Chapter 2

Two

Govek stormed into his home, teeth gnashing, blood racing. The door frame cracked, splintering against the force he used to wrench it open.

His father, the mighty Chief Ergoth of Rove Wood Clan, wanted him gone, so Govek would get to it. He was leaving tonight. Right now. He refused to wallow in the muck at the outskirts of Rove Wood, begging for scraps for one moment longer.

Govek's rage was like a vise, gripping his chest with deadly strength, threatening to undo him. The anger bubbled up in his throat, burned at his tongue, and scorched his mind. It flooded him with the need to vent his fury. He would render his home to bits, tear the still living tree it was built within down in one mighty blow. Let the thundering boom of its trunk swallow up the vicious sounds of his clan eating merrily in the Hall while he was sent to his death.

His father was too grief-stricken to see reason, but his brethren could have said something. They could have spoken on his behalf.

No one had.

Govek slashed at one wall, gouging his claws deep into the carved surface, destroying hours of work in a single strike. Hours of his work. Sitting here alone, with only the pops of his fire to break the ill-Faded silence. Painstakingly working vine and leaf patterns into his walls in a desperate attempt to drown out his loneliness.

He stayed away for them. To protect this clan from what he was—an abomination of the Fades, born with the same gifts to conjure magic that all his brethren in Rove Wood shared, but also with a vile disposition that tainted those gifts. Warrior strength that made that power too unpredictable. Too brutal. Too monstrous.

Even for the likes of orcs.

Govek raked his hand through his short, cropped hair. His palms were stinging. He'd made deep cuts from balling his fists to hide his wretched claws. Claws that refused to sheath even now. They'd never obeyed him.

He gulped in air. Forcing his blood to cool. He needed to think. But his rage had always held him in a tight grip. It had a life of its own, burning and prickling, as harsh as the cuts his claws had made.

He needed to pack.

Glancing about his small home, Govek felt a sharp pang of regret in his chest. He touched the place where he had ruined the design on his wall, glad that his outburst hadn't gone too far.

This dwelling his father had assigned so many years past had become both prison and refuge.Destroying it would only prove he was the threat his brethren believed him to be.

Finally, he saw sense. Rolling his shoulders back, he stomped into his bedroom, where he yanked his pack out from beneath the bed. Govek had made the leather pack himself, painstakingly working the hide of a great boar he'd slain in his bid for adulthood. It was still sturdy—after a full decade of prolonged use.

He'd never packed it to the brim as he intended to now, never prepared it for a lengthy journey.

He should have left Rove Wood a long time ago, joined his cousin Karthoc when he'd invited him into his forge so many seasons past. But instead, he'd stayed because only Rove Wood could harbor conjurers—wielders of Fade magic. The gifts blessed to the orcs born under their Great Rove Tree.

Gifts he, with his violent strength and uncontrolled temper, should never have had. He should be like his brethren—peaceful, quiet, and serene—instead, he was a monster. Built like a warrior, with bulging muscles and a blood-lust that simmered under his skin and made the magic he was born with deadly and chaotic.

Tavggol's words coursed through his mind, cooling his fury. "You're a conjurer just like the rest of us, Govek. You belong here. The others will see that before long."

Govek placed a hot hand over his burning eyes and took deep breaths into his lungs.

One full season had passed. Three miserable moons. Ninety-seven days.

Since they had killed his elder brother.

There was no reason for Govek to stay a moment longer.

He searched his trunk once more for extra clothing and discovered the cloak tucked away at the bottom. It was made from the same boar he'd proudly slain to make his pack. He'd worked tirelessly on it in his youth, when he'd been more foolish and prone to hope.

It was small in his hands and fitted for a female. A mate. He'd lined it with fox fur for warmth and treated the hide to be resistant to rainfall. It was in perfect condition, never worn. Not even by Yerina.

She would have scorned it, anyway. Demanded something prettier, something more delicate.

Govek scrubbed his hand over his face to push the thoughts of his former woman out of his mind. He turned his attention back to the cloak.

Perhaps he was still a fool because instead of tossing it away, he folded it and tucked it into his pack. It took up precious space that could have been used for other things, like extra clothes or tinctures.

Govek would carry his hope with him, though he held no illusion it may ever become reality.

He had only just settled it away when he heard someone walking up the darkened path. The slight creak of his bottom porch step alerted him, too quiet to be an orc, followed by the strong scent of sage wafting in.

Viravia.

He hefted his pack while bringing his lower jaw up to conceal his tusks and fangs. His jaw twinged with that familiar dull ache. The pain of contorting his face was almost like an old friend, allowing him to be in the presence of the few precious human females that made Rove Wood Clan their home without frightening them half to death. All his brethren performed this act, but with their much smaller teeth, it did not contort their features or cause them pain as it did him.

It couldn't be helped. He had long resigned himself to it. He was loath to make anyone any more fearful of him than they already were.

Especially his late brother's mate.

He came out of the bedroom and found Viravia still on his stoop. Her bright blue eyes were wide with shock after seeing his door half off its hinges. Proof that his fury was just as unhinged.

It was dangerous for her to be here, but she did it anyway. Tavggol's mate had always been brave.

And far too kind.

Govek moved toward her, and she scampered down to the bottom step. He resisted the urge to growl in frustration at her blatant fear.It cut him deep that his brother's widow would think he might harm her, even though he knew she had good reason to be wary.

"Control yourself, Govek. You are frightening the women," his father would remind him.

Govek clenched his fists. He could feel his blood thrumming through the corded veins of his neck because of the effort. Working to follow his father's advice, even though he despised it.

Why was he never in control? For the others, it came so easy.

If he hadn't been born with magic, he would never have had to worry about it. He could have vented his vile anger like all the other warrior orcs instead of hiding here in Rove Wood.

He would change that now. Magic or not, he would go.

Viravia's cheeks heated to a bright pink, and she tucked her black hair behind her ear. Embarrassment was a very human emotion and Govek's irritation dimmed at the sight of it.

"Can I come in?" Her voice was a bare whisper.

He moved aside, backing away into his kitchen so she could enter without having to skirt around him. For what it was worth, she'd recovered from her fear before she crossed the threshold.

She was flush, chest rising and falling in soft tandem. Her cheeks still colored, lips red, and her hair was wind stroked. His late brother's mate was the epitome of human beauty.

It rendered Govek even more disgusted that he could think of his brother's woman this way.

He truly was vile.

He returned to the task of packing supplies from a cabinet he'd carved and oiled himself. The kitchen had been his own design, and he had used it far more often than an orc typically would. His hearth was lined with the stonework he'd chiseled. His furniture and trappings were all handwrought.

Perhaps another clan member would take it. One who would have no use for the full kitchen since they would be welcome to eat in the Hall. One who would put all four chairs at the table to use, visiting and playing betting games. Or enjoy the small seating area off the kitchen to its fullest, since they would spend their time in the company of others.

"You're . . . you're really going?"

He shot a glance at Viravia, his eyes lingering on her swollen stomach. She stroked her hand down it protectively, as any expectant mother would. "Yes."

Her breath left her in a rush. "Govek, you can't."

He snorted. His father thought otherwise. "I was given a command."

"A stupid, foolhardy command," Viravia said, earning a degree of interest from him. Most would not dare insult Chief Ergoth so plainly. She continued without preamble, ruining the wry humor Govek had gained. "You should take me on as your conquest, Govek."

Bubbling fury coated his throat and threatened to spill from his mouth. He kept his teeth clenched hard as he rasped, "No."

The woman's shoulders slumped. "I don't mean for us to be mates, Govek. Just partners, friends, and this babe is... he's already your kin. None would argue if you took him on as your son."

"No, Viravia," he managed, trying to keep the snarl from his tone.

"Tavggol would?—"

Govek slammed his fist so hard into the wooden countertop it exploded, snapping off the corner. Viravia yipped and skittered away. His hand stung from the impact. The cuts on his palm broke open anew.

"Do not speak of what my brother would have wanted," Govek snarled. Tavggol was the only male in this fucking clan that had ever given a shit about him. He could never betray his brother in such a vicious way.

The idea of taking his brother's widow for his own mate made bile rise in his throat. And he could not risk the health and safety of his nephew by acting as his father.

Govek's brutal strength combined with his magic was too dangerous to be around anything so fragile and precious.

To her credit, Viravia did not flee.

Remorse clouded Govek's fury as he examined the damage he'd done to his counter. His mind raked over the steps it would take to repair it. He managed to sheath his claws.

"You needn't worry, Viravia. Your child will be the next clan leader, as all here desire."

"I don't care about that."

Govek took pause, brow furrowed.

"All I want is for this clan to be safe so that he can grow without fear. In peace." She rubbed her pregnant stomach tenderly again and Govek's shoulders sagged.

It was an ill-begotten, but lovely, wish. One he knew his brother had held dear as well.

"This clan will be safer without me in it."

Viravia straightened, meeting his eyes. "That's not true. All the orcs in Rove Wood have magic. You aren't any different from them."

Govek nearly laughed at such a blatant lie. "Aren't any different? Has pregnancy made you blind?"

Viravia's brows pinched with hurt and Govek regretted his harsh words but could not take them back. Nor did Viravia have any to counter them. They both could see that Govek was not built the same as the slender, regal Rove Wood orcs. He had three times the muscle of the burliest male here.

He was built like a warrior. Like Warlord Karthoc, who was, even now, training his males at Baelrok Forge. Preparing them for gruesome battle. His cousin was determined to fight back against the Waking Order's slaughter.

Govek would join them. He would keep Rove Wood secure from the outside. He did not understand why he still gave a shit, but his gut clenched with the urge to protect these Fade-blessed woods.

"My cousin will not allow this clan to fall." Govek turned to his kitchen so he could continue packing. He tucked the hardened bread into a cloth napkin. "It is too vital."

"How can the Warlord protect this clan from war when he is at the center of it?" The venom in Viravia's tone brought back Govek's wry amusement.

"My cousin is powerful and wise."

"Karthoc is a war-hungry twat who will bring more death here than can be measured by graves alone," Viravia spat, forcing an amused snort from Govek. To think this tiny slip of a female could spout such brave nonsense. He would have liked to see her face up to Karthoc.

Viravia hoped for peace, but peace between humans and orcs was all but doomed with war continuing to rage between them.

"If... if you won't take me, then I'll go to the Headman at Oakwall Village and speak for you."

Govek stilled.

"Your father can't possibly be sure that every woman there would spurn you. Not everyone believes what Yerina says. If you just told your side?—"

"It doesn't matter." Govek's voice was so low it rumbled in his gut.

"But if I just?—"

"No, Viravia." He refused to speak with her about this. With anyone. The clan could gossip, and the village could lob accusations, but in the end, what had happened between him and Yerina was private. Govek's truths were his own. There was no use trying to change anyone's mind. They wouldn't believe him, anyway. They didn't want to hear his excuses.

"You were never officially named the heir to the clan," Viravia said, her desperation rising in tandem with the tone of her voice. "And having a conquest in order to become the heir is a stupid tradition. Why, Savili told me not even your father honored it."

"This has never been about me finding a conquest, Viravia. No one actually wants me to sire a son," Govek said, meeting her eyes. "You know that as well as I."

This was about getting rid of him. Once and for all.

He balled his fists to hide his claws again.

"If you don't lead the clan, then who will?"

"Sythcol," Govek said, now remembering to pack healing tinctures. Magical ointments and salves that made Rove Wood Clan so important to the war efforts. It was the only reason his kind had not fallen to the Waking Order's plunder long ago.

"Sythcol and his conjurers are far too busy making tinctures for the orc warriors to find time to lead this clan," Viravia said.

"My father is in good health. He should be able to lead a long time. Long enough for your son to grow strong. And then he will lead this clan."

"You can't go to Estwill, Govek." Viravia's voice held a tremor. He clung to that tiny scrap of kindness like a drowning rat. "They'll kill you."

He said nothing to that obvious statement.

"Chief Ergoth must be wrong about the missives your mother sent from Estwill. There's no way she could have gotten them through, even with a messenger sparrow. And five women wanting to resettle here and become conquests to orcs? From a village overtaken by the Waking Order? It's madness."

It was. And so was sending your only living son to his death.

"Of course, I would know your mother's hand and scent above all others. Corine was my conquest, my mate, for six Fades-blessed years until you were born."

Ergoth's words blistered through his mind. Words spoken before the whole of the clan.

"Go and bring these women back. One will surely play conquest for you. And four other orcs will also be blessed with sons. The Fades smile upon us this day."

He barely withheld a growl as his rage spiked. Was his father delusional? Had Tavggol's death warped his mind?

Or did he despise Govek that much?

Govek gripped the tie of his pack and knotted it.

"You plan to martyr yourself, then." Her tone was hushed with reproach.

He had no intention of going anywhere near Estwill, but he had not the energy to explain his true plans to Viravia.

"You can't mean to leave right now," Viravia said as he moved past her and out the door.

Autumn swirled around him. The trees of Rove Wood were colored orange and red, flooding the land of Faeda with the last gasp of beauty before winter rendered their world dark and still.

Govek glanced toward the flickering firelight of his clan and breathed in the wood smoke and roasting meat.

Elkmeat. His mind's eye flashed with the memory, seeing the prized elk he'd fought cooking over the fire in the Rove Wood Hall.Its flank slashed by deep gouges. Govek had worked so fucking hard to take down the elk quickly and painlessly while also ensuring not to damage it so every bit of the meat could be used, and then his father handed it over to a novice butcher who had ruined it.

"Govek, please," Viravia cried loudly. Her voice broke the stillness. She was trying to draw attention, but it was useless. There was no one around to hear, even if they could. Govek's dwelling was too far from any other clan member's home.

"Govek!" Viravia rushed forward, though she stopped short of touching him.

His eyes lingered on her rounded stomach. His thoughts turned to the future. "Goodbye, Viravia. I truly hope you and your son find the peace you crave."

With those parting words, Govek turned away and set out on his journey. He left his clan behind without a farewell and embraced whatever trials lay ahead of him, knowing at the depths of his soul that he would never return to Rove Wood Clan.

The first twodays of travel were a blur. Govek knew these woods better than he knew himself. They were his most steadfast friend and greatest ally. They had kept him safe for all his seasons.

Then he reached the end of their safety.

The autumn had fallen hard on Rove Wood.

It was far too soon. It should have been at least another moon cycle, another thirty days, before the oaks and maples turned completely. The trees surrounding Govek were tinged with their brightest colors. Gold and red and orange, beautiful but unsettling.

The hunting had also become difficult. When Govek had first taken up the mantle of hunter for the clan, it had been easy to find large game. Now, ten summers later, the only thing left in abundance were the many fish in the Spring of the Fades.

The blight had reached Rove Woods despite its ancient history as the purest glen on the surface of Faeda.

But the Fades slept on, uncaring that the beings they created were in peril.

The Great Rove Tree, a relic of the Fades themselves, twined its roots with the other plant life. Extending its magic and protection for many leagues, but it could not touch all of Faeda.

Govek spent far too much time at that edge, staring down at the soil as if he might see the roots beneath. He was well aware of what it felt like to cross the magical barrier and was not looking forward to doing it again. Especially knowing these were his last moments in its sacred space. It was not like his journey with Karthoc, taken a full season ago, when Govek had known he would eventually return.

This was truly the last time.

The pull to return to Rove Wood, to go back to his clan, back to the Great Tree, was almost too much to endure. It sang in his veins, blistered up his spine, burrowed into every corner of his mind.

But he couldn't. He would not go back. And no amount of hesitation would make leaving easier.

Govek forced himself on, working past the prickling under his skin and the bone deep dread that flooded his mind, and crossed into the outer forest.

His senses felt stifled. Colors dimmed before his eyes. Red and yellow trees were muted. Evergreen bushes grayed. The light too. It was as if midday had plunged into late afternoon. Even the chill in the air felt harsher.

The blurring numbness punctuated by the sharp pain of each heartbeat drove Govek to distraction.

When he was with Karthoc and his warriors on their journey to Clairton a season ago, he'd been able to ignore the pain by concentrating on the looming dread of Tavggol's disappearance. He'd focused on finding his brother. Rescuing him.

Govek balled his fists.

It had been warm then, midsummer heat baked the land. Now it was icy cold as winter steadily crept in.

The easy chatter of Karthoc's warriors had helped, too. Leaving Rove Wood made their heads turn foggy and muddled, as if the Fades themselves rebelled against orc kind leaving their blessed woods. For half a day, the warriors' ability to perceive threats, smell them on the air, hear them in the distance, had diminished, but with a group of twenty, it hardly mattered. They took care of each other.

Now, Govek was alone, and he could not help but turn irritable at the relentless throbbing in his muscles.

He knew he would grow accustomed to being outside the realm of the Rove Woods by nightfall, but until then, he would suffer.

He paused at a river. The roar of the current and glistening water beckoning him. Govek washed his face and neck in the icy current, considering the option of setting up camp for the rest of the day and letting the pain of leaving Rove Wood run its course. However, with naught but the flickering of firelight before him, Govek was certain his thoughts would turn dark.

A harsh squeal cut through his senses.

Govek whirled, claws instantly extended, and teeth bared. His eyes found the predator right off the bank.

A great boar. Slick brown fur, flat dripping nose, and beady black eyes. It was small for its kind, but still taller than he was by half a head. Its body was larger than that of three human horses. Its arched back and muscular body staggered toward him.

The boar was sick. Its thick hide was patchy, mouth foamed, and its eyes were clouded. It swayed as it took in Govek, as if drunk.

It had the blight.

The beast lunged toward him, and Govek dodged, storming into the river. Icy water raged around his legs. He wanted to cull the boar quickly, painlessly. It need not suffer any more than it already had. It squealed at him, charging. Govek leaped to the side. Its huge tusks nearly grazed him as it hurtled into deeper water. They were as long as his arm. They could stick him right through.

It lunged again, and Govek swung around, working to get to its jugular. He unhinged his jaw, gaping his maw. Cool air rushed into his throat as he readied to strike.

The animal slid on the slick rocks, its legs knocking and buckling. It went down.

Govek seized his opportunity and pounced. He raked his jaws into the boar's flesh, dragging his fangs across its neck, and speared deep to find its vein.

Thick blood spewed into his mouth, tasting of metal and rot. Govek jerked away and spat the blighted liquid into the river. He couldn't catch the blight from it, but it would make him sick to his stomach.

The animal squealed and its life slowly ebbed away. Its death spasms dwindled. The water ran red, and Govek stepped away, watching, waiting for it to finally go still.

When it had, he rinsed his mouth out, washing the tainted blood away. Then went for a better look.

The tusks were altered—bound by spikes and sharpened to points.

His gut twisted. Humans. It had to be. None but humans of the Waking Order would stoop so low as to deform and bind one of the Fades great beasts to use for war.

But to use one that was clearly blighted? It seemed like folly. Judging from the boar's condition, it had been suffering from the curse for at least two seasons, but the rope looked fresh.

Perhaps the humans who had captured this boar were too dense to realize it had been tainted by blight?

Govek raked a hand through his hair, tugging at the short strands which brought clarity. Something wasn't right about this. Humans could be thickskulled, but using a boar like this was madness.

His hands came down to cut the leather straps away from the boar's tusks so it might journey to the Fades unaltered.

A disconcerting and very familiar scent wafted up. Something he knew but could not place. His mind was still too muddled from leaving Rove Wood. He leaned in for a better whiff and at the same moment the boar jerked up and skewered him with the spikes.

Right in his gut.

Govek roared, scrambling back, but it was too late. The current snagged him, caught his feet out from under his weight and dragged him into the water.

The rapids were quick and jagged with debris. He was bashed into rocks and hurtled into logs. It took all his energy to keep his pack with him and hold his head above the water.

Damn the Fades for the part they played in this.

His elbow slammed into a stone, and pain ricocheted up his arm. The distraction was nearly his doom. A hidden boulder under the surface crushed his ribs and caused him to lose his breath. He went under, and his throat flooded with the crisp, icy water.

His pack floated, and he clung to it. It was the only thing that kept him alive.

Govek fought and pushed back the agony.

He choked on hard-won air.

A branch slashed his cheek, and he snatched it up. Water sprayed around his face and shoulder as he hung from the limb.

Thankfully, it held.

He clutched his lifeline and pulled his way to the bank. Bramble caught him at the edge, and rocks abraded his tattered flesh.

He lived. Fuck.

His chest heaved, so heavy it burned, and his vision blurred, but he found the strength to hoist himself up. He pushed through the blackberry patch using his pack as a shield. Every breath was agony, sharp and potent.

Sitting down to examine himself, he found his ribs were cracked.

Wrenching his pack open, Govek gripped one of his precious few tinctures, uncorked the vial's top and downed the bitter liquid in a single gulp. Heat bloomed through his body as the tincture healed him, slowly working its magic.

He was spent. Govek slumped to the muddy ground, taking a moment to catch his breath.

Barking broke the silence. The odor of wolves far too close skewered his senses.

A hunting pack had caught the scent of his blood.

The Fades truly wished him to suffer.

He was up on his feet, sprinting again, rushing through the woods. His legs throbbed and his chest exploded. His mind was in tatters.

Fuck the blight. Fuck the wolves. Fuck the Fades.

With his eyes trained to the sky, he was fathoming up more curses, when an unbelievable sight assaulted him.

A woman—a human woman—appeared out of thin air at the top of the tree line and fell.

Govek froze as she landed in a convenient pile of leaves. They billowed around her, cushioning the drop she'd sustained.

He reeled, confused and thunderstruck. What great magic had conjured her?

And then he was smacked with a devastatingly familiar sensation. It sparked in his veins, danced along his limbs, and clenched around his heart.

He shook his head to clear it and raked hands through his hair.

He must be mistaken. Imprinting did not work like this. It wasn't possible.

But the instinctual hum in his chest couldn't be denied.

The wolves bellowed too close. Just off the tree line.

He did not have time to think.

Fades help him.