage and braced myself.

The chase had truly begun.

"We abandon the carriage here," Shagrat said gruffly. "Too loud. Too slow."

There was no argument. We dismounted, stripped the essentials, and mounted fresh horses taken from the ambush. From then on, we rode in silence.

We rode hard through the mountain passes under a moonless sky, guided only by Shagrat's instinct and the faint glow of distant stars. The horses we'd taken from the fallen riders groaned with exhaustion beneath us, their flanks soaked in sweat, but there was no time to spare. We could not risk capture, not after what we'd seen on the road.

It was hours after sunset when we finally reached the base of the orc mountains. Looming above us, jagged cliffs rose like the spine of some ancient beast. The air here was colder, thinner, tinged with the scent of pine and stone.

My thoughts churned with uncertainty. I had expected villages, perhaps towns hidden among the peaks. Even crude orcish settlements carved into the cliffs. But instead, we arrived at a barren cliff face. Only a single orc stood guard, leaning on a jagged spear, his eyes glowing dimly in the gloom.

I reined in beside Kimberly, who was frowning.

"Where are the towns?" she asked. "The orc families? Their homes?"

Shagrat said nothing. He simply nodded to the guard, who stepped aside without a word. Then he dismounted and led us into the mountain itself.

A narrow tunnel swallowed us whole.

The walls were damp and rough-hewn, lit occasionally by faint patches of glowing moss. The path twisted and turned until we lost all sense of direction. It was a maze. Deliberately so. I could feel it. I counted at least seven forks, all of them unmarked.

Still, Shagrat moved without hesitation. His footsteps were silent, precise. He'd walked this path many times before.

Finally, the tunnel opened.

We stood at the threshold of a vast cavern, so immense I could not see the ceiling. Strange lights shimmered from unseen crystals embedded in the walls, casting everything in an ethereal, shifting glow.

At the far end of the space stood five orcs, all larger than Shagrat. Their bodies were marked with tribal tattoos and their armor glinted with metal and bone. They were speaking to him in their own tongue--voices low, guttural, heated.

Kimberly and I remained back, weapons ready, but Shagrat raised a hand to keep us at ease.

The arguing intensified, but after a few tense minutes, two of the orcs broke away and moved to the sides of the cavern. They began preparing something--dragging stones, unrolling thick hides, adjusting strange-looking devices I could not identify.

I stepped forward cautiously.

"Shagrat," I said, "where are we? This doesn't look like a village."

He turned slowly to face us.

His red eyes flickered in the strange cave light, unreadable.

"You are in the heart of the Orc Domain," he said. "And now... you shall witness the greatest secret of my kind."