Chapter 52

"Color me impressed, human. It's not every day someone dodges my ax." The orc takes one menacing step closer. His beady eyes glint like a man who has just found treasure. "Zog wasn't lying. Thorn did get a human pet."

"I'm nobody's pet," I spit back, spreading my hand behind me, looking for a purchase.

"Well, you can call it what you wish. Slave. Whore. I care not." He steps into the moonlit clearing. "You're still going to be a nice prize. I bet I can sell you for some coin. If you prove yourself grateful, I might even keep you." His eyes drop to Eirik. "After I finish my task here."

This orc is older but still has a bulky frame and a muscular body. One of his tusks is broken. The other gleams in the dim light like an ivory dagger. Around his neck, there's a necklace with a large canine. Wolfbone.

And he called Eirik his grandson. This must be their leader.

"Shagrat," I breathe out, the word like a curse.

He opens an ugly smirk. "Shagrat, King of the Wolfbone Clan. Father of an ungrateful son. Grandfather of a soon-to-be-dead child."

With the hand behind me, I search for a root, or Shagrat's ax, or a stone, or anything that might help.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask, hoping he's going to be one of those villains who loves to talk.

"A king must set an example. I forbid my son from marrying that Bearclaw slut. This is the consequence of disobeying his king."

A strange taste spreads over my tongue. This is the worst reason—it's not even an excuse. He just enjoys being an asshole.

"Thistle wasn't a slut," I spit back at him. "And if you have to kill your own son to prove a point, then you're no king at all. Your orcs should respect you for who you are."

The orc's sneer widens. "Adorable. You think you know anything? You don't belong here, human. Your kind are weak, fit only to grovel at our feet."

"I belong wherever I want, and I want to belong here." Finally, I manage to find purchase and get up, even if on unsteady legs. "You might be bigger and stronger than me, but you'll never match Thorn's might, Ursha's courage, or Morga's brains. They are my people, and I'll defend them with every breath."

"You know nothing, fool," he snarls, his voice dripping with disdain. He pulls out a knife from his belt. "None of this would've been necessary if Thorn had handed over the lands. You have no idea how much that is worth." He uses the dagger to motion around us. "How much these woods are worth."

"Maybe you're the fool, Shagrat." My heart rate slows down. I take a deep breath. Maybe I'm getting used to the idea of dying. "You see only soil and stones. We see family and clan. You don't respect what truly matters. It's you who don't belong."

His face contorts with rage, muscles tensing for a strike. I hug Eirik to my chest and turn around to shield him from the worst.

The air shifts. An immense silhouette rises behind me, casting a shadow that eats up the light. Shagrat pauses. My heart tells me Thorn has found us.

But it can't be Thorn. The silhouette didn't come from the village.

It came from the woods.