“Why do you stay with him?”
At Abby’s question, Hula’s expression changed. But only a little. The anger in her eyes was shadowed by sadness.
“Love. I love him. I was a grunt when he found me and asked me to join his horde. He made me a raider, and then he made me his bride. He loves me, too. He just shows it differently.”
Abby smiled bitterly. She’d heard women talk like this before. She’d had a friend in high school who was in a toxic relationship, and every time Abby told her she needed to leave, all she managed to do was damage their friendship. She’d been accused of not understanding true love and its all-consuming passions so many times that Abby had eventually wondered if she herself had ever been in love at all.
But then she saw Uthar and Beth. And how Uthar treated Beth, how he looked at her, how he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. And Abby knew that was true love. Anything else was nothing but a perversion, and the people living it were sad, indeed.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“What? Why would you say that?” Hula grabbed her by the neck and lifted her slightly. “Why would you say that?”
“Because... because you don’t deserve to be treated like this.”
“My mate treats me just fine.”
Hula was choking her. Abby tried to pull free, but she only managed to scratch Hula’s arm. The orc didn’t even notice.
“I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to... offend you...”
Hula only squeezed harder. There was a darkness in her eyes that was impenetrable.
What saved Abby was the sound of a commotion coming from outside. Hula swore in orc language and let her go. She turned on her heel, walked out, and slammed the door shut. Abby heard the lock turn.
She crumbled to the floor, crying. She should’ve kept her mouth shut. What had she been thinking, trying to empathize with the female orc? Now Hula hated her even more, and if Uthar the Hunter didn’t hurry, Abby wasn’t sure she would last a day with Morok and his hateful mate. She believed Hula when she said she loved him. And the wrong kind of love, love that was toxic, could push someone to do unspeakable things. She was pretty sure Hula wasn’t going to allow Morok to touch her, no matter what she said. She was going to slit Abby’s throat anyway, get rid of her body, then blame it on someone else. Or admit she did it and accept Morok’s punishment. Because, at the end of the day, they were mates.
And Abby was nothing.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The sun was down, and her blood boiled with rage. As her krag charged ahead, Kinna spread her arms open, feeling the magic run through them, seep through her fingertips, come out in sparks that were ready to burn the old farm and the horde in it to the ground.
They’d barricaded all the entrances, and they waited in the dark for Uthar and his horde to fall into their trap. Except Uthar knew it was a trap. Or that it was intended as one. And he didn’t care.
Kinna didn’t care, either. They weren’t here to play Morok’s game. They were here to take back what was theirs and be done with this madness once and for all. Morok wasn’t going to walk out of here alive.
They rode their krags like in the old days, in their dimension, when they fought for their war chief, conquering new lands for him. Kinna felt like this time they were fiercer, though. More determined than ever. They weren’t fighting for anyone but themselves. They were protecting their land.
Uthar urged them ahead with a cry of battle, and the krags flew right over the barricades where they could, and where they couldn’t, they smashed through them.
They fought with swords and daggers, with arrows and magic. Blood soon started soaking the ground.
Uthar’s orcs knew to stay close, because that was the only way Kinna, who had intentionally fallen behind, could throw a protective shield around them. With her arms spread wide and magic crackling at her fingertips, she focused with all her might. As the grunts attacked Morok’s horde, they cut deep and couldn’t be cut in turn. The enemy orcs were numerous, but they weren’t as organized as Uthar’s orcs, who’d fought together in the war. Morok’s horde was chaotic, each grunt and raider doing what they thought best. That made it difficult for their mage, Borrin the Dancer, to protect them with energy shields.
They tried to come for her, of course. In battle, the strategy that had priority over all else was to take out the opponent’s mage. Two grunts rode toward her, and Kinna took a deep breath, released it slowly, and with a swipe of her hand, she made them fly off their krags. She closed her hand into a fist, and one of the grunts howled in pain. She’d just broken both his legs. She opened her hand, closed it again, and the other one’s hands flew to his neck, trying to stop from choking. It was over in minutes. And all that without breaking the shield that protected the horde.
She was starting to get a headache. Magic of this scale wasn’t easy to perform. It took a toll on her mind and body, and she could feel herself grow weaker with every minute that passed. Uthar had to hurry, but Morok indeed had many orcs under his command. Too many.
She decided to move closer. She squeezed the sides of her krag, and the beast began to advance. As more grunts came at her, she drew symbols in the air, murmured spells, and slashed with her long, elegant arms left and right, making enemy orcs choke on nothing, fall with broken limbs, and spit blood as they collapsed to the ground.
Kinna searched deep inside herself and pulled forth the darkest magic she knew. At some point, she saw Uthar up ahead, crossing swords with three orcs at once. They exchanged a glance, and Kinna saw in his eyes that even he was in awe of her. He’d never seen her like that. No one had ever seen her like that, she supposed. Not even she had known she had such rage inside her, such passion for blood – the blood of those who’d dared to touch what Kinna loved.
Because, yes, she realized now, as she mauled and killed, that she was doing it for love.
The battle didn’t last long, though Kinna had lost track of time. With the headache pounding between her temples, and sweat trickling down her back, she felt like it had been hours. Days. It was dark, the only light coming from torches and random fires. A side of the old farm was burning, and Kinna thought it was time to go looking for Abby.
She grabbed the reins of her krag and surged ahead. Morok’s horde was starting to disperse, the orcs not devoted enough to keep fighting. She saw their mage, and for a second, Kinna thought he was going to try and stop her. She lifted her arm, and with a grunt of exhaustion formed a ball of light in her palm. Her krag slowed down, but when she was finally face to face with Borrin the Dancer, he stepped aside. He showed no sign that he wanted to engage her in battle. Kinna cocked an eyebrow but let the sphere of light dissipate. It was getting harder and harder to do magic, and she’d dropped the shields around Uthar and the horde a few minutes ago. But since the enemy was on the run, they didn’t need her anymore.