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eyes.
    “Are you sure, sir? We’ve planned on accepting the hospitality of the locals, not subjecting the lady to sleeping out in the open.”
    “It’s fine, Kayvan,” Jaina spoke up. “I’m not a fragile little figurine.”
    Arthas’s smile widened into a grin.
    He hoped she’d feel that way in a few hours.

    While the servants set up camp, Arthas and Jaina went exploring. They scrambled up a hill that gave them an unparalleled view. To the west, they could see the little farming community of Ambermill and even the distant spires of Baron Silverlaine’s keep. To the east, they could almost make out Dalaran itself, and more clearly, the internment camp to its south. Since the end of the Second War, the orcs had been rounded up and placed into these camps. It was more merciful than simply slaughtering them on sight, Terenas had explained to Arthas. And besides, the orcs seemed to be suffering from a strange malaise. Most of the time when humans stumbled upon them, or hunted them, they fought only halfheartedly and went into internment peacefully. There were several camps just like this one.
    They had a rustic meal of roasted rabbit on a spit and retired shortly after dark. Once he was assured that everyone was asleep, Arthas threw a tunic over his breeches and quickly tugged on his boots. As an afterthought, he took one of his daggers and fastened it to his belt, then crept over to Jaina.
    “Jaina,” he whispered, “wake up.”
    She awoke in silence and unafraid, her eyes glinting in the moonlight. He squatted back as she sat up, putting a finger to his lips. She spoke in a whisper. “Arthas? Is something wrong?”
    He grinned. “You up for an adventure?”
    She tilted her head. “What sort of an adventure?”
    “Trust me.”
    Jaina looked at him for a moment, then nodded. “All right.”
    She, like all of them, had gone to sleep mostly dressed and simply needed to pull on her boots and cloak. She rose, made a halfhearted attempt to comb her fingers through her blond hair, and nodded.
    Jaina followed him as they ascended the same ridge they had explored earlier that day. The climb was more challenging at night, but the moonlight was quite bright and their feet did not slip.
    “There’s our destination,” he said, pointing.
    Jaina gulped. “The internment camp?”
    “Have you ever seen one up close?”
    “No, and I don’t want to.”
    He frowned, disappointed. “Come on, Jaina. It’s our one chance to get a good look at an orc. Aren’t you curious?”
    Her face was hard to read in the moonlight, her eyes dark pools of shadow. “I—they killed Derek. My older brother.”
    “One of them killed Varian’s father, too. They’ve killed a lot of people, and that’s why they’re in these camps. It’s the best place for them. A lot of people don’t like the fact that my father is raising taxes to pay for the camps, but—come on and judge for yourself. I missed a chance to get a good look at Doomhammer when he was in the Undercity. I don’t want to miss a chance to see one now.”
    She was silent, and at last he sighed. “All right, I’ll take you back.”
    “No,” she said, surprising him. “Let’s go.”
    Quietly they made their descent. “All right,” Arthas whispered. “When we were up here earlier, I made note of their patrols. It doesn’t look like they’re much different at night, except maybe even more infrequent. With the orcs not having much spirit left in them, I guess the guards think that the chances of escape aren’t that likely.” He smiled at her reassuringly. “Which works out well for us. Other than patrols, someone is always stationed in those two watchtowers. They’re the ones we have to be most careful of, but hopefully they’ll be looking for any disturbance to come from the front rather than behind, since the camp backs up against a sheer wall face. Now, let this fellow here complete his circuit, and we should have ample time to get close to that wall right