Page 1 of Vexing the Grumpy Orc

CHAPTER ONE

GALAN

The migraine pulsed behind my left eye as Miranda measured out a pale green liquid into a vial. Her steady hands moved with practiced care, but the slight curl of her lips said she enjoyed my discomfort far too much.

“Almost done.” The witch’s smug superiority crawled under my skin. “Unless you’d prefer to keep glaring holes in my back?”

I shifted my weight, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a response. The kitchen walls pressed in close, heavy with the scent of herbs and whatever magic she’d worked into them. My cousin might have welcomed this witch into our village, but that didn’t mean I had to like it.

But my only other choice was pain that left me bedridden for days. Shaman Durzum turned me awayeach month, telling me the witch’s potion would do the trick better than any he could brew.

It felt suspiciously like a setup, and I hated being shoved around for another’s whim.

“There.” She stoppered the vial and slid it across the counter. “Three drops in water, same as always.”

I snatched up the vial, ignoring how the glass warmed at my touch. Magic. Her magic, seeping into everything it touched. Just like she’d seeped into our clan, our traditions, our?—

Osen’s watchful gaze from across his kitchen kept my tongue in check.

“Thank you for your... assistance.” I managed not to spit the last word. Barely.

“Always a pleasure, Galan.” Her tone dripped honey-sweet venom. “Such stimulating conversation.”

I gave her the barest nod required by clan courtesy. Any less, and Osen would tear it from my hide. The chief might be my cousin, but his mate was still his mate with all the possessive, protective bullshit that went with the bite.

The door didn’t quite slam behind me. The sound of their low voices followed me out—probably discussing my ‘attitude problem’ again.

The autumn wind bit through my clothes as I stalked through the village. My head throbbed in time with each step. The pain felt righteous somehow, matching the fury that burned in my chest.

Grimstone had changed in the year since Miranda’sarrival. Small things. Subtle things. The way the night watch carried healing potions alongside their weapons. The strange herbs drying in kitchen windows. How quickly they’d forgotten my father’s exile while embracing an outsider.

A year since Alris died after getting in bed with dark magic and rotten covens. A year of watching my cousin moon over the witch who’d turned our world inside out. A full fucking year of my father’s empty seat at clan gatherings while Miranda sat in a place of honor.

At least Torain had the decency to keep his human mate in Silvermist Falls. Though watching him abandon his duties to play shopkeeper wasn’t much better. The clan’s master carver, reduced to dusting shelves and hosting reading circles. Our ancestors must be howling.

I left the village proper behind, following the steep path that wound toward my territory. My cabin perched on the edge of clan lands, where the mountain met the sky. Close enough to fulfill my duties as border guard, far enough to escape the stench of change that clung to Grimstone’s streets. The isolation suited me. Let them have their progress. I’d keep to the old ways, guard the boundaries that mattered.

The vial burned in my pocket. A reminder that some lines had already been crossed.

Shadows stretched long across the mountainside as the sun dipped behind jagged peaks. The wind shifted,whispering promises of the first snow. Good. The cold kept visitors away and left me to my solitude.

I rolled my shoulders, working out the familiar tension. My head still throbbed, each beat a reminder of the unopened vial in my pocket. I needed to get back to my cabin, take the damn potion. Just enough time for it to work its magic before the steep climb to my father’s door. Just enough to make the visit bearable.

I froze. Something crisp cut through the mountain air. Mint. Then something darker. Richer. Like honey dripping down my spine. It curled through my senses, making my mouth water and tusks ache.

The sound of branches snapping echoed from the clearing ahead. Trespasser. In my territory? Near our sacred grounds?

I moved silently through the trees, following that maddening scent. A woman crouched just beyond the border stones, her hands busy with… were those shadow caps? The mushrooms were rare, growing only under the right conditions.

And used in the clan’s most sacred rites.

The thief muttered to herself as she arranged the caps in a precise circle. Around a stone... badger? The absurdity of it barely registered past the fury building in my chest. Magic crackled in the air, raising the hair on my arms.

Another fucking witch.

“This is clan territory.” I kept my voice level despite the way my blood hummed. “Leave. Now.”

She didn’t even look up. “Busy at the moment. Come back later.”

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