Through the windows I could see the yard washed in bright light, the suns beating almost straight down. It was midday, most likely, probably that's why I was feeling so hot.

  A bead of sweat slid down my temple; I wiped it away.

  I was slowly returning to myself and felt a strange blend of confusion and shame, as if I had exposed something private before an audience. The silence in the room was thick. Twenty people at least had witnessed the whole exchange.

  My heart hammered in my chest as I stood frozen, staring at the empty space where the ambassador had been moments before. A giddy excitement rushed through me, like a child’s first rush in an amusement park, which only deepened my confusion.

  I tried to make sense of what had just happened. That glance I gave him… it wasn’t a succubus glance. A succubus’s charm subdues, overwhelms with desire, binds through craving. The ambassador hadn’t looked enslaved, he looked… inspired. Like some knight stirred by devotion to a damsel in distress. As if he felt the need to prove himself worthy.

  What the fuck just happened?

  I closed my eyes and tried to process things rationally. Another couple of sweat beads rolled down my temples and I wiped them away.

  Ever since arriving here, it had been one scheme after another, those Xsoha, the mine disaster, the mercenary attack, and now the elves trying to starve my people. And in the middle of all this turmoil, what was I doing? Glancing languorously at an ambassador and getting giddy about it.

  I drew in a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down.

  Seriously… what’s wrong with me? I thought.

  I sighed.

  Well, whatever that glance was, it clearly had the desired effect. So calm down, Lores.

  I counted to five. Took another breath. Counted to five again, then exhaled slowly. Take your time, Lores. I kept my eyes closed, focusing inward as my heartbeat slowly steadied from frantic drumming to something approaching normal.

  “My Queen… did they do that!?” a deep orcish bass broke the silence.

  I think that was Taxom. I recognized three of the orcs from old K’Hordock’s council: Taxom, Gorgor, and Warhawk—two XXXL-sized warriors and that thin old warlock.

  I opened my eyes and turned toward the speaker. Taxom had risen, leaning forward with both arms braced on the table, his beautifully sculpted muscles shifting beneath his dark green skin. He wore only a sleeveless jacket, and stars above, those muscles moved like they had lives of their own.

  My heartbeat, which had only just settled, immediately began accelerating again.

  I forced the feeling back—damn hormones—but my gaze refused to leave his biceps.

  I shook my head hard. No. I would not let my body take control. With effort, I lifted my eyes to his face. Once our gazes locked, his small red orc eyes staring straight into mine, my brain finally kicked back into gear.

  This was not the conversation I wanted to be having right now. I stepped closer to their table.

  “There must be a reason why you all came here today, isn’t there?” I asked.

  Surprisingly, the answer came from a different table on the right. Another orc, this one small and rather unimposing, had risen to his feet.

  “I dare say, my Queen, that I am the reason.”

  I turned toward him. He stood straight, head bowed like a schoolboy forced to stand before the class.

  “Lord Hjatwick?” I said surprised, as I haven't noticed him before.

  “I am honored, my Queen,” he replied with a stiff bow.

  I sighed. I almost called him Lord Moneybag. I raised a brow instead.

  “I report, my Queen, that I have not approved the transactions from the treasury to the three lords.”

  I blinked.

  “And why is that, Lord Hjatwick?” I asked.

  “My Queen, I understand that you decided to buy all the slaves from the last raid. I have blocked the money until the costs are clarified, but—”

  “You can’t block my money!” Gorgor shot to his feet, brows furrowing so deeply it looked painful. “The army will revolt if we don’t pay!”

  I tilted my head, genuinely surprised at Lord Hjatwick. That had been very sensible of him, especially since I hadn’t told him anything about the slave market, and yet he’d already set aside money for it… while I had completely forgotten.

  Drats! How could I forget? Those were lives ruined and dragged into despair, and I had simply—forgotten?

  What was wrong with me?

  Why had he reserved that money? Was it just to curry favor? Or had he guessed why I wanted to buy them?

  While I stood there, still processing that, at least five orcs started shouting over one another, each insisting that their reason for needing the money was more important. I raised my hand, and they fell silent once more.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  With a sigh, I conjured myself a chair—larger than any other chair in the room—and sat. Then I summoned a table as well, draped in a red tablecloth. My maids understood immediately and hurried over with coffee and biscuits, arranging them neatly before me.

  I turned back to the room.

  “You may all sit,” I said, then fixed my gaze on Lord Moneybag. “What sums are we talking about?”

  He glanced uneasily at the others, especially the humans present, before turning back to me.

  “Is it… acceptable to speak openly, my Queen?”

  I nodded.

  “There are 1,039 gold in the treasury,” he said. “The Marquis of the South requires 983. The general of the Ninth Army, 765. The Khan of the West, 654. And there are additional claims amounting to 2,436.”

  I blinked, a bit unnerved at him using their titles but at least I knew it concerned those three orcs. Was I expected to learn their titles too?

  I sighed. The real issue was: how was this damn thing supposed to function?

  “These are yearly payouts?”

  He shook his head.

  “No, my Queen. This money must be paid this very Kargath.”

  “What are the incomes? When will money actually come in?” I asked.

  “We expect roughly two hundred and fifty gold in spoils from the raid, but that will come after the slave fair,” he said. “And perhaps five to seven hundred gold from grain sales on the royal domains.”

  I shook my head. Spoils from the raid? That was actually listed as income for the treasury? I sighed. In any case, that would never cover the expenses. Maybe we’d have to raise taxes.

  “And taxes? How much do they bring in?” I asked.

  Hjatwick stared at me, horrified.

  “Taxes? There are no taxes!” he said.

  And so began my crash course in orc-kingdom finances.

  Apparently, every orc citizen - and their slaves too - was obligated to work one day in twenty for the kingdom. That was the only “tax” the crown received.

  Most fulfilled their duty by working a full year once they turned twenty, right after the coming-of-age ceremony. Many even did two years straight. And if an orc had served two years, they owed nothing more to the crown for the rest of their lives.

  Which, realistically, wasn’t long for most—battlefields tended to cut careers short before them breaking even at sixty. Except for the rare high-level monsters, of course, though every orc apparently believed he was destined to be one.

  Okay… but that didn’t seem to generate any actual money.

  “But wait,” I said, frowning, “if they’re enrolled in the army for free, why am I still paying?”

  “That’s not their salary, my Queen,” Warhawk explained. “That’s for housing and feeding the troops. They pay for their own weapons—but making them pay for food would be... unfair.”

  “Uh. Oh. Okay…” I mumbled, conceding defeat.

  Maybe I should introduce taxes...

  Then again, that was probably the fastest way to spark a revolt.

  “Queen Lores,” Tom said—clearly trying to imitate the orcs’ way of addressing me—“you just conjured that chair and table. Can’t you simply conjure the gold the same way?”

  “Blasphemy!” Taxom roared. “We can’t pay them with mage’s gold!”

  “That’s punishable by death!” Warhawk added, scandalized.

  “Please forgive this young man,” Alice said quickly. “He doesn’t know that conjured gold - like any conjured object - disappears after a few days.”

  “Who can be that stupid?” Gorgor laughed, shaking his head. Then he turned to look at Tom, who was opening his mouth to protest—

  I knew I could make things stable much longer, but that was probably not a conversation we wanted to have now. I made him a sign to keep quiet.

  I turned toward Lord Moneybag.

  “You did well to reserve the money for the slave market. When will it be held?”

  “Tomorrow, my Queen,” he replied, rising to his feet.

  Oh drats! I must not forget to send someone to buy the slaves.

  “My Queen, are you certain we need to buy them?” Warhawk asked hesitatingly.

  I nodded.

  Taxom shook his head in disapproval.

  “Buying slaves may be an investment, and might bring profit in the future, but if we do not feed the troops now…”

  “Do you need all that money at once?” I asked, cutting him short.

  Warhawk shrugged heavily.

  “These are the regular sums, my Queen for long-term contracts. Most of this is payment for food already delivered. We can postpone some house repairs and delay a few smaller payments, but the bulk must be paid now. Merchants won’t deliver if we default, they must pay their suppliers as well.”

  I sighed.

  “What can we do? Does any of you have any solutions?”

  Taxom huffed, lifted his hands in the air, and stood up again.

  “Of course, my Queen!”

  He cast a meaningful glance at the humans.

  “May I speak openly?”

  I gave him a small nod. Why are they all still asking me that?

  His arms spread wide as a devilishly pleased smile crept across his face.

  “War! And right now, war with the elves is the proper solution.” He shrugged, “They wronged us, so they pay. They’re rich, they have gold and precious things, and elf slaves sell well. It’s simple and straightforward. They brought it on themselves.”

  The other orcs nodded appreciatively.

  I sighed and shook my head. There had to be a different solution.

  My hands felt cold. A small shiver ran across my shoulders, and I rubbed my palms together. My gaze drifted toward the fireplace; for a heartbeat I almost ordered someone to light it—

  Then I stopped.

  It was summer.

  Why was I shivering?