Page 24 of Bewitching the Orc Chief

Miranda went utterly still beside me, her face draining of all color. Gus’s growl deepened, the sound vibrating through the very ground beneath our feet.

Alris’s lips curled into a triumphant sneer as he raised a hand, silencing the murmurs of the crowd. “Sisters,” he intoned, his voice carrying across the clearing. “I believe I’ve found the traitor you seek.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

MIRANDA

My blood turned to ice as I stared at the faces of my former sisters. Maura clasped her blackened fingertips at her waist, a cruel smile twisting her lips. Beside her, Lisabet’s silver-ringed eyes fixed on me with predatory focus. My old mentor’s lips curved into a knowing smile that promised retribution for my betrayal. Sylas toyed with the pouch at her waist—a pouch I knew contained all manner of tricks to immobilize the enforcer’s prey.

Fuck. Fuck fuckfuck.

I wanted to run. To disappear into the shadows and never look back. I should have left as soon as I healed Torain, but I’d been too stupid, too caught up in hope and Osen, that I’d ignored the danger always nipping at my heels.

Magic that powerful left traces, echoes that those who knew what to look for could track. And who knew my magical signature better than the women who’d guided me through my dark baptism?

My feet remained rooted to the spot, terror holding me in place as effectively as any binding spell.

Gus pressed hard against my leg, fur standing on end. His growl vibrated through my bones, a warning that made severalorcs step back. Smart of them. My familiar might look like a house cat, but he was far more dangerous than his size suggested.

“Shaman Alris speaks true.” Maura’s voice carried across the crowd. She dismissed Gus with a patronizing look and stepped forward. “We’ve tracked the stench of dark magic across many miles. A trail of corruption led us here.”

My hands curled into fists. Of course, she’d play into their fears. The Sisters excelled at twisting truth into weapons.

“Indeed.” Alris gripped his staff tighter, knuckles white. “This… woman threatens everything we hold sacred.”

“The clan must be protected,” Lisabet added, her silver eyes never leaving mine. “We can help cleanse her. Save her from what she’s become.”

Cleanse. The word sent shivers down my spine. I knew exactly what that entailed—ripping the demon’s mark from my body. Only it was part of me now, had been since the ritual. Taking it now would strip all the knowledge I’d gained. All the memories. Everything that made meme? Gone, leaving behind an empty husk.

“You will do no such thing.” Osen’s voice rang with authority—the chief’s voice, meant to be obeyed. He moved in front of me, shoulders squared and chin lifted in challenge.

The clan went still. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

I should have felt relief at his defense. Instead, dread pooled in my gut. This was exactly what I’d feared—Osen putting himself in danger for my sake. I couldn’t bear the thought of him suffering because of me.

Alris’s lip curled in a sneer. “And here we see the weakness of Torgan’s line laid bare. Your father at least had the sense to know we cannot suffer a witch to live in Grimstone.”

“Mind your tongue, shaman,” Osen growled.

“A father who would be ashamed to see his son so easily bewitched.” Alris’s gaze swept over the gathered clan. “Look at how she’s clouded his mind! How she endangers us all with her foul magic!”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. I caught flashes of fear, anger, and—worse—agreement in the eyes around us. This was a powder keg ready to explode, and Alris was holding the match.

“Enough!” A new voice rang out, and my heart sank as Coth pushed his way to the front. “It’s clear Osen is unfit to lead. The clan needs a chief who will put our safety first.”

The stomach dropped as the pieces clicked into place. This wasn’t just about me. This was a coup, carefully orchestrated to remove Osen from power. And I was the perfect excuse.

My eyes darted to Galan, expecting to see triumph. Instead, I caught a flicker of doubt cross his face. He looked between his father and Osen, brow furrowed in confusion.

“I, Coth Rockflaw, challenge Osen Axebreaker for leadership of the Sombra clan!” Coth’s voice boomed across the clearing. “Let the gods decide who is worthy to lead us!”

Time seemed to slow as I weighed my options. I could surrender, try to spare Osen and his people from the Sisters’ wrath. But I knew my former coven—they wouldn’t stop with just me. They’d drain every gift, every talent from the clan until nothing remained but shells.

I could run, using my magic to clear a path. But that would leave Osen to face both Coth’s challenge and whatever scheme Alris had planned.

The Sisters began to move, spreading out in a loose circle. I tracked their movements, my focus torn between their every twitch and the disaster unfolding between Osen and Coth.

“I accept your challenge.”

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