Chapter 12

Chapter

Twelve

GOVEK

I t took every drop of Govek’s will to not pick Miranda up into his arms and leave the hall.

His skin prickled, his jaw clamped, and his claws refused to sheath themselves. They threatened to rip through every male who thought about approaching Miranda. Even his own father.

He was a fucking horror. He wasn’t safe for her. She should have gone with his father. With Maythra, or Agol, or his son Wolvc. With anyone else.

And yet the idea of her being taken from him made Govek want to rip the whole Rove Tree to the ground, tear through his clansman like they were overripe berries, and crush them to a pulp in his grip.

“Don’t do that.” Miranda touched his hands without the slightest hesitation, and he was so shocked his muscles bunched and he froze. Her skin was so warm and soft as she pried his fists apart and stroked the cuts he’d made. “I thought we were getting a little better,” she chided gently, moving to use the hem of her cloak to dab at the blood. He quickly pulled away before she could.

“I am sorry,” he managed, his voice thick.

Fuck, was he really going to keep her with him while he couldn’t even think rationally?

But Fades help him. Was he going to be able to let her go?

“Don’t be sorry,” she said firmly. “You don’t need to be. Your dad is the one who should be sorry.”

Confusion blunted some of Govek’s irrational anger. “He was only trying to aid you. To offer protection.”

“I don’t need protection from you . You are protecting me,” Miranda said, causing more confusion to roll in. “But I’m not going to fight with you over it. Why don’t we go get that food? Or would being around other orcs be too much right now? We could go somewhere quiet if you need to calm down a bit more.”

Govek swallowed hard, working past the burning instincts to lock her away in his home and not allow anyone to look upon her ever again. He glanced toward the table where the women always sat with their mates. If he could not leave her with his father, perhaps he could let her be with the other women.

His father was right. She did not deserve to be dragged around like an animal. She did not deserve to have her choices snuffed out and her vulnerabilities preyed upon by his worthless instincts. The instincts that drove him to care for her and cleave to her would be the reason he lost her.

Her brow furrowed. “What are you thinking? Don’t you dare tell me to go sit with them. I’m staying with you .”

Her words soothed away some of his rage. “I’m not?—”

“I get to decide what I want to do, Govek. And who I want to spend my time with.” Miranda looked toward the table. Every eye in the room was on her, but those of the humans burned the brightest. “ Maythra is over there, and I don’t see Viravia.”

Govek let out a long breath, agony rippling over him at the thought. Without Viravia, it was likely that every woman in attendance would be quickly drawn into tales of all his past transgressions. Not that it would matter. There was truly nothing he could say to paint his past actions in a better light.

He raked a hand over his face, trying to find the correct path through this.

“Hey.” Miranda was suddenly very near, her chest almost brushing him, her hands cupping the sides of his face. “You wanna just leave and go knock down a few trees?”

He blinked, shook his head. “ What ?”

“Could be a good way to vent frustration, right?” She hummed, tapping her chin. The sly smile she gifted him was so fucking lovely he almost choked. “And after it’s down, you could, ya know, bend me over it?”

This time, he did choke.

Miranda grinned as his thoughts spiraled. “That’s better. Why don’t you think about it while we get some food?”

Think about it? While walking through the hall? While every single eye of his clansman and Karthoc’s warriors were upon them? Was she being serious?

He supposed her little plan had worked because before he knew it, he was fetching her a bowl and guiding her over to one of the stewpots. He couldn’t help noticing how close she remained to his side, how her gaze rarely left him and never once lingered on any of his brethren, how her expression only brightened when their eyes made contact.

Fuck, he was so lost to her. His instincts roared with pleasure and the burning need to haul her over his shoulder and carry her back to the depths of his home eased away.

“Where’s yours?” Miranda asked as he handed the bowl of fish stew to her and began to guide her to a quieter spot in the hall.

“I am not having any.”

“Dude, you’re all muscle. You probably have the metabolism of a sports car. You’ve gotta eat.”

Govek huffed, mostly with amusement. “I did not understand a single word you just said.”

“I could get you to eat if I wanted to,” she threatened, forcing his mirth higher.

“I’d like to see you make the attempt.”

“ Okay , but I’m going to be using the same methods I used to ‘handle’ you yesterday before we got to the butchery.”

Pleasure burst up his spine, especially when he noted a few of the nearby orcs close enough to hear had turned to look. “Fuck, woman. I thought these things embarrassed you.”

She leaned up a little and whispered, “Being smelled and flirting are two completely different things, Govek.” She looked around then, her eyes scanning the room. “Though I suppose I shouldn’t if there are kids around. Where are all the kids? Were they not invited to this?”

“The sons are with their families and instructors deep in the Rove Woods.” Miranda’s curious smile prompted him. “Every orc son, from the time of their birth, goes to commune with the seasonal shifts in summer and winter. That is when the Rove magic is at its peak and the best time for teaching. They will not return for another half moon.”

“Oh, that’s pretty cool. Kinda like a field trip?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “Must be pretty fun.”

Govek shrugged.

“You didn’t like it?”

“I was not allowed to attend.”

He shouldn’t have said it so casually, because the expression that crossed his mate’s face was anything but casual. “What do you mean? Why not? I thought you said they weren’t wary of your magic until you were seven.”

His stomach twisted as he realized his blunder. How could he tell her one of the darkest tales of his past? The one that caused his father to take drastic, necessary action to separate him for the protection of all in Rove Wood Clan?

“Hey,” Miranda touched his jaw, working at the tension with her tender fingers. Her brow was furrowed. “It’s okay.”

Govek looked into her earnest face as his promise to speak his truths stabbed into the back of his mind. Right where her imprint was raging. Steeling himself, he guided her to one of the darkened corners at the very back of the hall, nestled between the grooves of the tree.

Her brows rose, and the words tumbled from his lips. “I only went once in my youth, and during that time, I flew into a rage and destroyed the encampment.”

Miranda’s eyes widened, and she asked a question he did not expect. “You said that the children started going from their birth. So how did you, as a baby , fly into a rage so crazy you destroyed things?”

Govek swallowed. “I was not allowed to attend until I was seven summers. And by then, I was so blasted behind in my learning I had no hope of catching up.”

“Why weren’t you allowed to attend before then?”

He forced himself to shrug. “The father must attend with their child for the first few years, but my father was unable to because of pressing matters within the clan.”

“Why didn’t he have someone else go with you then?”

“That is not done.”

“What about Tavggol? Who went with him?”

“Tavggol was five summers my senior and a prodigy. By the time I was born, he did not need my father’s guidance as he had already mastered the basics and was taking private lessons from Gogvi, the elder instructor.”

She hummed to herself, thinking. “You must have been a pretty big kid to destroy the whole camp.”

“I was large for my age, but the camp was built under a rock ledge, and we took our lessons atop it. When I failed to perform as expected, I grew angry, and my magic spiraled out of control. I destroyed the support, crushing the camp beneath.”

Miranda shocked him again by huffing out a laugh. “Oh my god, are you serious? You must have been a wicked smart seven-year-old to come up with that.”

“It... was not my intent at the time. The support was simply the closest pile of rock to vent my fury on.” He looked away, toward the tapestry on the wall, toward the orcs in the center who kept their race whole with their magic. “If any had been in the camp at the time, they would have been crushed to death.”

Her humor died, and the truth of his transgression became clear. He held his breath, preparing for her harsh reaction, for her rejection. His claws began to slice through his palms.

“So... you were expelled from your schooling because you accidentally destroyed the camp?”

Govek blinked.

“Honestly, if a seven-year-old could use magic to crumble the rocks and take out the whole camp so easily, it should have never been put under there in the first place. That was a bad decision on the adult’s part. Who decided that was a good spot?” Miranda’s expression darkened, and he gulped. “Was it your dad?”

Confusion forced him to tip his head. “I... do not know. I do not believe he contributed to the decision.” Though Govek supposed, as chief, he may have. “Those rocks could not have been moved by any orcs in Rove Wood or by Karthoc’s warriors. It is only with the combination of my strength and magic that I was able to budge them. That is why I am not... safe. It was that event that brought to light how my magic functions and how dangerous it is. It was that event that was the catalyst that led to my being assigned a home on the outskirts.”

“I see,” Miranda said casually, as if his admission meant nothing to her. And perhaps it didn’t. She was not even of this world. She did not understand.

Her arms crossed as she narrowed her eyes at his father, who was still squabbling with Karthoc on top of the platform. The two had never gotten along and Govek suspected that was the reason Karthoc rarely came to Rove Wood Clan.

“One of the little girls at the daycare, Karla, was a bit of a spitfire.”

Govek turned to face Miranda once more.

“She could get into the worst shit, but she was also super smart and a natural-born leader.” Miranda’s eyes grew misty, but before Govek could think of how to aid, she recovered, wiping the tears away. “Once she used leverage with the wall and knocked over one of the big bookcases we had into the sleeping nook. Destroyed the shelf, the tables, some of the bedding, and a lot of the books.”

Where was Miranda going with this?

“She got in pretty big trouble. She could have hurt someone if they’d been sleeping.” Miranda cast him a half smile, then gave her bowl of soup a quick stir. “Had to sing the ‘sorry song’ in front of the whole class and clean up the mess with only one aid for help. Her mom had to pay for all the damages. But all of us adults understood Karla hadn’t meant to hurt anyone or realized how much damage pushing the bookshelf would do.”

Miranda scooped up a large piece of fish from the bowl and pressed it to Govek’s lips. The aroma flooded his nose with the scent of thyme and cooked trout. His stomach grumbled, and he helplessly obeyed her silent order, taking the salty bite and chewing it slowly.

“Karla’s mom had just had a new baby. Becoming a big sister was quite an adjustment for her.” Miranda scooped up another bite and gifted it to him.

“Govek, sometimes, kids react badly to change, but that doesn’t mean they’re bad kids. And it doesn’t mean they’re going to grow up to be bad adults.”

Govek stopped chewing as the words filtered through him, leaving him thunderstruck.

Had she not heard him? Was he not explaining the situation clearly? Pushing over a single shelf was nothing compared to destroying an entire camp.

But a lump had grown in his throat and a pang of uncertainty was growing in the back of his mind. His eyes slid to his father on his mighty platform next to his gilded throne, arguing with the warlord as if he had any right to do so.

Govek shook his head, trying to dislodge the unsettling thoughts. He met Miranda’s gaze again, soaked up her gentle smile, allowed himself a few moments to bask in her gracious judgment.

The comfort did not last long. Perhaps this transgression could be forgiven in her eyes, but there were many more. So many.

Confusion passed over her features. “Govek?—”

“My clan!”

The chief’s bellow instantly cut off Miranda’s response.

“My conjurers and communers, you who are set above with your prowess and gifted magic by the Great Rove Tree, it has been my privilege to lead this clan almost one hundred and forty wonderful seasons. Many trials have?—”

“For blast’s sake, Ergoth, get on with it,” Karthoc said, earning tense silence from the Rove Wood Clan and chuckles from his warriors, who now lined the far wall, clearly having been refused seating just as Govek.

Ergoth continued, though with a hint of tension in his tone. “The Great Rove Tree, conjured by the Fades themselves, imbued with their light and power, has given grand magic to us.

“We acknowledge Sythcol, our great conjurer, whose skills outmatch any other, Hovget, the best healer Rove Wood has ever known, Caveskil, who calls the rains as if they are his kin, Ravtogh...”

The list continued, on and on, sinking Govek into the ground. Down to where the Fades slept so they could mock him in their slumber. Never once had Govek been acknowledged in the list of those who were blessed by the Fades. Never once had his clan had reason to give him more notice than a glance of distrust.

When he was younger, hunters were called and praised for their prowess. Govek had been in awe of their strength and strived to uphold their mantle. But they were praised no longer. With so many blighted beasts, there was no honor in killing those that were healthy, even when those kills meant their clan did not starve. The hunters he’d admired had all abandoned the Rove Woods for the war or had taken up a more suitable role within the clan.

“Let us honor the Fades. Praise them for their gifts to us,” Chief Ergoth said, raising his wood goblet high, beginning a chant. Low calls rumbled as the whole clan spoke in unison. Even a few of the woman joined.

Govek remained silent. He’d never been taught this prayer.

“And now, my young nephew, Warlord Karthoc, would like to address us in good tiding.” Ergoth stepped to the side, but not away.

“I will not drivel on,” Karthoc said with a pointed look to Chief Ergoth as he took up the center of the platform. “The war is not going well. The Waking Order’s numbers seem to grow with each passing day, and they have razed four clans south of Hexlin. There were no survivors and no warning before these attacks.”

Govek went ice cold in an instant. Fuck! Four clans destroyed? Was the war going that badly?

Would... Karthoc’s forge even be safe for Miranda?

“They come over the Wyin Mountains in droves. Despite the perilous passage and the legions guarding the borders, they continue to break into our lands. It is only a matter of time before they come to Rove.”

A clamor rose from the clan, voices high and outraged. Chief Ergoth stepped forward.

“The edge of the Rove Woods is yet two full days of travel from here. Even if they breached the outer forest, they would not make it past the barriers that my conjurers have created.”

“They would,” Karthoc said, his voice flat. “It is foolhardy to believe they would not. The Waking Order is both cunning and growing . Their numbers outrank my own, three to one.”

Three to one ? Bile rose in Govek’s throat.

“We will forge more defenses. Sythcol, come up, explain to the warlord what your plans are.”

Sythcol stood up from his place at the head of the conjurers’ table. He was only a little older than Govek but the deep-set lines in his face and his faded pale-green hair made him appear much older. His hands had long gone black from many seasons of endless conjuring. Creating magical healing remedies to send to Karthoc’s warriors to aid in the war.

A war that they were losing, despite all efforts.

“Sit down, conjurer. None of your words will sway me. My decision is final,” Karthoc said, waving Sythcol back. “And that decision...”

Karthoc trailed his eyes across the room until they met with Govek’s.

“That decision is to merge Rove Wood Clan with Baelrok.”

A dreaded silence descended. The harsh intake of air before chaos reigned.

And reign it did. Rove Wood Clan erupted. The cacophony of voices rose to dizzying heights, roaring into the branches of the Great Rove Tree, and spilled discontent and anguish into the air so thick Govek had trouble catching his breath.

Karthoc was going to merge Rove Wood with his forge.

The whole fucking clan would be there.

With Govek and his new mate.

Fuck .

“Karthoc, you must be jesting!” Chief Ergoth’s voice carried above the others and quieted the fervor. “You cannot possibly mean for my clan to leave Rove Wood?—”

“I am your warlord, and my decision is final. You will come with me to Baelrok.”

“What of the tinctures you so desperately need? What of the healing magic you require to keep the Waking Order at bay?”

“You will make them at my forge.”

“They will never have the same potency. The Great Rove Tree is required to keep our magic hale. And what of future generations? No orcs will be born with magic if they are not conceived and carried within these woods!”

The smug smile plastered to Karthoc’s face and forced Govek to gulp. The warlord’s eyes snapped to Govek once before returning to the chief. “In the past that was true, uncle , but something has shifted in our race. In the last four seasons, we have found seventeen orcs who can wield magic. Warrior orcs born far outside Rove Wood that have no connection to this great tree.”

What? Govek went cold as shock twisted into his gut and the blood drained from his face.

“That isn’t... that isn’t possible,” Ergoth said with a shaking breath. Govek could only just make it out. “Only my clan can produce conjurers. Mine alone.”

“Why such shock, uncle? Your own son was born a warrior with magic.”

“Yes, and Govek is—” Ergoth’s mouth snapped shut, and his fists curled.

Govek’s heart thundered in his chest as agony gripped him.

“Govek is what, uncle? Speak full what you would like to say of my cousin. Your only living son of whom you should be proud. Govek is strong , just as the magic wielders we have discovered are. These males could win us the war. Their power could overthrow the Waking Order and yet you regard them with scorn.”

“I would not scorn them,” Ergoth stammered.

“You have rejected your own son , refused to train him in his skills. Govek could be the most powerful male in my legions if you had not forced him into squalor at the edges of your clan.”

“Govek is a different case. You do not know him as I?—”

“I know enough. Enough to be assured that I cannot trust you to treat these other seventeen males with fairness. They need to be trained, and I cannot trust you, Ergoth of Rove Wood, to follow through on that. So, you will join me in Baelrok, where I can oversee their treatment myself.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t...” Chief Ergoth stood tall. “You are unreasonable, Warlord. Surely only a few of my conjurers would be needed to train them. Why, I would send Sythcol to see that the work is done well.”

Govek saw the lead conjurer tense in his seat.

“Forcing us all to leave when only a few are needed is preposterous.”

“ All will come.” Karthoc’s voice held no room for argument. “I will not have this clan fractured apart, as I know well how being in groups enhances the magic. And being outside the Rove Woods will already stifle the training enough as is.”

“If you know that, then allow them to come here to train,” Chief Ergoth said desperately over the swelling voices of the crowd. “This place under the Great Rove Tree holds the strongest magic. The closest connection to the Fades. It is where the seasons themselves are birthed. Why, our sons are out communing in winter as we speak. Denying these conjurers of yours access to Rove’s gifts will only stunt them.”

“Yes, I agree,” Karthoc said. Govek was flummoxed.

Ergoth breathed deep. “Then you will send them here.”

“Only on one condition will I consider it.”

The whispers began again.

“Name it,” Ergoth said.

“If you want me to send the conjurers here, a score of my warriors will join to protect them.”

“Of course,” Ergoth said with an instant nod. “Of course, my nephew. We would welcome them warmly, just as we would welcome these new conjurers.”

“I’m not done.” Karthoc found Govek’s eyes again. “I will send my warriors and Govek will be named the chief of Rove Wood Clan. He will lead them—them and you.”

Govek’s ears rang, his stomach dropped and his eyes blurred as he tried to comprehend the words spewing from his cousin’s tongue. He could not discern if the roaring was from the voices of the clan or his own blood rushing through his veins.

“Silence!” Karthoc roared, though his demands did almost nothing this time. “Govek is the only male who understands what it means to wield strength and magic together. The only one who could understand their struggle. The only one who I can trust to follow my orders fully. It is that, or when I leave here to return to my forge, the whole of your clan will return with me.”

Govek rose from his seat, ignoring the onslaught of voices and orders and harsh rebukes. Ignoring even the screaming logic in his head that demanded he confront Karthoc and force him to undo this horror.

He needed to think. To catch his breath. To fucking escape .

He never should have come back.

He was dimly aware that Miranda, his precious mate, had grabbed his arm as he turned to go. The worry in her intense gaze skewered him.

And then she blessed him with firm words. “I’ll follow you.”