Page 28 of Agor the Merciless
Zoe crawled to the center of the bed, clutching the clay jar to her chest. Her hands shook as she pressed it between her knees to steady it and twist the lid. The top came loose, and the familiar scent drifted up, fresh and earthy. She couldn’t say what it was, but her body recognized it immediately. She was about to dip two fingers in it when a voice stopped her.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Zoe looked up. A slender figure stood at the entrance, having pulled the curtain aside. Lyra the Mage stepped into the chamber, her blue robes brushing the stone floor.
“That mixture is not meant to be used without supervision.”
“Get out.” Zoe hunched over the jar, protecting it with her body. “This doesn’t concern you.”
“It concerns the whole horde when the captain’s mate steals from him.” Lyra moved closer.
“I didn’t steal anything. It’s mine, too.”
Zoe tried to scoop some cream onto her fingers, but Lyra was suddenly beside her, kneeling on the edge of the furs. The mage reached out and took the jar from Zoe. Zoe didn’t fight her. She wanted to, but she didn’t have it in her anymore. Her strength drained away at the female orc’s accidental touch as she pried the jar from her hands.
“Please,” she whispered. “I need it.”
Lyra set the jar aside and examined Zoe’s face. She touched Zoe’s forehead, then checked her pulse at the wrist.
“Your skin is hot. Your heart beats too fast.”
Tears formed in Zoe’s eyes as shame replaced the desperate need. She tried to turn away, but Lyra held her wrist firmly.
“The salve was never meant for humans,” Lyra said. “It contains magic developed for orc females.”
Zoe shook her head. “It helps me. It takes away the pain.”
“It causes the pain, too.” Lyra released her wrist and sat back on her heels. “The relief only comes because the potion itself creates the need for more.”
“That’s not true.” Zoe wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Agor needs it, too. He gets something from it.”
“The captain controls his desires, the magic doesn’t control him.” Lyra picked up the jar and replaced the lid. “But it controls you.”
Zoe stared at the container in the mage’s hands, her fingers twitching with the urge to grab it back.
“How would you know?”
“Because I brewed it.” Lyra placed the jar on the stone floor beside the bed, completely out of reach. “And because I’ve watched you these past weeks.”
Zoe hugged herself as a shiver ran through her body despite the sweat on her brow.
“I just like how it feels, that’s all.”
“This isn’t your desire talking, Zoe. It’s the spell’s.” Lyra gestured to Zoe’s trembling hands. “The magic is consuming you, twisting what you truly want into a need for more.”
“You don’t know what I want.”
“I know the human female who first arrived here would never beg for pain.” Lyra’s eyes held no judgment, only concern. “I know she wouldn’t follow a male around camp like a lost child. I know she wouldn’t steal or lie, or hurt herself for a jar of cream.”
Zoe couldn’t argue with that. She opened her mouth and closed it when she realized she had no defense. When had she become this person? When had she started caring more about the balm than about her own dignity?
“What’s happening to me?”
“The magic in the mixture binds to orc blood differently than to human blood.” Lyra reached for her bag and pulled out a small wooden cup. “For orcs, it creates a pleasant warmth thatfades within hours. For humans, it burns hotter and longer, creating a dependency that grows with each use.”
Zoe watched as Lyra poured water from a skin into the cup, then added a pinch of dried leaves from a pouch at her belt.
“Will it kill me?” she asked. Because there were truly moments when she felt like she was dying.
