Page 16 of Bewitching the Orc Chief

Gus head-butted my knee as his purr kicked into overdrive. I scratched behind his ears, grateful for the familiar comfort.“Yeah, I know. But hey, maybe the next town will have better mice, huh?”

Taking a deep breath, I eased the door open and peeked out into the hallway. Darkness filled the main room, broken only by faint embers in the hearth. Perfect—fewer eyes to dodge on my way out of this cursed mountain. I beckoned to Gus, and we crept toward the exit.

“Going somewhere?”

I jumped, cursing as my hip caught the edge of a table. Osen’s low voice came from the shadows near the dying fire, where he sat in a high-backed chair. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, his usual grace rumpled by exhausted tension.

“Unholy hell.” I pressed a hand to my racing heart. “Were you sitting there in the dark all night, or is this a special morning surprise?”

“You didn’t answer my question.” His voice was rough, edged with... something. Anger? Hurt?

I pasted on my best fake smile. “Just thought I’d take in the sights. You know, enjoy the local scenery before the mob ruins it with their pitchforks.”

“Miranda.” The way he said my name sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. “You’re not going anywhere. Not until we talk about what you are.”

A bitter laugh escaped me. “What I am? Funny, I thought your shaman made that pretty clear. Dark witch. Corruption incarnate. Soul-stealing demon worshipper.” I sketched a mocking bow. “Take your pick.”

Gus settled at my feet, tail twitching in agitation. The tension crackled through the room like lightning before a storm.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” The raw hurt in Osen’s voice hit harder than anger would have. “About being a witch?”

“Gee, I wonder why?” I started to pace, but there was no outrunning this conversation. “Could it be the warm welcomeyour people showed when they found out? The absolutehospitalityof being threatened with chains?”

“You practiced dark magic.” He spat the words like poison. “Did you think that wouldn’t matter?”

“Of course it matters!” I threw my hands up in exasperation. “It always matters! That’s why I left, why I keep leaving, why I’ll probably spend the rest of my life leaving places the moment anyone gets close enough to see what I really am.”

The words echoed off the stone walls, leaving silence in their wake. Even Gus stopped moving, yellow eyes fixed on my face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Osen’s voice dropped lower, almost a growl, and his tusks flashed dangerously in the low light. “What are you running from?”

“It means this is my penance.” The fight drained out of me. I crossed my arms over my stomach, shoulders hunching around my ears. “For what I helped do. What I let happen.”

Osen leaned forward, forearms braced against his knees. The weight of his scrutiny made my skin prickle uncomfortably. I waited for him to speak, to demand answers I wasn’t prepared to give, but he remained silent. Watching. Waiting.

After a long pause, I took a shaky breath and kept going. “I used to practice white magic. Herbs. Potions and charms. Safe stuff. No demons, no sacrifices.”

One dark eyebrow lifted. “Until?”

“Until the Sisters found me.” The confession lodged in my throat like broken glass, but I forced it out, anyway. “I was young and hungry for knowledge. The Sisters of the Serpent promised to teach me everything—no limits, no restrictions.” I tried for a sarcastic laugh and failed miserably. “Turns out there’s always a price.”

Osen shifted forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. Still watching. Still listening.

“They noticed my talent right away. Pushed me harder, gave me more responsibility.” I sank into the armchair across from him, shoulders slumping. “I learned everything they threw at me—spells, rituals, the darker arts they usually kept hidden from initiates.”

My fingers traced the outline of the demon’s mark near my heart, hidden beneath my borrowed clothes. “The dark baptism was my reward. A chance to become a full Sister and grow my magic exponentially.”

Osen frowned. “Dark baptism?”

“A bargain with a demon.” My lips twisted. “You purify yourself for thirteen days, consuming only milk, raw herbs, and honey mixed with ash. Then, at midnight during the new moon, you make your sacrifice and summon your potential patron.”

Osen grunted and sat back in his seat. The dying embers cast strange shadows across his face, making his expression unreadable.

“The demon they—we—summoned…” I licked my lips, trying to find words that wouldn’t send him screaming for chains as soon as they left my mouth. “The Sisters of the Serpent sought knowledge, and so knowledge is what we offered to our patron in exchange for more.”

Gus leapt onto my lap, pushing his face against my hand until I stroked his ears. It settled something inside me—grounded me. Made it possible to confess the rest.

“We drained them.” Bile rose in my throat. “People with real gifts. Artists who could never create again. Musicians who forgot how to play. Scholars who lost decades of research in an instant. Each dark baptism powered by someone else’s stolen talent.”

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