“Have you heard of an orc named Deheter Quickhand?” I asked, raising a brow as I looked at him.

  Drackar squinted at me for a few seconds before letting out a short huff.

  “There was a minor orc warlord by that name. His following came close to one thousand warrior in his best days, but that was several years ago.”

  I glanced upward, wondering what sort of force did qualify as a “major” warlord in Drackar’s eyes.

  “It was him who supposedly kidnapped Ju,” I continued.

  Drackar’s brows rose. He tilted his head, giving me a slantwise look.

  “Supposedly?”

  I huffed and rolled my eyes. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t want to sound like I doubted Ju’s story. But still, something about it didn’t sit right with me. I just couldn’t put my finger on what exactly was off.

  It was late in the evening, and I was alone with Drackar in a heavily insulated room on the ground floor, theoretically discussing politics in my newly acquired orc kingdom.

  A pair of servants appeared at the open doorway, pausing just outside the protection field. They waited for my nod before entering. I gave it, and they hurried in, setting down a tablet with neatly arranged slices of smoked meat, two small glasses, and a bottle of some orcish concoction made from fermented plums and a few other... unidentifiable vegetables.

  They bowed and left the room the moment I gave a small flick of my fingers.

  Drackar picked up the flask with a chuckle, uncorked it, and took a sniff. His face lit up with a grin.

  “Old tzka! At least a decade aged. They say it helps with concentration…”

  I shook my head. Yeah, sure, because alcohol is great for focusing. But I didn’t voice the thought.

  Instead, as he poured the glasses, I asked,

  “Could an orc warlord operate inside Fiona’s duchy?”

  He stroked his white beard pensively, and his canines caught the light with a brief glint as he spoke.

  “As far as I know, his remaining holdings amounted to little more than a couple of small farms, enough to field maybe a couple dozen warriors. Still, a small band can move more easily through enemy territory. So, contrary to what one might reasonably expect, it’s entirely possible he did it. Especially if there was good money to be made, and he was desperate enough to take the gamble.”

  He raised his glass, and I took mine. We clinked them. He downed his in one gulp, then grabbed a slice of roasted meat. I followed his lead.

  “And capturing some elves would be reason enough?” I asked.

  The drink burned its way slowly down my throat, as if traveling in slow motion. The fatty slice of hot jerky acted—surprisingly—like a fire extinguisher, despite its spicy kick.

  He nodded slowly.

  “Elf slaves are expensive, rare and always in high demand, so yes, they’d be a valuable catch. But the risks of operating inside a hostile human kingdom are high. Which means the payoff would need to be significant enough to make the gamble worthwhile. Those elves must have been… very special.”

  “And is Deheter really strong enough to capture Ju?” I asked.

  Drackar shook his head and sighed.

  “I haven’t seen Lady Julietta fight, so I can’t speak to her combat abilities. That said, she does give the impression of someone capable of defending herself.”

  He paused, then added,

  “Deheter himself would rank around the level of one of my lieutenants. Not a major threat on his own, but not weak, either. The core of his forces are trolls from a nearby village, close to his farms. He’s not to be underestimated. And… he had the element of surprise on his side.”

  I sighed and reached for another slice of meat as Drackar refilled our glasses.

  “How would he even know she’d be there?” I asked. “And if he did manage to capture her, then why not use a portal and disappear? Why torture her?”

  He let out a huff and pointed at his glass, as if it were a point on a map.

  “I heard there was an elven enclave planning to move,” he said, tracing a slow circle around the rim with his finger. “They might have been his target. Lady Julietta could’ve simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  He paused, then added,

  “He probably tortured her to extract information about other potential targets. And to force her to open her inventory so he could loot it clean.”

  Drackar glanced up at me.

  “Chances are, he didn’t have the coin to buy a portal. His numbers were reduced, his resources likely stretched thin. Maybe he lost what little he had gambling or partying in Tortuga, like many warriors do.”

  “But then why allow her to send me a message?” I wondered.

  Drackar shrugged.

  “To buy time and avoid triggering a major search effort before he could get away with his prize.”

  I rested my chin in my hand, elbow propped on the table.

  “So you’re saying her story might actually hold water?” I said. “But then why did her message include a warning about K’hordock? And why did my divination point to her being somewhere near Uldaman?”

  “Maybe he intended to sell her to K’hordock. Or maybe he claimed to be working for him,” Drackar replied. “I did some digging of my own. There’s an old quest reward in the Kingdom’s archives, issued by K’hordock himself, offering one thousand gold for her capture. It was never withdrawn...”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  He leaned back slightly.

  “Maybe they just forgot about it after so many years... It could be that Deheter had searched the Kingdom's archive and came across it.”

  He took a small sip from his glass, then raised his head to look at me.

  “Who performed the divination? Was it old Lorach? Is he still at court?”

  I nodded, and he gave a noncommittal shrug. I picked up another slice of jerky and chewed thoughtfully. The texture was just right, firm but not tough, with a strong, satisfying flavor that seemed to call for another drink. The meat and the drink went oddly well together.

  “Divination is a tricky business,” Drackar said. “Not an exact science. Results can be influenced by all kinds of things like the diviner’s mood, memory, fears, or dreams. True divination is the art of seeing through that chaos. Sometimes, it works surprisingly well. But old Lorach… might simply be too old.”

  He raised his gaze again.

  “Divination doesn’t prove anything. You could say it’s like the gods either favor you, or they’re making fun of you.”

  *

  We talked for a while longer, me trying to grasp more about the orc kingdom and what actions I was expected to take, until my brain just gave up.

  This damn queen job is not for me! My mind simply refused to cooperate.

  I retreated to my rooms, hoping to get some rest. I undressed and washed, moving like an automaton, but once I finally crawled into bed, sleep refused to come.

  Thoughts, mostly nonsensical garbage, chased each other through my head as I tossed and turned, unable to find peace.

  It was late in the night when I heard the soft padding of bare feet approach the door that separated our rooms. Then, quietly, the door opened.

  “I can’t sleep,” she said in a low voice.

  I turned to look at the ghostly figure framed in the dim light, her silk pajamas fluttering gently around her lithe limbs in the night breeze.

  “Welcome to the club,” I replied, lifting the edge of the blanket. “Come here.”

  She crossed the room in swift, quiet steps and giggled softly, clearly satisfied as she slipped nimbly into my embrace. I pulled the blanket over us.

  “Hold me tight, please,” she whispered.

  And I did.

  It felt good to have her in my arms, to feel her magic close, steady and familiar. The storm in my head finally began to settle, my breathing slowing, becoming calm and even.

  After a while, just when I thought she’d drifted off, she spoke.

  “It’s good to be in your arms,” she murmured. “I finally feel safe.”

  I answered by holding her tighter. She let out a soft chuckle.

  “I never asked you,” she said. “Do you like boys or girls?”

  I coughed and blinked, surprised by the question. She turned her lovely face to glance at me over her shoulder, eyes glinting with something between curiosity and mischief.

  “Do you like me?” she asked, her lashes fluttering briefly.

  For a moment, I was lost in her gaze, it felt like staring into a dense, enchanted jungle, full of strange, magical flora.

  I drew a deep breath.

  “Do I really still need to answer that?”

  She turned back around and nestled even closer.

  “You never did more than cuddle,” she said with a small shrug.

  I hesitated.

  “Cuddling is good. I like cuddling,” I replied at last.

  She chuckled again and reached for my hand, weaving her fingers into mine. Her warm, delicate body pressed gently against me.

  “Then let’s cuddle,” she whispered, and kissed my hand.

  She fell silent for a while before speaking again.

  “You know, we’ve been invited to the court in Uldaman,” she said. “Since they rescued me, it would be improper to refuse…”

  I sighed and shook my head.

  “Not now. Maybe later. I need to take care of Tina first. You’ve heard about her, right?”

  She turned her head and gave me a pointed look.

  “Have you ever thought of simply asking?”

  “Asking? Asking whom? What do you mean?” I asked, frowning.

  “By all the gods, Lores! You’re a queen. I’m sure there’s some diplomatic route we could take to secure Tina’s release. It’s just a matter of resources. If the orc kingdom doesn’t have ties with those blasted dwarves, the humans probably do. Offer them minerals or something else they want. That might be enough.”

  I drew a deep breath.

  “But we don’t have much time…” I said quietly.

  “Then let’s talk to the baron first thing tomorrow morning. He can contact the court. By noon, we should already have an answer!”

  I blinked, surprised. Could it really be that simple? Why didn’t I think of that?

  With a satisfied giggle, she pressed herself closer, capturing my left arm completely.

  “If we go to Uldaman,” she murmured, “what would I be to you? How would you present me there?”

  I sighed. So that’s what this was about?

  “You didn’t ask so many questions when we went to Fiona’s party!”

  “Yes, but this is different. Now you’re a queen. And we’ll be visiting other royals!”

  I shrugged.

  “So? We’ll do the same!”

  She laughed.

  *

  I’d slept well, deep and undisturbed, but when I woke, I felt stiff and a little drowsy. Carefully, I began freeing my limbs from her embrace, stifled a yawn… and then sneezed.

  Great. My nose was running. Drats, did I catch a cold?

  But when I wiped it, black snot came out. I stared at it, and then noticed the blotch on her pajama top.

  Oh no. I'd sneezed on her in my sleep!

  Cringe and awkward.

  I did my best to clean it up without waking her and then hurried off to the toilet to wash and hopefully get myself together.

  I sneezed a couple more times, but then thankfully it stopped.