Page 23 of Hostile Holiday

Her father looked deflated. “It was only a chance that anyone at the party would catch. They swore that she and the child would be taken care of.”

“I was until I was no longer a child. I looked enough like a family member to pass, but Grandfather kept trying to kill Mom because he found it funny. The moment I turned fifteen, the protection wore off. He picked her up and threw her down the stairs.”

She shrugged. “What do you expect of ogres?”

The room froze, and her mother’s family looked guilty.

Olmin cleared his throat. “What?”

“The Lerothians are ogres. Ogre warlocks. They use alcohol to focus and magic to build their wealth. They named my older brother Grendel, for pity’s sake.”

Olmin growled. “Ogres aren’t allowed magic.”

“Tell that to them. They have found a way around it. They use whiskey as a focal point and gather magic into it, and then they drink it.” She shrugged. “They used to drink my blood. They added it to the whiskey.”

Gasps filled the room.

Hunter held her hand. “When did it stop?”

“When Mother was dead. I left, and my brother cursed me, but he couldn’t drink from me after that. My blood poisoned him.” She smiled slowly. “Of course, now that the curse is gone, I think I can have some fun with him.”

Hunter looked at her. “I think you could, but you can’t go back to them until the original moments have passed.”

“Oh, so I can crash the party on Saturday?”

He smiled. “Yes, Orla, you can.”

“Oh, cool. Pointy end goes in the opponent, and don’t get hit in the head.”

Maven blinked. “What?”

“That was the instruction I was given, though hitting guys in the balls with the handle of my sword works as well.” She shrugged. “So does jumping on them.”

The gathered folk stared at her.

Hunter chuckled. “She went through eighteen bouts in the arena before—”

“He knocked me flat and hauled me off.” She grimaced.

“I was going to say before I realized she was not being taken care of at my home. She did get a few shots in. I am definitely glad that she didn’t go for the groin.”

Orla smiled. “Don’t flirt.”

Argo snorted with laughter.

Her mother’s side was appalled, and Orla looked at them. “I am sorry. I grew up steeped in that casual brutality, and I have lived with my mother’s loss for years. You are hearing the details for the first time.”

The older woman, who looked achingly like her mother had twenty years ago, wiped the tears from her eyes. “We knew it was dangerous to make the match, but they offered so much bride price, and she was agreeable, so we let her go. She had foresight, so we thought it was fine.”

The younger woman, who looked so much like her mother it hurt, said, “Amember was always headstrong, but I never thought she would end that way.”

Orla looked at her aunt, and the last bit of the puzzle fell. “Oh. That’s why. You were the original target for them, but you pushed your sister into it. Convincing is your magic.”

Her grandmother jolted. “How do you know that?”

“Mom used to say she didn’t know why she had agreed. She would cuddle me and tell me that I was the only thing she didn’t regret. What I am guessing is my aunt has guilt in her eyes when talking about my mother ending that way.”

The woman licked her lips and stood up, powering up a portal. Orla reached out and took the magic.

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