HENRIA

I tug my dress into place once more. Luisa's ill-fitting clothing is more uncomfortable than I anticipated, or maybe it's just my nerves that are making it hard for me to breathe.

By now Luisa is probably awake and aware of what I've done. Everyone at the palace will be aware of my deception if they aren't already, but it's too late for anyone to stop me. I feel a brief pang of guilt imagining Luisa's confusion, Uncle Renfred's rage...but I force the thoughts away.

I made my choice. Slipping Luisa that sleeping powder was the right thing to do. I'm protecting her and saving myself, too. She'll forgive me. I know she will.

I give the dress one more sharp tug before I sigh and study my companions. My fellow Tributes are stoic and silent, their eyes trained on the carriage floor.

My mouth quirks into a bitter smile; my uncle would be proud to see how dutifully they're carrying out their sacrifice. I can't blame them for accepting their fates, but my own chest thrums with a strange excitement as I turn my gaze back to the window.

We're approaching the mountains now. I've only ever seen them from a distance—I've rarely been permitted beyond the palace walls—and up close, they're even more majestic and daunting than I expected.

And soon they'll be your home.

The thought sends a thrill down my spine and I remind myself to stay focused. It shouldn't be too hard to escape. The caravan of carriages is guarded, of course, but that's for our protection. I highly doubt any of the guards will expect one of the meek women they're supervising to make a break for it in the middle of the wilderness.

I suddenly catch a glimpse of a large bird diving to the cliff below and gasp in shock as it pulls up at the last moment, screeching triumphantly.

"Hush," one of the women scolds me.

I sit back, looking at the others once more. "Look! There's a spectacular bird just over—"

"That isn't important," another woman snaps, scowling. "You should be focusing on your training. What you were taught. Soon you'll have to put it to use."

Marrying an orc, she means. I try not to shudder as I watch the bird soar off into the distance. Everyone knows orcs are uncivilized beasts. They're ugly, smelly, brutal. Cruel to the human women sent to them as part of the treaty. Of course the Tributes are tense.

I'd be going out of my mind if I didn't plan to escape at the first opportunity.

My gaze drifts to the window once more and my chest expands at the sight of the vast, untamed horizon. The Orc Kingdom is out there, past this mountain range. It's such a mystery. Maybe orcs really do reside in swamps and eat their own young.

Or maybe that's just something made up to scare young maidens into behaving.

I allow myself a small smirk as I watch the approaching mountains. One thing is for sure: I'll be long gone before anyone can hand me over to an orc to find out.

***

Hours pass before the winding procession of carriages reaches the crest of the mountains. Hours in the cramped, stuffy carriage, sitting beside silent women, wondering if I've done the right thing. But when our carriage finally reaches the peak and I look out the window to see the valley spreading below us, I'm certain it's all been worth it.

This time, when I gasp, the others don't even shush me. They, too, are captured by the majesty outside the window.

If this is the Orc Kingdom...well, maybe it's no surprise that no one has ever returned.

Because the Orc Kingdom is not a swamp, nor is it filled with dark and dank caves. It's a lush, green valley, pristine, nestled between silver mountains that rise to dizzying, snowy peaks.

Our carriage suddenly comes to a halt, jostling its occupants.

"Sorry, ladies." One of the human guards taps on the roof of the carriage. "The horses need a rest."

One of the women scoffs, as if she can't believe the audacity of the exhausted horses. But another woman, one of the younger ones with pretty blonde hair, leans toward the window.

"Would it be okay if we step out to stretch our legs?"

I clamp my mouth shut, preventing even the tiniest gasp of excitement from escaping my lips. Outside the carriage. Outside, where I could slip away, unseen, from everything I've left behind and everything waiting ahead for me.

"Sure. That shouldn't be a problem." The guard unlocks the carriage door and swings it open, letting in a rush of crisp, fresh breeze. The air smells like freedom. "Just make sure you stick close to the caravan. There could be wild orcs in the area, and we don't want to lose any of you."

The woman beside me shivers in fear, but I'm already on my feet clutching Luisa's small bag, intent on being one of the first out of the carriage.

The day is beautiful, and not just because I'm so close to my escape. The sun is high and warm, but not hot. There's a gentle wind that carries with it the sweet scents of flowers I've never even heard of before, let alone seen. It seems like a sign, to me. Like nature itself is whispering, yes. This is your chance. Don't squander it.

I put on a show of taking some steps to loosen my stiff legs. But really, I'm watching the guards as they tend to the horses. The road here is narrow, and in front of me stretches a forest of deciduous trees, their dark trunks tall and thick.

I look over my shoulder. No one is watching me. And it turns out it's easy to escape. Just a step, followed by another, then another, until I'm among the trees, hidden from the carriage by their wide trunks and gnarled branches.

I run.

Maybe they hadn't noticed me slipping away, but the guards will definitely realize I'm missing as soon as they try to get all the women back on board the carriage. I have a limited amount of time to get as far away as fast as I can before an alarm is raised.

The forest floor is craggy, full of pits, twisted roots, and large rocks that rise out of the ground. It's like nothing I've seen before, and I find my breath heaving in my chest as I climb over another rock in my path. In my earlier plans, I'd hoped to steal one of the carriage horses, but now I know that would've been pointless.

No horse could traverse this terrain.

I slide down the other side of the rock and pause to catch my breath, my heart hammering triumphantly in my chest. I've done it. I'm finally free!

Something heavy and warm crashes onto my shoulder.

"Where do you think you're going?" The voice is deep. It reminds me of granite, and the tone settles into the pit of my stomach, causing a chill to run along my spine.

I look behind me, then up, and up some more. Because it's not one of the guards from the carriage who's found me. It's not a man at all.

It's an orc.

He's magnificent.

It's my first unbidden thought as I take him in. He's unnaturally tall, even among these trees. Taller even than my uncle's Captain of the Guard, a man whose stature reaches well over six and a half feet. This orc would tower over him. And the muscles that ripple through his arms and across his broad chest make me understand, in a way I haven't before, why our kingdom is unwilling to risk conflict with the orcs.

The orc's skin is green, of course. But I expected something swampy, or sickly. This green is like the forest. Like the canopy above our heads. It's lush. Beautiful, even. His black hair is long and pulled back from his face with a simple leather tie. A strand of it rests against his cheek as he looks down at me, the hint of his white tusks peeking out from his lips.

For a moment I'm frozen, transfixed by the sheer power radiating from the orc's hulking frame.

But only for a moment.

No. My exhale is practically a shudder. NO! I'm so close! My freedom is here, right in front of me, and now this orc is trying to ruin it all? A lifetime of frustration rises in my chest, leaving no room for any other emotions.

I won't let him stop me. I can't.

I step away, shoving his hand off my shoulder. His eyes flash in surprise, and I can't help but notice they're green, too, like emeralds.

"Where I'm going is none of your concern." My words are practically a hiss, and I'm proud that my voice doesn't shake in fear or anger.

He stares at me, seemingly taken aback. But then his eyes narrow and he takes a step closer, blocking out the sun as he looms over me. My breath hitches and I shrink back, suddenly very aware that this orc could overpower me in less time than it would take to blink.

He throws his head back and laughs.

I'm caught off guard. By his response, but also by the laugh itself. It's warm and seems genuinely full of mirth. I wouldn't have expected the sound from such a hulking creature.

And then, before I can dart away, one of the orc's enormous hands wraps around my waist and he tosses me unceremoniously over his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" I splutter, flustered at the shocking intimacy of being pressed against the orc's naked chest.

I can feel the muscles moving under his smooth skin, smell his scent: piney, metallic. Utterly unfamiliar but strangely alluring. Something flips in my stomach as the orc turns his head to meet my eyes and I wonder if I'm in shock.

"This is the safest way to return you to your caravan." His voice is still deep, but there's a new lightness that sounds almost like amusement.

I think briefly about struggling, kicking, slapping, using anything and everything I can to get him to release me from his iron grasp. But then he effortlessly leaps the rock I had struggled to climb in one smooth bound and I know I am well and truly caught. There is nothing I can do against him to force him to let me go.

I'm utterly at his mercy.

It takes him no time at all to return me to the caravan. He's surprisingly gentle as he sets me down, ignoring the wide eyes and shocked expressions of the guards and Tributes.

He gives me a lingering look I can't decipher, his gaze so intense that I almost look away. But I refuse to give him the satisfaction, stubbornly raising my chin.

"Yes?" I can't help the peevishness in my voice. I know I'm being reckless, that this orc could kill me in an instant, but right now I can't bring myself to care. I had been closer to freedom than I'd ever been in my entire life and he had ruined it.

An odd expression crosses his face. "May the gods be with you at the Claiming." He strides off, disappearing into the woods.

The stunned guards hustle me back into the carriage and then we're off once more. I'm left numb, reeling from my failure. All I can think about is the emerald green of his eyes, and what he said to me.

What is the Claiming?

***

It doesn't take us as long to weave back down the mountains as it had to climb, so when we reach our destination, I'm not prepared. Some of the caravan breaks off, traveling deeper into the Orc Kingdom, but it seems this is the final stop for our carriage.

The guards usher us outside onto a field that has clearly been decorated for some sort of festival. There are garlands of flowers, oversized tables and chairs, even what seems to be a small stage. And of course, there are orcs everywhere.

Most of them are just as large as the one in the forest, though these seem to be even less clothed than he was. One of the women beside me gasps in shock. My own cheeks burn at the sight of two orcs striding up to the carriage wearing nothing but leather straps to cover their maleness. They each take a cask of wine from the carriage, brought with us as tithe, and lift them onto their shoulders as if they weigh nothing more than a sack of grain.

As they pass by me again, I realize that the leather isn't the only thing they're wearing. They each have a necklace with a large pendant. The necklaces themselves are gold, sparkling in the light, and the pendants are red and blue. The gemstones are bigger than any ruby or sapphire in the royal collection.

I study other orcs, fascinated despite myself, spotting more jewelry on their bodies and in their hair. Gold and silver. Gems and crystals. And a few precious stones that I've never seen before. There's not a single orc unadorned.

But a more pressing realization crosses my mind as I take in the surreal sight before me: single orc here in this field is a male.

I knew, of course, that these women, that Luisa, were to become the wives of orcs. But it had never occurred to me what that really meant until now.

Orc wives. There are no female orcs.

Breeding stock. Oh gods. We're meant to be breeding stock.

This knowledge washes over me, and my skin goes cold until I'm forced to close my eyes and take a deep breath. You're fine, Henria. You're going to escape anyway. It doesn't matter.

These words refocus me, and I'm able to regain my composure. I study the orcs, looking past their muscular bodies and dazzling gems to try and spot the orc with the mesmerizing eyes who snatched me from the forest, but he doesn't seem to be here.

A strange feeling settles in my stomach. Relief? Disappointment?

I frown, shaking off the odd thought. Focus, Henria. You can't afford to lose your cool now.

An orc stalks over to our group of women and gruffly tells us to move to the stage and stand in a line. We do as he says, as it's clear the guards have washed their hands of us now that we've been delivered. The human guards get back into the carriages and drive away. The last of our connection to the Human Kingdom is now gone.

The orcs gather in a horde before us, staring at us on the stage, talking, laughing, pointing at us. I can't help but feel like I'm nothing more than livestock at an auction.

Suddenly there's a commotion at the back of the gathering and the group parts, revealing an orc who begins to make his way to the stage. The crowd cheers wildly, roaring out a name.

"Rokhar! King Rokhar!"

King. Even the word causes bile to rise in my throat, thinking of my uncle back home on his throne. The orcs seem to have their own mockery of human civilization, complete with a savage king. As if they could possibly understand the meaning behind the word and the weight it carries.

Rokhar strides his way to the front of the group and then stops, looking at the Tributes.

His eyes meet mine and my breath catches. The thought comes unbidden once more. Emeralds.

It's him. The orc from the forest. Not just any orc.

The orc king.